The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (21 page)

‘’Ere now, who is that lurkin’ about in the dark? Come out in the light now, yer ’ear?’

Futrelle took no chances. He lunged at the stooped figure as he stepped into the room. Both fell to the floor with a thud. I turned the light back on and studied the features of our visitor, who was now lying flat on his back, with Futrelle on top of him. He was an elderly man with a weathered face and a bushy beard and eyebrows. The white hair behind his receding brow was long and uncombed. The man’s grey, battered coat did not appear to be that of one of the crew. But then, he did not appear to be a passenger either, since his clothing contained a layer of soot.

‘Futrelle, I suggest that you help our visitor up to his feet to allow him to explain who he is and what his business is down in the cargo hold.’

Futrelle helped the man to his feet. Our visitor showed little gratitude. Instead, he brushed himself down and scrutinized each of us from head to toe.

‘What I am doin’ ’ere is no concern of yours,’ he said, continuing to brush dust from his sleeves. ‘And what do you mean by jumpin’ on me like that? Seems to me I did you gents a favour by lettin’ you out of ’ere.’

I was beginning to feel a little guilty. While we were justified in being cautious, he had indeed done us and everyone on board a great favour.
‘My apologies but we had to make sure that you were not in league with the man who locked us in here. But what
are
you doing down here yourself?’

The man grinned wryly, stood up straight, and used both hands to pull the beard from his face.

‘My dear Watson, I was simply looking for you.’

‘Holmes!’

‘Indeed it is. And I am most relieved to find that I have not lost my touch with disguises. You must admit, this one had you completely fooled.’

T
HE
L
ATE
E
VENING OF
S
ATURDAY
13 A
PRIL
1912

‘H
olmes, you amaze me! After all these years, you still surprise me. How on earth did you find us down here?’

‘When you failed to return, I went down to third class to find you. I could not locate you in any of the public areas, so I decided that my best course of action was to follow our mysterious gambler friend, Mr Brandon. I found him in the bar.’

‘But why the disguise?’ asked Futrelle, nervously dividing his attention between Holmes and the bomb.

Holmes looked curiously at Futrelle, and then back at me.

‘My dear fellow, what do you have back there?’

‘It is a bomb...but it is not set to go off until one o’clock.’

Holmes folded his arms, nodded and stared at me with calm resignation. He made me feel like a schoolboy causing mischief in the teacher’s absence. After scratching his chin, he walked to the corner of the room and glanced down at the bomb.

‘One o’clock, you say?’

‘Yes, Brandon plans to sink the ship,’ I replied. ‘He thinks, somehow,
that this will further the cause of Marxism. He does not seem to know anything about the stolen documents.’

‘I see... Well, this adds a new dimension to our mystery. I suggest that we go on deck and report to the captain.’

We debated, for a moment, whether one of us should stay behind to stand guard over the bomb. We decided that it was well enough hidden to avoid notice during the short time we were gone.

On the way up to the captain’s cabin, Holmes continued his account of how he had located us in the cargo hold. I was surprised to hear that he had resorted to a talent he had picked up years ago from London’s criminal element.

‘When I entered the bar, Brandon was seated at a table with his companions. He was pointing out something on a large sheet of paper, which was unfolded and spread across the table. I moved in more closely and discovered that it was a set of deck plans for the ship — the same kind that the captain gave to us. From time to time, he would take the pencil he was using as a pointer, and mark something on the map.

‘At the conclusion of this discussion, Brandon folded the map and put it into his coat pocket. He then stood up, picked up his empty beer glass and walked to the bar. I followed him and, in fact, was able to begin a casual conversation with him. He did not recognize me, of course, since I was no longer in the guise of Commodore Winter.’

‘But again, I must ask you, Mr Holmes, why the new disguise?’ asked Futrelle, as we hastily made our way past the post office and up the stairway that bordered the squash-rackets court.

‘I started the day by making enquiries in areas of the ship where passengers and crew might have been intimidated by the sight of an officer in uniform. I decided, for a time, to take on a less assuming civilian identity.’

‘How did you find us?’ I asked. ‘Were you able to deduce something
from your encounter with Brandon?’

‘Not exactly... I picked Brandon’s pocket,’ said Holmes, taking some satisfaction in this feat. ‘And I must say, his set of deck plans was most helpful. The hold where he had imprisoned you, and hidden the bomb, was circled.’

‘Outstanding, Holmes! You may not only have saved our lives but also the ship.’

‘I fear, Watson, that I may also have given the game away. Brandon will undoubtedly become suspicious when he notices that his deck plans are missing. All the more reason to make haste in reaching the captain.’

We found the captain on the bridge, going over nautical charts with the officer of the watch. When he saw us at the doorway, he seemed somewhat irritated. I suspect our appearance may have had something to do with it. After our ordeal in the hold, Futrelle and I were badly in need of a bath and fresh clothing. And then there was Holmes...

‘I will be with you in a moment, gentlemen. Please step into my sitting room.’

‘I think, Captain, that we should talk to you at once,’ said Holmes.

The captain peered at Holmes over his reading glasses and then, without saying a word, he followed us into the adjoining room and closed the door.

‘Still masquerading in that outfit, Mr Holmes? You look like a character out of Dickens.’

‘Captain, listen carefully,’ said Holmes. ‘There is a bomb in the forward cargo hold of the orlop deck. It is set to go off at one o’clock.’

‘A bomb! What the devil are you talking about? Who put it there?’

‘Brandon. He and a small group of anarchists plan to sink this ship. They also plan to steal a lifeboat and row for a waiting ship around midnight.’

‘Anarchists! From what country? What do they want?’ The captain
was clearly rattled by the news, but I sensed no panic or hesitation in his voice.

‘There is no time to discuss that now. Do you have anyone on board who can defuse a bomb? It is attached to a bottle of nitroglycerine.’

The captain thought for a moment. ‘So far as I know, there are no experts on board... I seem to recall Hanson, one of our electricians, saying that he used to set munitions charges when he was in the navy.’

‘Then I suggest, Captain, that we find him and ask him to inspect the device.’

The captain reached for the telephone. ‘Mr Boxhall, please come into my sitting room immediately.’

‘There is no great danger, Mr Holmes. A bomb can damage the ship, but it cannot sink her. Several holds would have to be flooded and...’

‘There are two bombs.’

‘What! Where is the second?’

‘As yet, we do not know.’

‘Good God, man! What has been going on here? Does this have something to do with those stolen documents of yours?’

‘Nothing, sir,’ said Holmes, folding his arms and looking the captain squarely in the eye. ‘In fact, if it hadn’t been for our investigation, you would never have known about the bombs until one o’clock, when they explode.’

‘Both at one o’clock.’

‘Yes,’ said Holmes, reaching into his coat pocket. ‘I have Brandon’s copy of the deck plans here.’ Holmes laid them out flat on the table. ‘This may help us to locate the second device.’ Holmes looked at the plans for a moment, then pointed. ‘Here is the location of the first bomb. If it goes off, it will flood these two holds.’

The captain studied the plans, stroking his beard with one hand, and using the other to point to various positions on the paper. ‘If those
two holds are flooded, all he has to do is flood two more in the forward section of the ship. That will sink us. Or he could hit one or two holds in the rear — I would have to consult Mr Andrews about that.’

The captain again picked up the telephone, this time to find the young ship designer.

‘Holmes,’ I said. ‘Should we not be doing something to take Brandon and his cohorts into custody? They might be persuaded to tell us where the second bomb is hidden.’

‘Agreed, Watson, but first things first. Defusing the first bomb should ensure the safety of the ship. And with Mr Andrews’s help, finding the second bomb should not be too difficult. There are only so many places where an explosion would be effective. As for Mr Brandon and his friends, they are fanatics. There is no guarantee they would co-operate, even at the cost of their own lives.’

The captain put down the telephone just as Boxhall entered the room.

‘Good, Mr Boxhall, I have a little task for you to perform... Gentlemen, Mr Andrews will arrive shortly to assist us.’

The captain explained the situation to Boxhall, who took the news with as much professional demeanour as could be expected. Smith then ordered the officer to find Hanson, confirm that he did indeed know about explosives and take him to where the first bomb was hidden.

‘It is now nine o’clock — so please lose no time. If Hanson is unable to defuse the device, we will have to find someone else who can. Mr Futrelle here will go with you and show you the exact position of the bomb. The rest of us will be attempting to locate the second charge. Understood?’

Boxhall accepted the assignment with calm resolve. ‘Yes, sir. Right away.’

‘Oh, Mr Boxhall,’ said the captain, reaching into a desk drawer. ‘You might need this.’

The captain pulled out a silver-coloured revolver. After checking
the chamber, he handed it to Boxhall.

‘These are dangerous men, Mr Boxhall. They may come back.’

The young officer seemed somewhat less assured than he had a moment earlier, but he put the weapon in his coat pocket without hesitation. Then he and Futrelle left, making their way to the bridge.

‘And speaking of our Mr Brandon...’ said the captain, ‘it is time that he and his friends learned that this ship and this crew are not to be trifled with.’

Once again, the captain picked up the telephone.

T
HE
N
IGHT OF
S
ATURDAY
13 A
PRIL
1912

J
unior Electrician William Hanson was sitting on a crate, wiping his hands nervously on a large red handkerchief when we arrived. He was describing the bomb’s triggering device to Boxhall and Futrelle, who were stooped next to it, examining its contents. The bomb had been moved to directly under the electric light, which provided a clearer view of its inner workings.

Hanson stood as the captain walked through the doorway, followed by Andrews, Miss Norton and myself. Before leaving his cabin, the captain had ordered a search of the ship to find Brandon and his friends.

‘Thank you for coming, Mr Hanson,’ said the captain. ‘Needless to say, this goes far beyond your normal duties.’

‘Anything I can do to help, sir.’

‘Was I correct about your service experience? Are you acquainted with such a device as this?’

‘Well, sir...’ Hanson cleared his throat. ‘I was never what you would call an explosives expert, but I am trained to follow standard procedures for handling ordnance.’

‘But can you defuse this bomb, and another one like it?’ The captain’s voice was calm, but firm. ‘If you are unable to, we will attempt to find someone else. But I do hope that you can, for it is nearly 9.30.’

‘Yes, sir, I think I can...’ Hanson was visibly nervous, but he had courage. ‘No guarantees, mind you. But given the time we have left, I am probably your best chance.’