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

After eating a light lunch, Miss Norton, Futrelle and I went to the boat deck for our rendezvous with Holmes. He had asked us to meet him there at precisely two o’clock, and we arrived with minutes to spare. Instead of finding Holmes, we were greeted by Mr Lightoller.

‘Gentlemen, Miss Norton, the commodore has asked me to escort you to the base of the fourth funnel. He is already there.’

‘I wish Holmes had told us what this was all about,’ Futrelle said. ‘I mean no offence, Doctor, but I must say, I do get annoyed by his sense of drama from time to time.’

‘Patience, Futrelle,’ I said. ‘Over the years I have become used to Holmes’s little surprises. And besides, they are good fodder for my stories in the Strand .’

Lightoller motioned us towards the aft end of the ship. ‘This way, please.’

We arrived at a gate and the second officer reached for his keys to open it. We walked across a short span of deck reserved for the crew and passed through another gate to the second-class promenade. The view caused me to shiver because this was the area where we had stood for so long in the cold. There was no evidence of our recent confrontation with the late Mr Brandon and his men.

‘We must climb the ladder to the raised roof,’ Lightoller said. ‘That is the way to the base of the funnel.’

As I mentioned earlier, the fourth funnel was a dummy. Unlike the other three, it was not designed to vent smoke from the boiler rooms. Instead, it was situated above a shaft from the turbine room and used for ventilation. As we stood on the raised roof, a thought occurred to me. We were standing directly above the first-class smoking room. Could tobacco consumption on board be so high as to require an entire funnel?

Lightoller opened a door and we found ourselves in a large open room. Below was the shaft leading down to the turbines. I glanced over the rail and suddenly felt a touch of dizziness. The lights and roar of the turbine room were far, far below.

Miss Norton glanced about the room. After looking in my direction and shrugging her shoulders she turned to Lightoller. ‘Where is Mr Holmes?’

Lightoller smiled and, without saying a word, pointed a finger skywards.

‘Oh, my word!’ gasped Miss Norton.

We all gathered around the rail and looked up through the long funnel. There was an obstruction that was partially blocking the bright, blue light of the sky. The obstruction was moving.

Miss Norton immediately climbed the ladder that brought her to the base of the funnel.

‘Mr... Commodore! Commodore Winter!’ she cried, her voice echoing back. ‘Please return at once — it is too dangerous!’

In fact, Holmes was on his way down. Minutes later, he stepped off the ladder on to the floor of the chamber.

‘Miss Norton,’ he said quietly, sounding somewhat annoyed, ‘Good Lord, you remind me of our dear departed Mrs Hudson.’

Miss Norton stood her ground. ‘What were you doing up there? You could have been killed.’

‘My dear young woman, I am in excellent condition and not quite as old and frail as you might think.’

‘I did not mean to imply... What were you doing up there anyway?’

‘Merely following up a clue...or at least an idea I had. It appears that my hypothesis was incorrect.’

‘What hypothesis?’ I asked.

‘It concerns our little cypher about the “Hot Russian Honey Bear”. As you recall, our mysterious passenger sent a confederate a message, upon the ship’s arrival in New York, to meet him by the “pipe organ in the smoking room”. It occurred to me while standing on deck that the four funnels might look a bit like a pipe organ. I decided that it would be worthwhile to check the one funnel that might possibly be accessible to a passenger. A trifle foolish, I now believe.’

‘You found nothing?’ asked Futrelle.

‘Nothing.’

‘What about your search of Strickley’s cabin? You had hoped to...’

‘Nothing of consequence, Mr Futrelle. I am afraid, thus far, this has been a very unproductive day.’

‘But Holmes, why did you ask us to meet you here?’ I inquired.

‘Time is growing short. I thought it best that we got our little team back together and off in pursuit of more facts.’

‘I agree wholeheartedly,’ said Miss Norton, still somewhat annoyed by Holmes’s gymnastics display. ‘But could we talk outside, in the sunshine?’

‘Of course, Miss Norton.’ He picked up his jacket and hat. ‘And I apologize if I disturbed you just now. I promise to keep my feet firmly planted on deck until we reach New York.’ He smiled at her.

After a moment’s pause, her face, too, brightened into a warm grin. ‘I dread to think what mother would have said if she had seen you up there!’

We continued down to the deck and on through the gates to the promenade deck. It was not long before we were approached head-on by Mr Boxhall. He was walking at a crisp pace.

‘Excuse me, Mr Lightoller,’ he said, paying his respects to a superior officer. ‘The captain wants to see the commodore at once.’

‘Why, what’s happened?’

‘It’s the missing stoker, Strickley... They have found his body.’

Lightoller showed us the way to the crew’s hospital, which was situated on the forward end of C Deck between the crew’s galley and the firemen’s mess. Strickley’s body was stretched out on the examining table. Captain Smith stood by as William O’Loughlin, the ship’s surgeon, and J Edward Simpson, the assistant surgeon, examined the deceased.

The two surgeons made quite a team, indeed. Doctor O’Loughlin was a fine old gentleman who enjoyed walking about the ship conversing with passengers. We had met briefly when Holmes and I accompanied the captain and his officers on their inspection of the ship and then later near the motorcars. Simpson was a much younger man. He had a reputation for being more gregarious and, according to fellow shipmates, had a somewhat mischievous sense of humour.

‘Doctor Watson, it is good to see you again. I am glad you could come as this may interest you.’ Doctor O’Loughlin beckoned me to move closer to the examining table. I greeted him, ‘You remember Commodore Winter?’

The captain then introduced Futrelle and Miss Norton. O’Loughlin seemed perplexed by the presence of these two newcomers — especially the young woman — but said nothing.

‘Well then, back to work,’ said O’Loughlin. ‘Doctor Watson, I think you will agree that there is no doubt about how Mr Strickley died.’

Even from a distance, I could see the line of blood around the stoker’s throat. On closer examination, I saw that the wound was not deep. But there was a thin, red indentation that ran all the way around the neck. The colour of the face confirmed my conclusion.

‘This man was garrotted to death,’ I said.

‘Precisely,’ said O’Loughlin.

Holmes stepped forward to conduct his own examination. ‘Where was the body found?’

‘The kitchen staff found him in a sack in the potato store,’ Simpson interjected. ‘The poor chap’s foot was sticking out of the end of the sack. He...’ The young doctor was silenced by a disapproving look from the captain. ‘We believe he walked down the corridor with his killer, who somehow got him into the food storage area and did the deed.’

‘Did anyone see them walking together?’ Holmes asked.

‘No one we could find,’ the captain replied. ‘We are questioning the crew. Meanwhile, we are completely in the dark.’

‘Captain, I would like to examine the food storage area and the corridor from Strickley’s cabin.’

‘Certainly, Commodore. Mr Lightoller will assist you. And gentlemen, Miss Norton, I must remind you again, discretion is of the utmost importance. We are trying to keep the knowledge of this incident to ourselves.’