William Seil - The Furt The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - The Titanic Tragedy

There was a short silence after Stead finished his story. It was broken by lighthearted comments. Some suggested relatives or business competitors to whom they would like to send the mummy.

Holmes was standing quietly, staring into the fire. I nudged him with my elbow and said, ‘A remarkable story, do you not agree?’

‘Yes, Watson, very enjoyable... Well, my old friend, may I buy you a brandy? We could sit back and discuss old times.’

‘Holmes, you’ve never shown an interest in reminiscing before.’

‘Then, perhaps, it is time that I did. What do you say?’

Holmes was in a rare mood. I could not recall the last time I had seen him so sombre. He was not the type to take ghost stories seriously.

‘I would be delighted. Lead the way, Commodore.’

We sat there for some time and had a most enjoyable conversation — one that brought back many happy memories.

Chapter Six

THE MORNING OF THURSDAY 11 APRIL 1912

Captain Edward John Smith was affectionately referred to as ‘E J’ by regulars on White Star’s trans-Atlantic runs. He was a big man with a grey beard and a firm, autocratic disposition. While strict with his crew, he was considered fair and was well liked. In addition to being an experienced seaman, he was a good host. His hospitality and congenial, soft-spoken manner had drawn a loyal following of regular passengers over the years.

‘The uniform suits you, Mr Holmes,’ said the captain, as the two shook hands. ‘Were you actually in the Navy at one time?’

‘No. Doctor Watson, here, has all the military experience.’

‘Yes, of course, Doctor Watson. I am very pleased to meet you.’

‘I believe you have already met Miss Norton.’

We had called on Smith, by appointment, in the private sitting room adjoining his cabin. It was comfortable, spacious and a good location to discuss our mission without fear of being overheard.

‘Mr Holmes, your brother Mycroft assured me that this mission the three of you have undertaken will in no way endanger the passengers on this ship, or disrupt the crossing. Do I have your word on that as well?’

‘I can provide no absolute guarantee, but thus far the journey has been a peaceful one. I must ask you, Captain, have you noticed anyone among the passengers and crew who might be of concern to us?’

Captain Smith stood quietly as he lit a cigar he had pulled from a case on the table. A blue cloud of smoke encircled his head as he puffed away. He took a deep breath and savoured the aroma before answering Holmes’s question.

‘I have met a fair number of passengers, but not a fraction of the more than 1,200 on board. As for crew, there are a lot of new faces — people I have not sailed with before. That happens when you get a new ship.’

‘How many people are on board in all?’ I asked.

‘Well, we should pick up another 100 or so in Queenstown. That would bring the total up to around 2,200.’

Holmes crossed his arms and casually stroked his beard. ‘Captain, I have long taken pride in my devotion to facts. But a man in your position, with your long experience, develops strong instincts over the years. Has anything happened thus far that makes you feel uncomfortable about any of the passengers or crew?’

‘Well...there is one man who may require some discipline — one of my lower-ranking officers, Fred Bishop. I caught him in my cabin the other day. He claimed he was looking for me. But when I asked him why, he brought up a small navigational question that could well have waited until later.’

‘Can you tell me anything else about him? Are you familiar with his service record? Is there anything unusual about his mannerisms, habits...?’

‘There is one thing, Mr Holmes. I do not like to bring it up, with all this nonsense about German espionage rings circulating the country. But Bishop does have a trace of a German accent. When I mentioned it to him, he said he had spent a number of years living in Germany and working with German crews. In fact, that had been in his service record and I had forgotten about it. His last assignment was on board a German liner. But I am sure you will agree, Mr Holmes, that is hardly a reason to brand someone as a spy.’

‘I agree, but let us keep an eye on him in any case.’

Miss Norton, noticing the memorabilia on the wall shelves, began to make her way across the room.

‘Young lady,’ the captain said firmly, ‘I must ask you to stand quietly while I am smoking. Your movement is disturbing my smoke!’

After a momentary pause, Miss Norton apologized and returned to her previous position. The captain took several quick puffs from his cigar and the cloud of blue smoke once again encircled his head.

‘There is one other point I’d like to make,’ said Smith. ‘The owner of the line, Mr J Bruce Ismay, is on board this ship. He is staying in a suite of cabins on B Deck. So far, there has been no need to alert him to your activities. But if the situation ever warrants it, I may have to inform him — at least about the particulars that affect this ship. Do I make myself understood?’

Indeed you do, Captain,’ Miss Norton replied. ‘But in that event, I must ask you to inform him that this is a matter of national importance, requiring the strictest secrecy.’

‘Most certainly,’ said Smith. ‘Is there anything else we need to discuss?’

I turned to glance out of the porthole. The skies were clear and the sun danced on the tall waves below. We would be reaching Queenstown later in the morning, and then leaving for open sea.

‘Captain, we will need to use your wireless equipment as a priority.’ Holmes’s directness did not seem to offend the captain. ‘Also, would you ensure that your wireless operators fully understand the urgent nature of any messages we send?’

‘We can take care of that straight away, Mr Holmes. Would you all care to follow me?’

Captain Smith led us outside for a brief stroll around the boat deck to the wireless room on the port side. The crisp sea air was a refreshing change from the captain’s heavy cloud of cigar smoke. As we passed the gymnasium and climbed several steps to a raised section of deck, the captain pointed up to two parallel wires running from mast to mast, down the length of the ship.

‘That is the aerial for sending and receiving messages. As you will see, a connecting wire leads into the wireless room. We have the most advanced Marconi equipment available. I will let the operators explain the details to you.’

The wireless room was a small area located just forward of the elevator gear. As we entered, we saw two young men in their early twenties. One was in uniform, seated behind the Marconi equipment, and the other was lying on a small bed, comfortably attired in a shirt and trousers. On noticing the captain, the man on the bed jumped to his feet. The man at the equipment continued to tap away at the telegraphy key. I was impressed by the tall stack of papers on the table next to him, presumably messages that were being sent by passengers.

‘I beg your pardon, Phillips,’ said the captain. ‘I did not mean to disturb you during your rest.’

‘No trouble at all, sir. I was just resting my eyes.’

The young man at the telegraphy key completed the message he was sending, and rose from his chair.

‘Bride, please pause for a moment,’ said the captain. ‘I want you both to meet three distinguished guests. Commodore Winter, Doctor Watson and Miss Norton, this is Jack Phillips, our senior wireless operator. The young man who was just demonstrating his dexterity at the telegraphy key is our junior operator, Harold Bride.’