by William Seil
‘What is it?’ asked Miss Norton.
‘The commodore wishes us, together with Futrelle, to meet him next to the fourth funnel.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
THE AFTERNOON OF SUNDAY 14 APRIL 1912
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.’
‘Of course,’ said Holmes. ‘We fully appreciate your many responsibilities as captain of this ship.’
I was relieved to see that the captain remained calm and in command of the situation, his mild outburst at breakfast being only a temporary indulgence. I had no doubt that this was a man who could remain strong and decisive through any ordeal.
But I found myself frustrated by our lack of progress in finding Miss Norton’s lost plans. And, beyond that, we were contending with two unsolved murders and the aftermath of a political conspiracy. Yet, despite all this nefarious activity, I found my thoughts constantly returning to Miss Storm-Fleming’s dinner invitation. Why did she want to see me privately? Clearly, she knew more than she was telling. Did she have some information to convey about the plans, or one of the murders? I would soon find out.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE EVENING OF SUNDAY 14 APRIL 1912
By seven o’clock the temperature on deck had dropped dramatically. It was nearly freezing, and most of the passengers had retired to the comfort of the ship below decks. Holmes, after assuring me that there was no more I could do this evening, had rushed off to continue the investigation on his own. After years of following Holmes’s methods, I knew that he could disappear for several hours — or days — and come back with amazing results. But I must confess, it always made me feel somewhat useless. In any case, we had arranged to meet at 11.30 in the smoking room. I would find out then whether or not he had made any progress.
I had time to spare before meeting Miss Storm-Fleming, so I wandered into the smoking room, which was on A Deck. There, I witnessed a most curious exchange between Captain Smith and Mr J Bruce Ismay. The two were engaged in what appeared to be a casual conversation. Having met Mr Ismay earlier, I decided that it would not be out of place to stroll up and pay my respects. The captain greeted me when I arrived.
‘Doctor Watson, good evening,’ he said cordially. ‘We were just chatting about the weather. Have you been on deck lately?’
‘Yes, just now. It certainly has taken a turn for the worse. Is this typical for this part of the Atlantic?’
‘It is fairly common. We are a fair distance to the north.’
‘But not to worry,’ said Ismay. ‘We are making very good time.’
I found this news far from pleasing, since time was our greatest impediment in recovering the plans.
Ismay then took a step towards me and looked about in all directions. After a moment’s hesitation, he spoke in hushed tones.
‘Doctor Watson, I am glad we happened to meet this evening. I have not yet had the opportunity to thank you for your heroic efforts yesterday. Imagine, anarchists on board this ship! If it had not been for you and your companions...well, the outcome might have been disastrous.’
‘I must say, this voyage has been far more exciting than I had expected.’ Once again, my sense of humour got the better of me. ‘I realize that the White Star Line promises its passengers adventure, but I do not believe that this is what you had in mind.’
Ismay laughed politely. ‘No, certainly not. But I am also very glad to see that you are keeping your sense of humour after the ordeal you have been through. Have you recovered?’
I gave the question serious consideration. ‘Much to my surprise, I am feeling better than I have felt in months — perhaps even a trifle younger.’
Ismay seemed perplexed by my answer. But not the captain. There was a knowing look in the eyes of the old seaman.
‘In any event I would appreciate it if you would pass along my heartfelt thanks to your friends,’ said Ismay.
‘I will do that, sir.’
The captain echoed Ismay’s words of appreciation. He then turned to his employer and abruptly changed the subject.
‘By the way, have you got that radio message which I gave you this afternoon?’
Ismay thought for a moment, then reached into his coat pocket. ‘Yes, here it is.’
Smith opened the folded piece of paper and read the message. ‘Thank you. I want to put it up in the officers’ chart room.’
‘Anything wrong, Captain?’ I asked.
‘No, no. Nothing really. There is just some ice ahead of us that we have to keep an eye on.’
He handed me the telegraph. It was from a ship called the Baltic. ‘Have had moderate variable winds and clear fine weather since leaving. Greek steamer Athinai reports passing icebergs and a large quantity of field ice today in latitude forty-one, fifty-one North, longitude forty-nine, fifty-two West.’
I folded the message and returned it to the captain. ‘Is this anywhere near us?’
‘Nothing to worry about, Doctor. We will take all the standard precautions.’
I looked at my watch and discovered that there were only five minutes remaining before I was to meet Miss Storm-Fleming.
‘Please excuse me, gentlemen. I have an engagement in the restaurant.’
‘I will be there soon myself,’ said the captain. ‘The Wideners are honouring me with an invitation.’
‘It was a pleasure to see you again, Doctor Watson,’ said Ismay. ‘I hope the rest of the voyage will be a little more relaxing for you.’
I arrived to meet Miss Storm-Fleming five minutes late, taking pride in the fact that I was only slightly short of breath. Fortunately, she had not yet arrived and I had time to compose myself.
‘There you are! My apologies for my lateness.’
Miss Storm-Fleming was wearing the same red evening gown she had worn at our dinner party on Wednesday evening.
‘I must say that you are looking most delightful tonight.’
‘Thank you, Doctor Watson. But you have seen this old thing before.’ She smiled, then held out her arm. ‘Shall we find our table?’
Some distance away, I saw Moriarty standing next to the model of the Titanic. I was surprised to see that he was not dressed for dinner. The colonel was talking to one of the ship’s junior officers. He appeared to be excited about something, and from time to time looked away from the unfortunate young man and glanced about the room. Upon seeing Miss Storm-Fleming and me, he abruptly abandoned his conversation and stepped hurriedly in our direction.
‘Doctor Watson, Miss Fleming, have you seen the captain? I need to speak to him urgently.’
‘I saw him in the smoking room not ten minutes ago. Why, Colonel, what is the matter?’
‘A most annoying thing has just happened. Someone has broken into my cabin.’
‘What! Do you have any idea who may have done it?’
‘No, none at all. I had been out for a stroll on the deck and returned to my cabin to prepare for dinner. The door was unlocked, which surprised me since I was sure I had secured it before leaving. I assumed, at first, that a careless stewardess was responsible. But when I opened the door I discovered that the room was in complete disarray. The mattress was overturned and my clothing was scattered about.’
‘Was anything missing?’ asked Miss Storm-Fleming.
‘I do not think so. Apart from a little cash and some inexpensive jewelry, I keep all of my valuables in the ship’s safe. Everything seems to be there.’
‘I am very sorry, Colonel,’ said Miss Storm-Fleming. ‘You do not expect that kind of thing to happen on a ship like this.’
Moriarty nodded, and it appeared for a moment that he was about to walk away. But instead he turned to me and spoke softly.
‘Pardon me for asking, Doctor, but I heard a rumour that Miss Norton’s cabin was broken into earlier in the voyage. Do you know anything about that?’
‘There was a burglary in Miss Norton’s cabin on Thursday night. The worst part of it is, the villains also broke into the adjoining cabin, where an old woman was sleeping. They tied her up, but she was not harmed.’
Moriarty raised his eyebrows, but Miss Storm-Fleming did not look surprised.
‘Villains? There was more than one intruder?’ Moriarty asked.
‘The captain investigated. It appears that tw
o men were involved.’
‘And was anything taken?’
‘I do not believe so...nothing of importance, anyway.’
I had played poker long enough to know that I had some talent for bluffing. Moriarty appeared to believe me. He had said nothing about the break-in that took place in my cabin. Did he know? Had he, in fact, been the intruder? And was he being truthful about the burglary, or was his story intended as a red herring to divert suspicion from himself?
‘This is most peculiar, Doctor. I wonder whether there is any connection between the two incidents?’
‘I do not know... Tell me, Colonel, did anyone know that you would be away from your cabin?’
Moriarty thought for a moment. ‘No one that I know of... Although, I did run into our German friend, Baron Von Stern, on deck. He began talking about my late brother. He seemed to think that I should write a biography. While I have no interest in such a thing, I did not see any harm in discussing it. It passed the time as we strolled along the deck.’
‘How long were you together?’ asked Miss Storm-Fleming.
‘Perhaps half an hour. Why? Do you suspect the baron?’
‘Not at all,’ said Miss Storm-Fleming. ‘I just wondered whether someone might have seen the two of you and taken advantage of the opportunity.’
‘Well...if you will excuse me, Doctor, Miss Storm-Fleming, I must make my way to the smoking room to see the captain.’
‘He is expected here shortly,’ I said. ‘He has a dinner engagement.’
‘Then perhaps I will meet him on his way — thank you.’ He nodded to each of us as he left.
The dining room was already full of people, but the head steward had reserved a quiet table for us at one side of the room.
‘Doctor Watson, is it not shocking about the colonel? And your friend, Miss Norton! What is going on?’
‘I am sure I do not know... And you left out the small matter of a murder.’
‘Two murders, if my information is correct.’ She studied my reaction.