Eclipsis

Chapter 1

Port Dover, England. The early morning sun hovers just above the horizon, surrounded by a beautiful halo. A cute little boy, about five years of age, stares fascinated across the English Channel and right into the sun. He is dirty and shabbily clad. A well-dressed young man approaches him with proper British accent and refined manners. "You are going to hurt your eyes, boy." The boy turns toward the voice and looks up at William Scarborough. William is a studious and good-looking 23year old with light hair and fashionable sideburns. He wears round eyeglasses with thin frames. His new luggage stands crookedly balanced on the filthy cobblestones beside him.

          "I do what I want." The tiny brat puts his hands on his hips, mimicking the way he has seen his mother do it when she is upset with him. "You are too young to do what you want," William replies, unable to hide the indignant tone in his voice. The boy laughs. "You are too young!" he mocks and sticks out his tongue. William catches himself from getting into an argument with a silly five year old. He is tempted to wag his finger at the boy and tell him that he is, in fact, young for a doctor, which is quite an accomplishment, but not too young to mind a child. And thus, he, Doctor Scarborough, is indeed qualified to lecture any little baby who is stupid enough to stare into the sun. Instead William sighs and puts a hand into his pocket and produces a coin. "Hold it in front of you so that it just covers the sun.
" The boy takes the coin, holds it in front of him and squints. 'Of course you take the coin, you little sewer rat,' William thinks slightly amused and satisfied. Saving one eye at a time, so to speak.

          The boy holds the coin up as he's been told. He covers the sun so that an eclipse-like halo appears around the coin. Then he holds it in a way to cover people's heads. After a few moments he gets bored with the game and turns around to give the coin back, but William has already disappeared. The boy scans the crowd. Between him and the Jolly Sailor Inn fifty feet ahead pulsates the vivacity of Dover's late summer harbor market in 1840. Tradespeople are busy setting up their tents while early customers wait in line. He discovers William just as he enters the Inn. The boy shrugs and pockets the money.

***

The downstairs dining room of the Jolly Sailor Inn is crowded with travelers from all over the world enjoying an early breakfast. Stairs in the back lead up to the second floor boarding rooms. Maidservants dash through the busy eatery, carrying big trays of food and jugs with drinks. The atmosphere is exciting, noisy, and adventurous, and every table is occupied.

          William Scarborough talks to an older man, a stagecoach driver by the name of Jones, who cradles his hat to his chest as if he fears William would knock it out of his hands and claim that tattered thing for himself. 'One never knows with these dandy types,' he silently defends his unfriendly notion, but he nods with something resembling a smile and points toward a loud table, occupied by raunchy sailors who are shamelessly drinking ale in the morning. Their laughter is contagious and throaty, and all their attention is directed at Hank Donovan, a ruggedly handsome American adventurer. Days without shaving made him look older than his 28 years, but that suits him just right.

          Jones starts carrying William's luggage back outside to the coach, while William respectfully approaches the sailors' table. The young doctor looks a bit timid. He clears his throat, but to his dismay nobody seems to notice. His voice cracks into an embarrassingly high pitch like that of a teenager's when he opens his mouth. "Excuse me,' he squeaks at the peak of the intonation, and his cheeks turn instantly crimson. Hank is not one to let this go. He turns to the sailors and asks with his typically cocky grin: "Was that a mouse?" The sailors roar with laughter and poor William looks mortified at the floor with the vague hope to find a mouse to take the blame. He'd love to come back with a grand retort, a hilarious jest, but since that kind of quick wit eludes him despite his vast intelligence he takes a deep breath instead and keeps on talking as if nothing had happened. "I am looking for Mr. Hank Donovan." "You found him," comes Hank's curt reply, as if he doesn't particularly enjoy to be found. William continues eagerly, and politely, if a bit nervous: "Mr. Donovan, pleased to meet you, I'm sure. My name is Doctor Scarborough. Our driver, Mr. Jones, identified you as fellow passenger. He also informed me that we are to share the cab with a third gentleman, a young German student." William turns around as if he expects to distinguish the German student somewhere in the crowd. He can't tell if sees the German, but he does notice a mouse on its way to the kitchen. 'Where were you when I needed you?' he thinks, and then turns back to Hank. "His name is, uh, Franz Kleiss." Hank Donovan doesn't seem to give a damn. He lost interest in William and continues to talk and laugh with the sailors at the table.