Welcome Aboard the Safe Harbor

“What’s with the personal attack?” he shouted at the stranger. “I ain’t done nothing to you!”

Maggie was the least ruffled of the group. “You can do fire magic?” she practically squealed and bounced over to Jonathan. “I haven’t seen that in ages.” She clapped her hands. “Oh, that was wonderful. Can you do more?” She snuggled into the gentleman’s space, giving him her biggest, most persuasive smile. 

“I’m Maggie Roberts, by the way.” She then nearly lost her balance as she was pulled away.

“Get away from him,” Jackson had finally stopped hiding and pounded his way over to the gypsy. He roughed pushed Maggie aside and turned Jonathan by the shoulders. He marched the man to the door and pushed him out. “I will not have people attack me in my own room!” He said dramatically, giving Jameson a curt nod before he went into the hallway as well. He saw the stranger’s coat tails turn the corner and sprinted after him.

“Dammit, man!”

Jackson jumped into the corridor and grinned as Jonathan stopped. He caught up with him and slapped his hands on his face. “You are incredible!” he enthused. His toothy grin took up most of his face and he couldn’t stop smiling at the magician.

His attentions were quickly distracted by someone else as Maggie suddenly filled the space next to him. He glanced down at the woman’s face, her ginger hair bouncing in excitement. “You’ve seen fire magic before?” he asked in surprise. Her enthusiasm gave his ego a boost. He was about to explain all the different methods he’d learned for fire magic when she was suddenly wrenched away. 

He’d been ignoring Jackson Jefferies completely, but it was now impossible as the man was forcibly shoving him out the door. “I was not attacking you, I was simply-” he tried to protest, but no one was listening apparently. Ah well, he thought. He’d been about to leave only a few minutes earlier. Perhaps it was for the best after all. Without another word, he turned and quickly walked away. Before long he was besieged again though. He turned with an exasperated sigh, whipping his coat around angrily and placing a hand on his hip. 

“Are there further abuses you would care to shout at me, Captain Jefferies?” he sassed. To his surprise, there apparently weren’t. His confused face was frozen in horror as the American grabbed it up. At first, he thought he wasn’t hearing right, but then he shook his head, even more confused. “Why in the world couldn’t you let your colleague know what you really thought? It’s not as if it’s a competition, man! I simply wanted someone to share my...skills with.”

He was still wary of Jackson’s new found optimism and was hesitant to stay or discuss anything with the man. He simply cleared his throat and quietly muttered, “It’s very old magic, actually.”

Maggie was listening in the hall. She’d meant to leave upon hearing the ever-annoying American’s voice, preferring to be alone with her beloved. But the third voice inside the room snagged her curiosity, and now her ear was pressed to the door as she listened to the disagreement. 

Her plan of being undetected went awry when the door opened beneath her. She gasped and grabbed for the handle to steady herself, yanking the door shut. Maggie heard a puzzled exclamation from the other side. She kept her hand firmly on the door to prevent it from opening again, not ready to face an irritated Jameson or Jackson. Her hand clutched the handle as it repeatedly jiggled and the voice inside the room grew more agitated. If she could creep away…she loosened her grip just as the door was forcefully tugged and she stumbled into a tall stranger.

“Ooof!” she yelped as she collided with his waistcoat. She looked up into his surprised eyes and blushed. Maggie realized the gentleman was trying to help her straighten up and quickly righted herself. “Thank you, sir.” She added an awkward curtsy and wondered where those manners suddenly came from. 

Jackson’s loud snort of laughter interrupted her gaze into the man’s eyes. She glared at the American. Their words whipped back and forth.

“Ain’t never curtsied to me.”

“You aren’t a gentleman.”

“He ain’t either.”

“Stop saying ‘ain’t.’ You sound like an idiot.”

“He’s the idiot.”

“I doubt that.”

“He thinks he can do magic.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows at the stranger. “Magic?”

“Says he’s one of the last magicians.”

“Oooo, really?” Now this gentleman was genuinely interesting. “What sort of magic?”

“Oh come on, don’t give in to his craziness.”

“Perhaps he could tell me himself.” She scoffed at Jackson and noticed the stranger now regarding her with great interest. 

The American snorted again. “All lies.”

“Jackson Jeffries, I’m sure you just don’t want me to get to know this gentleman because he has a larger…” she smirked at Jameson’s cough, “…intellect than you.”

To his great surprise, it was a woman. He didn’t stop to think we she was holding the door shut, but instead began to help her right herself. “Pardon me, miss. I had no idea. Here, let me-” He actually wasn’t sure what to do. Everywhere he placed his hands seemed to be too familiar and, in the end, they just sort of hovered around her and followed her movements. Finally, he lightly took her arm, feeling that keeping her from falling would at least be beneficial. 

He watched the animosity filled exchange between the woman and Jackson Jefferies. If he’d had time, he would have introduced himself, but soon enough, his thoughts of polite society melted away. Apparently, this woman had a talent for getting to the heart of what Jackson really thought. Jonathan shot a glance at Jameson, but the large Englishman seemed too busy trying to look like he was ignoring the exchange. He felt heat rising to his face. He’d thought that, at least one of the men had believe him, but apparently he’d been wrong. Slowly, he became aware that woman sounded very much like she was defending him. As the exchange went on, he turned and regarded her more carefully. She did not look like most ladies he had known and seemed to have a style and fervor all her own. For a moment, he thought of Arabella and a sad smile crept onto his face.

Jonathan noticed the exchange take a surprising turn, but he had no idea what it was about. Some reference to something he was sure. Either that or Jackson Jefferies was indeed very insulted to think someone’s intellect may be greater than his. Either way, he was tired of the insults and innuendos. He noticed a moderate fire burning in the fireplace and directed a few words and a slight flick of the wrist toward it. A large fireball erupted, growing into a caricature of his own face as it rushed towards Jackson, nearly lighting up the man’s spat out drink. 

Jameson Wyatt literally toppled out of his chair, landing hard on the floor. He scarcely noticed though, never taking his eyes from the seemingly living fireball. He watched as it sped toward Jackson and then suddenly disappeared in a cloud of smoke. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded as he picked himself up and dusted off. “What are you playing at?”

“I am playing at nothing, sir!” Jonathan shouted as he whipped around to face the other man. “And the meaning is to show you that my skills are real. Please, do try to rationalize to me that I managed that with a pinch of Chinese powder,” he sassed and huffed like a defiant child.

Jackson wasn’t fond of Jonathan’s attitude. Nor his colleague’s. He’d expected to be praised for his work, as usual. At least that’s what Gaston and Alejandro usually did. “Why do you always gotta talk about yourself like that?” he muttered as Jameson listed his attributes. 

His interest perked up when the chemist asked about other magicians. Since he still wasn’t sure of this stanger’s magic being genuine, he figured trying to get a rise out of Jonathan might reveal more tricks.  “Are you blind?” he sputtered. “They’re all over, in the streets, theatres, gambling halls… how else do you think I ran into that damned Fabien?”

He poured himself a drink and plopped into a chair. “I’m gonna stick with my thoughts that all magicians are swindlers with too much time on their hands. We don’t need more of them. Ain’t that right, Mister Strange?”

Jameson and Jonathan began to sputter in time. Both found Jackson’s lax attitude on the matter rather insulting. Both began to protest how street magician’s were not real; Jonathan prickling with indignation and Jameson sighing in exasperation as he recognized his colleague’s attempt to rile their new companion. What seemed to disturb both of them the most though, was the fact that they were agreeing with each other and, suddenly, on the same side.

This had the effect of producing total silence from both men. They glanced at one another awkwardly and then, after a moment, Jonathan squinted at Jackson. “You say you’ve met other “magicians”? I very much doubt that. They were a dying breed in...well, many years ago. English magic resurfaced for a time, but now, no one even believes its real anymore. These magicians you’ve met are merely conjurers and entertainers. I assure you that I agree whole-heartedly, we certainly don’t need anymore of those.”

Still, Jackson’s words had soured his mood. They’d been getting along well enough and it had been nice to have someone to show his skills to. Perhaps it had been something he’d said. Now, he only seemed to have the favor of the grumpy one and he’d gone back to his quiet brooding. Maybe it had been a mistake to take up with the two scientists. “Well, gentlemen,” he said politely, “I did not mean to become a cause for contention between you. Perhaps our two fields are too far apart to reconcile...”

“That Tesla fellow?” Jackson’s look of surprise at Jonathan changed quickly to a glare at his colleague. “Did you put him up to this?” he spat.

The American swung back to his gentleman visitor. “I like to consider myself a true innovator, like Edison. My work may appear similar to Tesla’s,” he strangled the name through gritted teeth, “but I assure you it is quite different. Better, in fact.”

“The teapot has a self-heating coil, and a timer that goes off when the water has boiled. It’s useful. I even advanced my work to a coffee machine - have you tried espresso?“ He tapped another machine nearby and smirked, then started it up.

“You see, my young Spanish friend insisted that we get coffee on our ship, and he helped me create…” he sailed off into an explanation of the machine and his collaboration with Alejandro. Within a few minutes, he snatched Jonathan’s glass of brandy and dumped the espresso in. “Alejandro and I created some tasty combinations,” he nodded at the cup before giving it back to Jonathan.

“It’s quite good. Might keep you up for hours though,” he added with a laugh.

Jonathan looked back and forth between Jackson and Jameson. Curiosity caused an eyebrow to raise and he wondered what the bone of contention was. Of course, it took but a moment to find out. He listened quietly as Jackson described his teapot, his coffee machine, his young Spanish friend; basically a lot of information about how wonderful he was. He nodded here and there, but was a bit baffled at the thought of a coffee machine.

“I have been to Italy, sir,” he commented, “and tried many different coffee drinks. Though, perhaps, the process is different in Spain. Do you mean you have a pot for making coffee as well?” Then he saw this espresso machine. His eyes widened, both impressed and horrified. “Surely all of this isn’t necessary for a simple cup of coffee.” The machine sputtered and coughed and then poured out a tiny, very dark cup of coffee. He took it from his host and cautiously looked it over. Then he, even more cautiously, took a sip. 

It was Jonathan’s turn to sputter and cough. He tried to speak, but it took a moment. “Gracious that’s bitter. Do you just drink it...straight?” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jameson watching them from behind a newspaper. “And what about you, Mister Wyatt? Do you have any amazing inventions to show me? Or suspicious fluids you’d like me to drink?”

The miraculous timing of the weather made Jackson wonder if Jonathan had a hand in such matters. But he was most certainly NOT going to admit that out loud. Change in the temperature or wind, the behavior of animals, the color of clouds - there were myriad ways that one could tell about oncoming weather. Jackson let himself laugh at Jonathan’s request to raise a ship and muttered as he turned to head to their residence. “Sir, I don’t think you’re strong enough to move a dinghy.”

It had taken some negotiating, but Jackson had finally won over Maggie and was sharing an apartment with his colleague. Jameson still often visited his lover in her own quarters, leaving the place empty for Jackson to entertain guests of his own. But when the muse of inspiration struck, it was ideal for the two men to be able to work together undisturbed. 

Jackson had taken most of his smaller creations from the Safe Harbor and set them up on one side of the sitting room, leaving the opposite wall to Jameson’s organizational preferences. One afternoon, as a result of their frequent squabbles over space, the very drunk American had painted a line down the center of the room to divide it in half. The calmness with which his companion handled the situation had surprised Jackson, but then again, Jameson often worked outside of his predictions. 

While Jackson had nursed his hangover that evening, Jameson read up on storage techniques and the next day, two impressively large cabinets were installed and filled with all the experimental items they could possibly need. It was in one of these cabinets that Jackson was currently rummaging as Jonathan looked around the room.

“No mirrors here,” he teased and waved bottles in the air. “But we’ve got plenty of liquor. What’s your poison?”

Once he’d situated the stranger and his friend with a drink, Jackson shucked off his coat and light a cigarette, glancing with pride to the side of the room with his creations. 

“So, which catches your eye? I expect they’re like nothing you’ve ever seen before.”

Jameson Wyatt walked quietly, a step behind Jackson and his new pet project. It wasn’t an easy feat, having longer legs and a powerful stride, but he was content to stroll with his own thoughts. He didn’t like the idea of having a stranger in their work space, and liked it even less because of who (or perhaps what was a better word) the man was. His mind was still reeling at the things he’d seen. While the rain could be explained away as incredibly serendipitous timing, the mirror trick still baffled him. And yet, a part of his mind was starting to come around. If this man could do real magic, it opened up a whole new realm of scientific possibilities.

The moment Jonathan walked in the room, he couldn’t help but remember how much life had changed since his younger years, or at least, his original younger years. There were no servants, no vestibules, no...cleanliness, well, at least on one side of the room. Though he knew this was partially his own problem to deal with. He was still getting used to men without hose. He smiled his lop-sided grin at the paint on the floor and could easily imagine the story behind it. Plus, it was plain to see that each side of the room was occupied by two very different people. He wasn’t sure what he expected from Jackson’s cabinet, but bottles of alcohol hadn’t crossed his mind.

He spared a glance at Jameson and said, “Are you having a drink as well, sir?”

Jameson sighed. “Why not?” Then he took a glass of scotch from Jackson and downed it in one gulp before slumping into a chair on his side of the room.

Jonathan stared at him in surprise for a moment and then turned back to Jackson to answer his question. “Well, brandy I suppose, if you have any. If not, the scotch will do.”

Jonathan, ever the conscientious Englishman, let his eye wander to the tea pot. “Is it electrical, sir?” he asked, trying to sound like he was up on all of the latest inventions. “Yet, I see no wires. Does it produce its own power somehow? Or perhaps you’ve done something like that Tesla fellow and managed to produce electricity without the wires?”

At the mention of Nikola Tesla’s name, Jameson’s head popped up and he gave a chuckle.

The American finally released Jonathan. He glanced at Jameson, knowing that if he admitted to believing in magic, he’d never hear the end of it from his colleague. “I’m still not convinced,”  he said sharply. “There are a lot of illusion tricks that one can do with a mirror.” 

“It did surprise me but…” he smiled at Jonathan, “that’s not the best you can do, right?” He patted his hand on the stranger’s shoulder and nodded at the tallest man in their group.

“My colleague Jameson and I work to create things that are useful. We make amazing machines that improve peoples lives.” Jackson talked with his hands, painting the impressive world of mechanical wonders before Jonathan’s eyes. “Why, Mister Wyatt even made a ship fly.” He grinned.

Still, he listened with interest as the engineer went on. He tried to disguise his enthusiasm, but he’d never been very good at it and this was just the sort of thing that had amazed him about this age. Now and then, he would punctuate Jackson’s speech with a “really?” here and a “you don’t say?” there. He was just about to comment further when the words were sucked from his mouth.