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

‘I am sorry, Captain. I cannot board ahead of the other men. Someone on board can bandage the girl’s wound.’

‘Doctor, there are already many men in those lifeboats — and many empty seats too. I am afraid we were not quite prepared to handle all this.’

‘Nevertheless, as a man of honour. I cannot...’

I felt a stinging blow to the back of my head. And, for the second time on this voyage, I lost consciousness.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

MONDAY 15 APRIL 1912

Ifelt a splash of icy cold water on my face, followed by a stinging sensation in my eyes and the taste of salt on my lips. And then, of course, there was that throbbing pain at the back of my head. Quickly I summoned the energy to sit up and rub the water from my eyes.

As my eyes cleared, I saw that Miss Storm-Fleming and Miss Norton were sitting on either side of me in a lifeboat. I strained to peer out into the darkness.

‘The Titanic ?’ I said.

‘Still afloat, but sinking fast,’ said Miss Norton. She pointed back over her shoulder and I turned around, all the while dreading what I would see.

The Titanic was at a steep tilt, her bow well down in the water. But much to my surprise, the mighty ship’s electric lights were still blazing away and the sound of the band penetrated the bitterly cold night air. But they were no longer playing lively ragtime tunes. I recognized the hymn. I had sung it at church services many times:

Nearer, my God, to Thee,

Nearer to Thee!

E’en though it be a cross

That riseth me;

Still all my song shall be,

Nearer, my God, to Thee.

The music blended with the cries of passengers who, in vain, searched for some place of safety on board the doomed ship. Closer by, there was the sound of weeping. Women on board the lifeboat were thinking of their husbands. The fate of those on board the Titanic seemed inevitable. Yet, there was always a faint glimmer of hope... What were they all thinking during these final moments? And what of Holmes?

‘What hit me?’ I asked.

‘I am afraid I did, with the handle of my gun,’ said Miss Storm-Fleming. ‘You were being stubborn.’

‘Our apologies for the sea water, Doctor Watson, but it was all we had.’ Miss Norton was mopping the water from my face with her handkerchief.

‘Miss Storm-Fleming, I do believe that was overstepping the mark...’ She interrupted my rebuke with a stern look.

I looked at the sadness in the eyes of my fellow passengers and said no more.

I noticed that I was wearing a life jacket. So were my companions. Miss Norton said that Mr Wilde had provided them before the boat was lowered. Apparently, there had been some difficulty getting the boat in the water. The angle of the ship had been so steep that the lifeboat continually banged along the outer hull. The passengers in the boat had to push against the hull to provide clear descent into the water.

Our small Englehardt Collapsible was nearly full, but those of us inside were only a handful compared to the 2,200 that had been on the Titanic . Overall, the four Englehardts could carry a total of nearly 200 people. The ship’s sixteen standard lifeboats, larger than the Englehardts, had a total capacity of nearly 1,000. Even if all twenty lifeboats were filled — which they were not — almost half of the passengers would be left without a boat. Their fate would depend on a ship arriving in time. But, given the speed at which the Titanic was sinking, that prospect was looking bleak.

‘Any signs of a rescue ship?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Miss Storm-Fleming replied, ‘although we have been watching that light out there.’ She pointed to a white light miles off in the darkness. ‘It must be a ship, but it has not moved. Surely it has picked up our wireless messages, or seen our distress rockets. But it remains stationary.’

I suddenly remembered something. ‘Oh, the little girl who was injured. I must see to her.’

‘She is well,’ said Miss Norton. ‘We used the first aid kit. Why not rest for a while, and examine her later?’

‘Is everyone else unhurt?’ As I looked about the boat, I saw the familiar face of Bruce Ismay some distance away, illuminated by the light of a candle held by one of the passengers. He was seated behind an oar, helping to row.

‘Ismay is on board?’ I said.

‘Yes,’ said Miss Storm-Fleming. ‘He jumped into the boat just as it was being lowered. I cannot say I really blame him. There was space on board and all the other passengers had left the area. The crew called for women and children, but no one was around.’

‘But still, the owner of the line...’

‘I know captains are supposed to go down with their ships, but I am not sure about owners,’ Miss Storm-Fleming continued. ‘I suspect he will face a lot of questions once we get back. Our lifeboat is filled with mostly women and children, although there are a few of the crew on board to make sure we get to a rescue ship.’

‘Why are we rowing?’ I asked.

‘They are afraid that if the Titanic goes down, the suction will take down any craft that is nearby,’ explained Miss Norton. ‘So they want to be well away.’

Suddenly, pain raced through my head and I was forced to sit back. I thought of Holmes and what must be transpiring on board the ship. Had my friend encountered Moriarty? Was he alive? Would I ever know his fate?

‘Look!’ a woman shouted. We all turned immediately towards the Titanic .

The stern of the ship was rising into the air, slowly, like the second-hand of a clock. As its arc steepened, we heard dreadful crashing sounds caused by the ship’s furnishings and cargo tumbling towards the sinking bow.

There were screams in the distance. Screams from the people who were gathered at the stern, holding on to any part of the superstructure they could find. Screams from those who had already jumped or fallen into the freezing waters of the North Atlantic. On deck, passengers were climbing up the sloping decks on their way to the rising stern. Perhaps the stern would not sink, at least not for a while. Perhaps the air remaining within the hull would hold it above the water until help arrived.

I looked at my watch. It was 2.18 — more than two and a half hours since the Titanic hit the iceberg. My companions in the lifeboat, for the most part, were staring intently at this drama. Their eyes were wide open, some glistening with tears. A notable exception was Mr J Bruce Ismay, who was leaning over his oar, his face buried in his hands.

Out across the water the brilliantly lit ship suddenly glowed red. The lights blinked, then blinked again. Moments later, all that could be seen was the ship’s dark hull, as it eclipsed the bright stars of the night sky.

I watched as the Titanic continued its upward arc. The sounds of screaming heightened. In the darkness, I could only imagine what it must be like for those remaining on deck. The effort needed to hold on to rails and other fixed points grew with each passing moment. Gradually, many would lose their grip and go tumbling down the deck. If they remained conscious, they would soon suffer the stinging pain of the cold sea.

It would be even worse for those still trapped below. Visions of the steerage passengers came to mind — families huddled together in the darkness against the forward wall of their quarters. Uncertainty must be the greatest fear of all. And what of my friends, the Svenssons, whom I had met on my journey through steerage with Futrelle? Did they make it safely to a lifeboat? And what of Futrelle? Was he clinging to a rail, or was he already in the water, with a life jacket keeping him afloat?