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

‘Any progress, Mr Andrews?’

‘I will be finished in a moment, Captain.’

The captain, forced to wait for answers, looked at each of our faces. We were all eager to know what was going on, but none of us dared to ask.

‘I was just telling the commodore that the ship is very seriously damaged. At this moment, we are awaiting word from Mr Andrews on whether she will last the night. But I must tell you, we are in a very grave situation.’

‘Was it the iceberg, sir?’ I asked. ‘We got just a brief glimpse of it...’

‘Yes, Doctor. Mr Murdoch here was on duty when he got a call from Mr Fleet in the crow’s nest that there was an iceberg right ahead. Mr Murdoch responded quickly by hard-a-starboarding and by reversing the engines. He had intended to steer to port around the iceberg, but it was too close. The huge mass of ice below the water scraped us along the starboard bow. While Mr Murdoch had immediately closed the watertight doors, it did not solve the problem. There is a good deal of water down below and it is coming in fast.’

We all took a moment to consider the captain’s horrifying account of our situation. I thought back to the debate that had taken place between Mr Andrews and Mr Stead, and their discussion of the lack of lifeboats.

‘Sir, the lifeboats...?’ I could not complete my sentence.

‘Well, Doctor, if the worst happens, let us just hope there are other ships nearby.’

We all stood quietly as Andrews completed his work. Before he did, Mr J Bruce Ismay stepped inside, wearing a suit over his pyjamas and a pair of carpet slippers.

‘Any word yet, Captain?’ He stopped short when he saw four visitors. ‘What are these passengers doing here?’

‘They have my permission, Mr Ismay,’ the captain replied.

Ismay nodded, suddenly realizing there were more important questions at hand.

Andrews rose from the table. ‘I have something for you now, Captain, and I fear that it is not good news.’

Captain Smith put his hand on Andrews’s shoulder. ‘Go ahead, Mr Andrews.’

He looked the captain in the eye, then turned back to the other officers. ‘This ship has an hour and a half left. Possibly two. Not much longer.’ Again, silence. It was broken by the captain.

‘Are you certain?’

‘The evidence is here,’ Andrews replied, directing Smith to look at the plans on the table. ‘This ship can float with any two of her sixteen watertight holds flooded. She can even float with all of her first four holds gone. But she definitely cannot float with all of her first five holds full.’

‘But this ship cannot sink,’ Ismay protested.

‘I am afraid it can, sir,’ Andrews said. ‘We have water in the fore-peak, holds Number 1 and 2, the post room, boiler rooms Number 5 and 6...’ Andrews picked up his pencil and drew a long line from the bow of the ship going back. ‘That iceberg cut a narrow gash in the starboard side of the ship nearly 300 feet long. We never expected that would happen.’

‘But the watertight holds...’ Ismay said.

Andrews again pointed to the diagram. ‘Once the first five compartments are flooded, the bow will sink so low that the water in the fifth compartment will overflow into the sixth. Then the water in the sixth will overflow into the seventh, and so on... The ship will sink. There is no doubt.’

The captain decided that it was time to end the conversation.

‘Mr Wilde, uncover the lifeboats. Mr Murdoch, alert the passengers. Mr Moody, get out the lifeboat assignments. And Mr Boxhall, wake up Mr Lightoller and Mr Pitman. Tell them to report to me immediately. I will go to the wireless to send out a distress call.’

Holmes, Miss Norton, Miss Storm-Fleming and I left the bridge and moved down to the forward end of A Deck. We were drawn there by the cries and cheers of a strangely festive group of first-class passengers. As we pushed our way through the small crowd, I was nearly knocked over by a middle-aged man carrying a football-size block of ice.

‘Sorry, old man,’ he said, grabbing my forearm. ‘Are you hurt?’

He was breathing rapidly and a frosty cloud formed between us each time he exhaled.

‘Not at all.’

‘I was in a hurry. I wanted to get below to show this prize off to some friends.’

He proudly displayed his clear, shining trophy, which glimmered in the electric lights like a giant diamond.

‘Tell me,’ I said, pointing forward. ‘What is all the excitement about?’

‘Why, the sporting match of the year! When we passed the iceberg, big chunks fell down on to the well deck. Some steerage passengers are down there throwing them around, having a fine old time. Looks like great fun. I got one of them to toss this up to me. I suppose those of us in first class will have to be satisfied with being spectators, what?’

As he disappeared around the corner, Miss Storm-Fleming spoke softly, ‘Do you suppose we ought to tell them? They do not know, and there are only a couple of hours... So many could die tonight...’

‘Perhaps we should leave that to the experts,’ I said. ‘I am sure the captain has a plan that will prevent panic and save as many as possible. And there is a lot of shipping in this area. In this age of wireless communication, we will be surrounded with help in no time.’

She nodded, but did not seem to be entirely convinced. We walked forward to join Holmes and Miss Norton at the rail.

Below, the scene was just as our new acquaintance had described it. Men, children and even a few young women were kicking chunks of ice between imaginary goals. There was no precise means of keeping score but that did not dampen their enthusiasm.

The cheers of both athletes and spectators blended with the roar of the funnels, which were still belching up steam from the boilers below. In the distance we could hear the sound of the ship’s band, as it played lively ragtime tunes.

Then, from above, I heard a ‘pop’. Within moments, a bright burst of light spread across the sky. Rockets were being fired from the bridge deck. There was a cheer from the excited crowd. But I noticed that a few passengers standing nearby were suddenly subdued by this display. Frequent travellers, especially, knew the meaning of distress rockets.

Some of the crew were now trying to break up the crowd on A Deck and get the passengers to assemble inside.

‘Will everyone please move back to the first-class lounge,’ shouted a steward. ‘We will begin lowering the lifeboats shortly. The captain has ordered women and children first. I repeat, women and children first.’

There were no outward signs of alarm from the passengers. In fact, a few ignored the warning completely and stayed by the rail.

My companions and I, setting an example, immediately responded to the steward’s orders.

As we moved back through the long corridors, one young woman said to her husband, ‘Well, I am not going out in one of those little boats. I would freeze out there. This ship is as steady as can be.’

Her husband agreed, but was less certain. ‘Yes, it does not make much sense,’ he said. ‘It must be some regulations they have to follow. You know White Star, everything by the book.’

As we neared the lounge, Holmes moved to the right and opened a door. He motioned for the three of us to enter. We found ourselves in the reading and writing room, which was unoccupied. After we were all inside, Holmes closed the door, shutting out much of the noise and commotion. The curtains had been drawn across the large bay window, giving us privacy from the passengers who were walking outside along the promenade deck.

The room must have been recently used, because yellow flames were blazing in the fireplace. We gathered closely in comfortable chairs and leaned forward towards the heat.