The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (23 page)

At that moment I felt a tap on my shoulder. Holmes moved casually out on to the deck. His revolver was pointed directly at the men.

‘Stay where you are, Hugo Brandon.’ His voice cut through the
wind, and the five men searched quickly through the darkness to trace its source. Within moments, all eyes were fixed on Holmes. ‘You will not be going anywhere tonight,’ Holmes said.

Brandon stepped forwards, peering into the darkness. ‘Commodore, is that you? Why yes, I believe it is.’

A man in the shadows reached slowly into his coat. Charlie, Kurt, Willy? I could not tell.

My revolver in hand, I quickly took aim. I did not have time to fire. There was an explosion and flash from Holmes’s gun. The man twisted and fell to the deck, holding his right shoulder.

Unfortunately, the revolver’s recoil caused Holmes to lose his footing momentarily on the icy deck. Brandon and his men used the opportunity to jump for cover behind a lifeboat. It was directly in front of the boat that had been positioned over the water.

Holmes, regaining his balance, ran back to Miss Norton and me, pushing us to the deck as he skidded to a stop.

‘That should bring the captain and his men,’ Holmes shouted. ‘Would you prefer to put down your weapons now, or wait for them? It makes no difference to me.’

‘We will wait for a while, if you do not mind,’ Brandon replied. ‘If I were you, I would forget about us and conduct a search of this ship. As Doctor Watson may have told you, we planted two bombs. And you do not have very much time.’

‘Oh, the one in the post room. It is already defused, but thank you.’

A gun fired, chipping a splinter of wood from our lifeboat. A flurry of shots followed. But they were not aimed at us. The attention of Brandon and his gang was now drawn to the captain and his men, who emerged from both forward and aft positions. As the ship’s crew began to shoot, our adversaries were caught in a crossfire. Clearly, they could not hold their position behind the lifeboat.

Suddenly, there was a chugging, mechanical sound. The lifeboat over the water was being lowered. Swede and the wounded man jumped over the rail, but both were hit by gunfire and fell limply over the side. Moments later, the three remaining men came out of hiding, their guns blazing. Two of the men held their ground until they fell to the deck. But Brandon, after firing two shots, jumped over the rail. By this time, the lifeboat must have been half-way to the water. The gambler was taking the biggest gamble of his life.

The captain and his men came out from their positions of cover and rushed across the deck.

‘Raise that lifeboat!’ the captain shouted.

Boxhall ran to the motor and reversed its direction.

We all gathered by the rail as the lifeboat rose from the darkness. It was empty.

Ten minutes later, Holmes, the captain and I approached Miss Norton and Futrelle, who were standing on the starboard deck.

‘Do you see anything?’ I asked.

‘We think we see a ship’s lights about a mile out, but we are not sure,’ said Miss Norton.

Then the five of us went to stand by the side of the rail, waiting quietly, looking out across the water. It was not long before we saw a blinker signal sending a short message.

The captain chuckled. ‘They are signalling “WWU” — Workers of the World, Unite.’

‘Captain, may I use that signal lamp over there?’ Holmes asked.

The captain nodded and, smiling curiously, switched on the device.

‘Holmes, I didn’t realize that you knew Morse code,’ I said.

‘I have learnt a few new skills over the years, Watson.’

Holmes took the device in his hand and switched the light on and off. There was no reply from the mysterious ship.

The captain was laughing heartily but the rest of us remained in the dark.

‘Holmes, whatever did you say?’

‘What any good Englishman would say, of course. “Rule, Britannia.”’

T
HE
M
ORNING OF
S
UNDAY
14 A
PRIL
1912

S
herlock Holmes shook his head as he closed the cover of his watch.

‘Time, Watson. Time is running short.’

Our deadline for recovering the plans was fast approaching. The
Titanic
would be docking in three days. Over the past twenty-four hours we had saved the ship from disaster and eliminated one red herring, Brandon, from our list of suspects. Still, it seemed we were no closer to succeeding in our investigation.

Saturday night’s
mêlée
on the boat deck had not gone completely unnoticed. The bitter cold had discouraged most passengers from going outside. Those who tried to brave the weather were prevented by the captain’s men, who gave the explanation that emergency repairs were being made to some of the ship’s equipment. Still, a few passengers had asked about gunshots that appeared to be coming from somewhere outside. This was explained away as electrical explosions, confirming that the deck was no place to be while repairs were under way.

Saturday night’s freak storm had left as suddenly as it had appeared. Fair weather had returned.

The captain had invited Holmes, Miss Norton, Futrelle and me to breakfast in his sitting room. Except for Holmes, all of us had begun filling our plates with eggs and bacon, and also fruit, which had been laid out on a small table. I had not eaten dinner the previous evening, and the smell of hot food suddenly brought my appetite back.

Our meal was interrupted by a knock at the door. ‘Come in!’ called the captain. A young officer entered. He was a man of disciplined demeanour and a hint of determination in his eyes. The captain put his breakfast aside, rose and motioned for the young man to step forward.

‘Gentlemen, Miss Norton, I don’t believe I have introduced you to Mr Charles Lightoller, my second officer,’ said the captain. ‘He is one of my most trusted and valued men. No doubt you have seen him attending to his duties over the past few days.’

I expected a round of introductions. Instead, the captain folded his arms and got right to the point. ‘I have taken the liberty of divulging your mission and Mr Holmes’s identity to Mr Lightoller. He will be available to assist you when I am otherwise occupied.’

Holmes responded calmly to this surprise announcement.

‘We must surely be taking up too much of your valuable time, Captain. Mr Lightoller, we are very pleased to have your assistance in solving our little puzzle.’

‘I must say, Mr Holmes, I was quite amazed when the captain told me who you really are. I am at your service.’

The captain introduced the rest of us and invited Lightoller to join us for breakfast. He then returned to his easy chair and picked up his plate of bacon and eggs, which he had barely had a chance to touch.

‘I fear that I have another puzzle for you to work on, Mr Holmes,’ said the captain, beginning his breakfast at last.

There was a knock at the door, which Holmes answered. It was Bride.

‘A message for the captain, sir.’ Bride tipped his hat to the rest of us and left.

The captain again set his plate aside, rose and unfolded the wireless form. ‘Well, well, more good news,’ he said, a tone of sarcasm in his voice. Listen to this: “Captain
Titanic
— Westbound steamers report bergs, growlers and field ice in forty-two degrees north, from forty-nine degrees to fifty-one degrees west, 12 April. Compliments, Barr.’

‘Who is Barr?’ asked Miss Norton.

‘He is the captain of the
Caronia
.’ The captain folded the message and appeared lost in thought.

Encouraging some eggs on to my fork, I inquired, ‘Are we going to be passing through that area?’

‘We are heading in that general direction. But nothing to worry about. I will inform the officers and we will keep watch for any signs of ice.’ The captain put the message in his coat pocket.

‘Captain, you were saying something about a puzzle,’ said Holmes.

‘Oh, yes. It seems that our stoker friend, Mr Strickley, has disappeared.’

‘What!’ I said. ‘I thought he was confined to quarters.’

‘He was, but apparently he did not take my orders too seriously. When we find him, he will go straight to the brig. But so far, no luck.’

‘Have you begun a search?’ asked Holmes.

‘Every available man. With all the intrigue lately aboard this ship, my men are becoming quite experienced at conducting searches.’

The captain looked each of us in the eye, then returned to his easy chair and his breakfast.

‘Do you have evidence that he escaped on his own?’ Holmes inquired.

The captain dropped his knife and fork on his plate, showing signs of a man whose patience was wearing thin.

‘You suspect foul play, Mr Holmes? At last, I thought, I could get back to the serious business of running a pleasure cruise... I swear, sir, if I did
not know better, I would say this ship was under the curse of Jonah.’

Miss Norton poured the captain another cup of tea. ‘Now, Captain, your breakfast is getting cold.’

Taking a deep breath, the captain forced a smile and picked up his knife and fork, slowly lifting a slice of melon to his mouth.

‘Rest assured, Miss Norton. This captain is always in control. But Mr Holmes, why the concern?’

‘I believe Mr Holmes might be referring to Bishop,’ said Futrelle, who had already devoured his breakfast. ‘We still do not know who killed him. If, in fact, someone shot Bishop to keep him silent...’

‘Exactly, Futrelle,’ said Holmes. ‘Captain, I would like to inspect Strickley’s quarters immediately. I may be able to determine whether we have another murder on our hands, or if Mr Strickley is simply absent without leave.’

‘Very well. Mr Lightoller, would you assist Mr Holmes?’

‘Yes, sir, a pleasure... Mr Holmes, do you suspect that Strickley’s disappearance could be related to the theft of the documents?’

‘It is possible. We also have few clues as to their whereabouts. Strickley’s disappearance may serve to enlighten us.’

‘It is Sunday, and I am expected in the dining room at 10.30 to conduct Divine Service. Would any of the rest of you care to join me? A prayer would be helpful to all of us,’ said the captain.

‘My wife and I were already planning to attend,’ said Futrelle. The writer looked at his watch. ‘Doctor Watson, Miss Norton, shall we meet there in an hour?’

‘I must accompany Holmes. Perhaps Miss Norton...’ I responded.

With a firmness of tone that reminded me of my late wife, Miss Norton said, ‘You have had quite enough adventures yesterday. You will take a turn on the deck with me, then we will go to the service.’

Holmes chuckled and walked over to the table of food.

‘I must agree, my dear Watson. You are officially off duty until after church.’

Miss Norton grabbed my arm and began to lead me to the door.

‘She Who Must be Obeyed,’ I said, resignedly, waving goodbye to the others.

T
HE
L
ATE
M
ORNING OF
S
UNDAY
14 A
PRIL
1912

T
he morning was bright and clear, and a number of passengers were enjoying the opportunity to take a pleasant stroll on deck.

As Miss Norton and I ambled along the boat deck, I took particular pleasure in watching the children play.

‘Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three...’ said one young girl as she faced the deckhouse, her hands covering her eyes. Her companions were scurrying to find a place to hide. One ambitious young man was nervously inspecting a lifeboat, trying to find a way inside.

As we continued, I spotted a familiar face. The boy was sitting next to a deckchair, playing with some toys.

‘Well, well,’ I said. ‘If it isn’t our young detective, Tommy Roberts. And how are you this fine day?’

‘Doctor Watson! Would you like to play? I am pretending that...’ Tommy stopped and stared at my companion.

‘Oh, Tommy. I would like to introduce you to my friend, Miss Norton.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Tommy. What is that you are playing with?’