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

‘I suppose we could move the sacks and examine the floor. Of course, bound to the post as we are, we would not be able to climb down there, even if there is a hatch.’

‘It could be that there’s someone below us.’

By sliding back to the metal post, Futrelle and I were able to get to our feet. We found that the slack in the rope allowed us both to stand in a crouched position. With our feet bound, it took considerable time and effort to kick the sacks away and expose the floor beneath them. At this point, we both sat down again and felt the floor with our fingertips.

Futrelle uttered an oath under his breath.

‘My dear Futrelle, what is the matter?’

‘I tore my trousers on a jagged piece of metal, bent up from the floor. I may have cut myself too.’

‘Futrelle, can you manoeuvre your hands over to the metal and cut the ropes?’

I heard him sliding along the floor, and then stop suddenly.

‘Watson, could you slide towards the post? I need a little more slack.’

I slid backwards, and soon heard a sawing sound as the edge of the metal rubbed against the rope.

Futrelle stopped for a moment. ‘I think I have almost done it.’

‘Splendid! Keep going.’

Soon, Futrelle was free from his bonds. He then caught his breath, and set to work untying me. When my hands were free, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a box of matches. Despite the dampness, I was able to light one on the first try.

‘Is there anything in here we can burn?’ I asked.

‘Perhaps one of these sacks is dry enough to make a torch.’

‘I do not understand why there are no electric lights. The other holds have them.’

Futrelle looked around in the dim glow of the match. The opportunity was short, since the flame soon reached my fingers. ‘Perhaps there are lights and we just have not seen them. Even with Brandon’s lamp, it was still pretty dark in here.’

‘I am certain that there is no switch by the door,’ I said. ‘Where else would one be?’

Futrelle scrambled about the floor for a while, then returned with a long, square piece of wood. ‘I found this by the crates. We could try wrapping some cloth around it.’

I managed to remove my tweed waistcoat and, after wrapping it tightly around the end of the stick, I used the rope to secure it in place. It served well as a torch and burned brightly.

‘But it will not last for long,’ I said. ‘I suggest we make haste.’

It did not take long to solve the mystery of the missing switch. I found a light fixture on one wall, with a string dangling below. One quick tug at the switch produced an even glow.

‘I will try to push these crates over so they do not block the light,’ said Futrelle.

‘No! Wait! Remember the bomb. You might set it off. We will just have to make do with the light we have now.’

Futrelle nodded, somewhat embarrassed by his rash suggestion.

‘Where do you suppose the bomb is?’ Futrelle asked.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking about that. On the night we left Cherbourg, Holmes and I were in the smoking room, listening to a conversation between a passenger and the ship’s designer, a Mr Andrews. Andrews said that the ship has sixteen watertight compartments, and that it can remain afloat with any two of them flooded — or any three of the first five flooded. I would say that the bomb is likely to be next to a bulkhead somewhere further down.’

We faced each other for a moment, then walked to opposite corners of the hold. Futrelle was the winner.

‘Just our luck!’ said Futrelle. ‘Here it is, in a shadow. All I can see is a bunch of wires, some metal thing and a glass bottle all jammed together in a wooden box.’

‘Perhaps we should try moving it into the light?’

‘We could set it off,’ Futrelle cautioned. ‘First let us see if there is a way out. If Brandon was telling the truth about it going off at one o’clock, we still have lots of time left. What time is it, by the way?’

‘Half past seven.’

We decided to leave the bomb alone for the moment, and spend some time examining possible escape routes. Our findings were far from promising.

As we expected, the door to the next hold was held firmly in place by the chain. On the opposite wall, the cover to the chain locker was fastened by some very large bolts. We could reach the cargo hatch above by climbing on top of the crates but the metal cover would not move an inch. We tried moving crates to reach the hatch cover on the floor but they were too heavy for the two of us to handle. If we had a crowbar or some other means of prying them open, we could perhaps unpack them until they were light enough to move. But that might take hours, and the prospects of escaping by that route were not that good, even if the crates were removed. My previous study of the ship showed that that there was another hold below us, and there was no indication of whether we could move freely to the next compartment.

‘Perhaps we could short the electric lights,’ Futrelle offered. ‘If that blacked out other parts of the ship, they might send an electrician down to find the trouble.’

‘And if it does not, or if they decide to leave the problem until morning, we will be left in the dark. We would have virtually no chance of defusing the bomb. Not that either of us knows anything about defusing a bomb.’

‘I suppose... I wish we could ring for room service. I am extremely hungry.’

I smiled and nodded in agreement.

‘Futrelle,’ I said. ‘There may be another way.’ I was surprised to hear my voice cracking. ‘It would not save us, but it may save the other passengers.’

‘What is it?’

‘We could try to defuse the bomb. If we succeed, then well and good. If we fail, and the bomb goes off, it will only flood two of the holds.’

‘And kill us.’

‘And, as you say, kill us. But the ship will not sink, at least until the second bomb goes off at 1 am. And the threat of two flooded holds might cause the captain to abandon ship.’

‘But there are not enough lifeboats.’

‘Some would be saved. And if the captain calls for help early enough, another ship might come before the Titanic goes down.’

‘I consider our duty is clear.’

We carefully moved the box containing the bomb to the opposite wall, under the electric light. For some time, we kneeled next to it, examining the complex network of wires and components.

‘The bottle of nitroglycerine is down underneath all this other apparatus,’ I said. ‘If only we could just remove it, that would make the whole process simple.’

I tugged gently at the spool-like piece of metal above the bottle, but it held firmly in place.

‘We could try pulling some of the wires,’ Futrelle said.

‘That might trigger it, but then again, perhaps not.’

I tried tugging at another component, which caused a brief whirring sound that made me think twice about continuing that particular approach.

‘If we had a straw and could remove the stopper on the bottle, we could siphon the nitroglycerine out of the bottle and into another container. Then the bomb would be harmless.’

I wiped the sweat off my brow. ‘Not the most helpful suggestion, Futrelle.’

‘Do you have a better idea?’

‘Confound it, Futrelle, I am a doctor, not an explosives expert!’

‘Apologies, old fellow. An unusual situation for both of us.’

‘There is a wire here that is lightly soldered into place,’ I said, pointing to a thin strand covered in red insulation. ‘I am going to give it a tug.’

‘I am with you, Watson. Proceed...but gently, if you please.’

I took a deep breath, then gently placed my fingertips on either side of the wire, down near the connection. I placed the forefinger of my other hand on the component just below the connection, and began to work the wire back and forth.