Uncle Thomas and The Clock Shop

My name is Stewart. Stewart Smalls. I didn't always own a clock shop, and I never imagined I'd end up living in New York. I was a British lad, born and raised on the streets. My parents were sickly and poor, and they passed away when I was a mere six years old. My older brother Jack was twelve at the time, and he became my caretaker. He showed me how to survive on the streets, until he ended up on the peg. Once he was jailed, I never saw him again. I was suddenly an orphan. Life taught me to fend for myself. I had nobody else, and the streets were hard.

My childhood was spent looking for skof, water, and a decent kip for the night. I was small, quick and nimble, so petty theft became my expertise. The blue jackets and liberty men were easy targets. Off duty, they just wanted to drink pints, get fuddled and look for clergymen's daughters to spend the night with. They would stumble about, money in hand... sometimes I wouldn't even need to pick pockets. Their money would fall on the sidewalk, and there I was, like a rat gathering crumbs. Most days, it was not that easy. Often, I went to the peg, but they tended to run out of soup rather quickly, or they refused me.

On my tenth birthday, I decided to have a go at bigger robberies. A local clock store caught my eye. If I could swipe one of those small, brass clocks, perhaps even a wrist-watch, I could sell it in the alley since I had many connections and accomplices there. Then I could finally treat myself to some barnbrack and char. I spent the next hour observing the shop from the outside, forming a plan in my brain. Once many customers were inside the shop, I would enter. With all the hustle and bustle, surely I would go unnoticed.

My plan seemed to work. I swiped a small display clock from the wall without anyone paying attention. I made another round inconspicuously, and slowly made my way towards the door. By now, my heart was pounding, and I was quite nervous. That's when a deep voice boomed out from behind the counter, "Young lad, I suggest you do not make the attempt ! I had my eye on you from the moment you entered that door. I know the difference between a toe rag and a patron." Crikey ! I froze. Should I hook it ? I turned slowly to face him.

He was a large man, with a huge mustache and top hat. Rather intimidating to say the least. He did not look up, but remained looking down at the counter while fidgeting with some clockwork gadgets. "You're balmy on the crumpet ! I did nothing !" I snapped back. That's when his eyes looked up. Piercing blue eyes, like sharp daggers. "That small space on the wall was not empty before. Now please take the clock out of your pocket, and bring it forth." Indeed, he caught me red-handed. I was in a nasty jar. It was best to cooperate.

As I approached him slowly and emptied my pocket, I imagined the ways I could resist his apprehension. Perhaps a bite to his forearm ? A pinch with my long nails ? He made no such attempt. He took the clock, and smiled. "Good choice, lad. Now tell me your name. I'll go first. I am Thomas Burton, the owner of this shop. I can repair any clock, any device, from any part of the world." After a long gap of silence, I finally gained the courage to face him and reply "My name is Stewart... sir. Stewart Smalls. I... I'm sorry for what I did. I only nick to eat."

"Nonsense ! Tomfoolery ! Life is full of options, boy. You need only inquire the heavens. I need an apprentice, and you seem to need an opportunity. Would you be interested ?" Mr. Burton fixed his gaze on me, but I was mumchance. My mind was racing. What should I do ? Perhaps this graft was cushy. He seemed rather friendly, and I was tired of street life and its uncertainties. I finally opened my mouth. "So... what's the offer, and when do I start ?" Thomas replied, "Two meals a day, and there's a mattress back there. Once you learn the basics, I'll pay you quid."

I thought to myself, I could go on the cot for awhile. Learning the basics, how hard could it be ? I nodded my head and said "Okay", as I started to walk towards the exit. Thomas chuckled, "Where are you going, then ? You start today. Grad a mop from the closet, and clean this floor please. It won't clean itself.. go on !" I mopped the floor, but my thoughts were non-stop. How did I end up here ? Why did Mr. Burton pick me ? Would he try and murder me during the night ? Was he a psychopath ? A serial-killer ? Should I stay or should I go ?

The first night, it was difficult for me to sleep. The mattress was comfy, and the storefront was quiet, but I felt strange. I was like the stray cat who had now been taken into a home. Happy to be here, but cautious. As morning sunlight lit up the store, a cheerful Thomas entered the rear door. "Good morning, Stu. As my new apprentice and store representative, I've purchased some new clothes for you to look presentable. Here you go." Still surprised, I put on the new shirt, vest, trousers and newsboy cap. "Fittums!" He exclaimed joyfully. Indeed, they were perfect.

From that time on, I had a set routine. Clean the storefront, the windows and dust the clocks on the walls. When customers were sparse, Thomas would use that time to explain everything about clocks and watches to me. I would also spend hours observing him fix the various gears and gadgets. Soon, I could recognize all makes and models of clocks and watches. The Louis Cartier was my favorite piece, and it was the first watch made for the wrist. Eventually, I stopped referring to Thomas as Mr. Burton, opting instead to call him Uncle Thomas. He had no objection.

I became his right hand man. When Uncle Thomas was ill, I handled all the shop business, including deliveries. I was getting paid well, and even rented a small flat for myself. I no longer slept in the store, because I was older now and needed my privacy. On my eighteenth birthday, Uncle Thomas presented me a small, boxed gift. "Open it, Stu !" At first, it looked like some type of exotic pocket watch. I assumed it was brass. It had many strange symbols on it, and was clam-shell shaped. I tried to pry it open.

"Don't open it ! You will waste the magic power of the device." Uncle Thomas began to explain that my birthday gift was more special than I could ever imagine. It was made from real gold, and it was not a clock nor a watch. "What is it, then ?" I asked with raised eyebrows. Uncle Thomas replied in a rather serious tone, "It's a teleportation device, capable of altering time-space very briefly." I wanted to laugh, and he knew it. "Stu, there will come a time in your life when you need to open this device. Promise me, you will only open it during an emergency. Promise !"

"Right... I promise, Uncle Thomas." He continued his lecture. "I bought this device when I was about your age while traveling through Egypt. It was discovered in one of the pyramids of Giza. It's an ancient artifact, and I never intended to give it to anyone. I never had to use its power, but I'd heard stories from the locals about it. I paid a huge sum of money for it." For many awkward minutes, I didn't know how to respond. Sheepishly, I thanked him and gave him a hug. As I was about to get back to work, he handed me a stack of bills. "Cut it, lad. Enjoy your birthday."

With that, I was officially on vacation. I felt merry as a grig in a garden ! Now I just had to decide where to go. I flipped through a newspaper and saw an ad for a large ship. It was leaving Southampton tomorrow with a final destination of New York, America. It promised to be a luxurious journey aboard the largest ship ever made - the Titanic. That's it ! I would visit New York. The music, the shows, the ladies... splendid ! I bid Uncle farewell, packed my suitcase, caught a cab and purchased my ticket. I breathed in deeply. I smiled big. Life was good now.

The next day, I was astounded when I arrived at the port. I had never seen such a huge, impressive vessel. It had four, massive, towers rising from it, as if it were a palace on the ocean. Once again, I was mumchance. My tickets were for the lower tier, because this ship was so massive that it contained three, separate levels. As I boarded the ship and descended to the lower level, I quickly realized how many foreigners surrounded me, with all manner of different languages and exotic clothing. I felt like the only Englishman within their midst. It added to my excitement.

As the horns blared, it felt as if the heavens shook. The boat left the dock, and soon the coast of England faded out of sight. It felt surreal to be on the open ocean, with its lofty waves and blasts of cold air. I was pleased to learn that there would be two stops before America - in France and Ireland. Perhaps I would get to do some sight-seeing, or purchase a couple of exotic watches. Every day was an adventure, meeting new people and seeing whales above water. Such a wondrous world ! I only wished Uncle Thomas could have joined me. I had his gift with me as a keepsake.

Although dock time was limited, I was able to get a taste of both France and Ireland's ports. I did buy a few watches, and I couldn't wait to show them to Uncle Thomas upon returning. Apparently, we were scheduled to arrive in New York tomorrow, and I had a rather annoying bout of insomnia in my excitement. As I laid in my tiny cabin bed that night, wide awake, there was a horrid sound of warping metal, and the massive ship jolted. Indeed, it jolted so hard that I nearly fell out of bed ! Soon came panicked yelling and sounds of running footsteps.

In the hallway, people were starting to crowd. Again, I heard all types of languages. Somehow, I could understand the emotions despite anything else... fear, panic and confusion. Then I heard shouts in English, "Everyone to the deck ! The ship has an emergency !!" Soon, the stairwells became a clamor for survival. A sweaty stampede of steamy bodies ascending, like a herd of bulls. I pressed against the rails and moved my slender body like a snake, gliding between the mass of bodies. As I reached the crowded, chaotic deck, the ship lurched more, to everyone's horror.

On the dock, the English language was standard, as instructions were shouted. "Women and children to the lifeboats first !! Women and children only !!" The younger me would've scoffed at such a proposition. I was now a responsible adult, and I found myself assisting however I could, directing women and children to limited lifeboats, which were filling up to maximum capacity. As the entire ship started submerging lower and lower, many people jumped into the frigid waters below. Most were men. Many of them were from the lower tier, like me.

After midnight, the remainder of the ship's deck that was left sticking above water was now nearly at a forty-five degree angle. The life boats were all dispatched. I clung to the ship's railing, no longer able to assist anyone. I remained with a small group of men. I thought of the tragedy and irony of this situation. Bloody hell ! What a nasty jar ! Then I remembered my gift. I was in an emergency, and I had nothing to lose, but my life. Using my legs to secure myself onto the rail, I reached into my pocket and began to pry the device open. My hands were too cold. My fingers felt like ice pegs, too stiff to bend. Bullocks !

By the time my bloodied fingers managed to pry the device open, the only thing I could recall was a flash of light, and poof ! As if suddenly awakening from some perpetual nightmare, I found myself on the shore of a rocky beach, among the various lifeboats and sobbing, tired masses. It was the crack of dawn now, but I could've sworn that it was merely midnight on the deck. Puzzled, but grateful to be alive, I placed the device in my pocket and sat down. All manner of vehicles began to arrive, and lines of people started to form. I discovered that we were in Canada, where the ship sank.

My stay in Canada was not too long, and I had no desire nor money to return back to England. After a couple days, I sent a telegram to Uncle Thomas explaining what had happened. I'm sure he would be overjoyed to learn that I was alive. I was still unaware that upon hearing the news of the Titanic, Uncle Thomas died of a massive heart attack. In New York, I took a loan from a bank and opened up my own clock shop. In his honor, I named it Uncle Thomas' Clocks, Watches and Repairs. It didn't take long for my business to become very successful. To this day, I still keep my cherished device in a display case in the store, but it's not for sale.