The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

by Paul Gilbert

  Within a few minutes, a clean-shaven Inspector Fowler came bounding enthusiastically down the stairs towards us.

  ‘By the way, Mr Holmes,’ Fowler said hastily as we struck out towards the shoreline, ‘at the time of Lomas’s arrest, there was one dissenting voice, which I omitted to inform you of, namely Edward Burnley, otherwise known throughout the community as “Uncle Ted”. However, I should warn you that his objection to Lomas’s arrest could have had more to do with his opposition to Garside than his belief in Lomas’s innocence.’

  ‘Which aspect of Garside is Burnley so opposed to?’ Holmes asked, strangely amused by the use of the word ‘opposition’.

  ‘Oh, the two gentlemen have been rivals for as long as anyone cares to remember. Between them they own and operate nearly every noteworthy business in the area. Garside, for example, is the principal shareholder in the gas company and even instigated the installation of the street lighting. They are for ever running against each other for control of the parish council. However, in all respects, they are as unlike each other as you could ever expect two people to be. Whilst Garside is tall and austere, in his ridiculously high hats, Burnley is short and rotund with a full white beard and a penchant for checked caps and gold watch-chains. Even politically they are fierce opposites. Although held in great affection by the local electorate, Burnley is also regarded by many as being something of an eccentric for holding some of his most liberal opinions, which he is never shy of expressing at every opportunity.’

  ‘Well,’ I laughed, ‘in some respects you certainly have not wasted your time since you came down here.’

  ‘Although the relevance of these facts, at this stage, is dubious to say the least.’ Holmes added sternly.

  By now we had reached the shore and were strolling along a small beach before reaching the main wharves. As we approached Bell Wharf I was amazed at the volume of traffic that so small a town could generate. The principal supply line, for the area, came by way of barges which were unloaded at Bell Wharf. The supplies were then transported to the town centre by a constant stream of carts and boys with barrows. There was even a small tramline which stretched to the heart of Southend.

  We negotiated our way through this traffic with some difficulty, then, having passed a bustling boatyard, found ourselves at the base of the coastguard station.

  ‘We shall begin our enquiries here!’ Holmes announced.

  Fowler and I stared aghast at what Holmes was now proposing. The small wooden office, purporting to be a ‘coastguard station’, was little more than a shack perched on top of a small pier held over the water’s edge by four decaying wooden posts. The staircase, which led to the office door, appeared to be even more precarious, indeed, several missing steps rendered the thing almost impassable and Fowler and I shrugged our shoulders resignedly at the prospect of negotiating them.

  To our astonishment Holmes suddenly raced forward and in an instant, was mounting the stairs in just a few hazardous bounds. From the platform he greeted us with a triumphant wave, but, feeling unable to follow him, we could only gaze enviously upward as he disappeared through the office door.

  Holmes was not to emerge again from the coastguard’s office, for a full hour, and Fowler and I could only speculate idly as to the reason for so long a visit. As was common with someone as enigmatic as Holmes, this would not be made clear to us for some considerable time. During those long sixty minutes Fowler and I marvelled at the endless stream of cocklers who passed by, fully laden on their way to the cockle-sheds, or ‘mushers’. The cockles were, indeed, strange looking little creatures, in their natural raw form, but were, evidently, the very life blood of Leigh-on-Sea.

  We were whiling away our time by skimming pebbles on the calm estuary waters, when Holmes came bounding down the precarious stairs towards us. He bore the look of a man who had just met with some considerable success.

  ‘Gentlemen, I am glad to see that you have spent your spare hour in so productive a manner!’ Holmes laughed.

  In a state of some embarrassment, I discreetly sprinkled my remaining pebbles over the ground and then asked: ‘I assume that your time spent in that death trap was somewhat more rewarding?’

  ‘Oh, considerably so. This case has assumed a totally different aspect as a consequence. However, before I impart to you of the results of my enquiries, I have been informed that the views from the summit of Leigh Hill are most gratifying.’ Without another word Holmes sprinted up a hill so steep that someone with a weaker heart would have been seriously incommoded in its negotiation.

  My attempt at restraining him fell on deaf ears and as usual I was left in his wake and in awe at the boundless energy he seemed to generate when the scent of success was upon him. By the time Fowler and I had joined him at the top of the hill Holmes seemed to have already completed his surveillance and was resting on a small stone wall, his pipe well established. He waved this dramatically before him in a broad sweep.

  ‘It is not often that the entire geographical evidence of a case is laid before you in just one splendid vista,’ Holmes observed. Fowler and I exchanged puzzled glances.

  Having noted this with a little amusement, Holmes continued, still using his pipe as a pointer. ‘To the left we can see the full width of the estuary, wherein the Alicia was last seen. Below us and to the right, we can make out the wharf from where she departed, and to the far right are the mudflats of Two Tree Island, which, as a result of my enquiries at the coastguard office, have assumed a singular significance that even I could not have foreseen.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Holmes!’ I exclaimed, by now unable to contain my frustration at his enigmatic utterances. ‘If the Inspector and I are to take any sort of intelligent interest in this case you must remember that we were not present with you at the coastguard’s office. If you wish me to return to London, thereby intending to continue your investigation alone, please inform me now and I will return to the hotel and begin my packing immediately!’

  ‘My dear fellow, by no means is it my intention to exclude you, nor do I wish for your premature return to London. Any insight into my nature that you may thus far have gained should assure you that the reticence I might show in expounding upon my theories is born of the specialist’s reluctance to show his hand, prior to reaching absolute confidence in their validity. As ever, your continued support and assistance are of the utmost value to me.’ As Holmes concluded this lengthy vindication of his behaviour, he placed his hand upon my shoulder to assure me of his sincerity.

  Naturally, the playful smile on his lips and the eager intensity in his eyes won me over at once. ‘Well, of course I shall stay!’ I assured him emphatically.

  ‘Hah, Watson! Well, we have seen enough here, so, Inspector Fowler, if you can suggest somewhere suitable for a decent lunch, I shall outline my itinerary for the coming afternoon, during the course of the meal.’

  As it turned out, Fowler’s only experience of Leigh’s culinary offerings, had been confined to the dining-room of the Peter Boat. Their fish pie was more than above average and even Holmes’s normally reluctant appetite was tempted by its delights. We three made short work of our luncheon and a tankard each of local ale and before long, over our pipes, Holmes outlined his immediate plans.

  ‘So as not to incur your wrath still further, friend Watson, I would inform you at once that it is my intention to take the first available train to London, as soon as our meal is concluded.’ Holmes now continued hurriedly to prevent my inevitable interjection. ‘However, this apparent retreat will only be for the benefit of any interested eyes that may happen to be upon me. I shall alight at Pitsea station and then take the next southbound train to Southend where, I understand, there is a very fine theatre, of whose wardrobe department I shall endeavour to make full use. You see, there is insufficient time for me to return to Baker Street, but it will suit my purposes admirably if certain parties are convinced of my return there.’

  ‘You are so convinced that there is a conspira
cy afoot?’ I asked quietly.

  ‘We are wading in waters as deep and dark as those of the estuary itself,’ Holmes gravely replied. ‘Upon my return to Leigh, in my guise as an old sea dog, I fully intend to ingratiate myself with the patrons of the Sailors Rest and find out what I may about Captain Johnson and his unhappy crew.’ Having emptied the contents of his pipe into a large glass ashtray, Holmes slowly rose from his chair. ‘Should my itinerary go according to plan we shall meet again by the late evening.’

  ‘So I am to remain gainfully unemployed once again?’ I asked sarcastically.

  ‘Oh no, it shall be quite the contrary, my dear fellow. It shall fall on you to ensure that word of my departure to London be commonly known. It might be as well to begin with the Lomases themselves. I am sure it will not be long before young Edward informs his employer. Then, I think, an interview with “Uncle Ted” Burnley might be in order. You will, inevitably, gain more insight into a man’s true nature from an adversary, than you will ever gain from a close friend or relation.’ Then, with a doff of his hat, my old friend was gone.

  ‘Well, Doctor, Mr Holmes certainly seems to know what he is about. I suggest we drop a word or two into the ears of one or two landlords and while you seek out the Lomases I shall search my notes for Mr Burnley’s address. Shall we meet back here in, say, one hour? Then we shall see what light Mr Burnley might be able to shed upon this matter.’

  I nodded my affirmation enthusiastically, amazed at how willing Fowler was to co-operate with Holmes and his plans.

  I felt rather ashamed at having to disturb the Lomases with the fabricated and unwelcome news of Holmes’s unscheduled return to London. However, I softened the blow somewhat by assuring them that Holmes had not given up on their father and would be returning to Leigh within the next forty eight hours. Edward accepted the news with apparent indifference, whilst his sister’s previous excitable display of disappointment was replaced with a more crestfallen demeanour, for which I felt guilty at having caused.

  The news of Holmes’s departure was spread further around the community by Fowler and myself informing our respective landlords whilst ensuring that others were within earshot. Satisfied that by nightfall not one resident of Leigh-on-Sea would doubt the certainty of Holmes’s departure, Fowler and I kept our appointment to meet at the Peter Boat and immediately set off for the residence of ‘Uncle Ted’ Burnley.

  As it turned out Burnley lived barely a half-mile from the home of his business rival, Nathaniel Garside, in a charming cottage on the New Road. Sadly, the exterior of the cottage and its grounds were in a state of sad neglect, the garden being somewhat overgrown. As we found out, this reflected the chaotic and eccentric nature of its owner.

  Burnley’s renowned liberal stance on every aspect of social and political life explained the size and nature of his household. A robust, middle-aged lady, called Mary, who answered the summons of our knock on the front door, was the cottage’s only other resident and she worked as both housekeeper and cook. However, it was to Burnley’s credit, as her employer, that she carried out her many tasks whilst displaying a most cheerful disposition and much enthusiasm.

  She showed us into a cluttered drawing room and introduced us to Mr Burnley as he walked towards us from the French windows at the rear of the house. He shook us by the hand with gusto and greeted us with a warm smile, exuding charm from every pore. Without requiring prior instruction, at once Mary promised us a tray of tea, whilst Burnley cleared a couple of armchairs of books before inviting us to be seated with a wave of his arm.

  ‘The poor woman is constantly clearing up after me and, I must confess, it is a mostly perpetual and thankless task. However, in all other aspects I am mostly self-sufficient, so it gives her something to do!’ Mary was halfway through the door, on her way for the tea, when Burnley’s jibes caught her attention, but she seemed to appreciate his humour without taking offence.

  ‘I must confess that she does not appear to be terribly put upon,’ I responded in similar vein. As I was speaking, Burnley busied himself by clearing another heap of books from a chair close to mine and Fowler’s, then, perching himself on the edge of his seat he rubbed his hands together as he asked: ‘Now gentlemen, you must explain to me how I can be of service to you.’

  It felt strange to be taking part in an interview and not being required to take notes. Of course, as a representative of the official force, it was second nature for Fowler to use his notebook and pencil and I, for once, was able to sit back and observe my surroundings and the gentleman we had come to interview.

  Edward Burnley was a man of below average height, but of above average girth. Indeed, the ornate gold watch-chain, his pride in which he was locally renowned, seemed likely to snap a link every time he laughed. Although in his mid-sixties, he was blessed with a full head of silver hair, which had been revealed when he removed his colourful checked cap upon entering the room, and this was complemented by a similarly textured beard and moustache. His small brown eyes sparkled from behind the lenses of a pair of steelrimmed spectacles.

  Before Fowler or myself could respond to Burnley’s offer of assistance he enlarged upon his question by adding:

  ‘Naturally, I am surprised to receive such a visit, Inspector. I understood that your investigations in Leigh had been concluded and I was equally certain that Mr Holmes’s return to London indicated that your own interest in the tragic loss of the Alicia was at an end also. Doctor Watson, I am gratified to see, however, that neither of you has been put off by the reputation for ruthlessness which Nathaniel Garside has so justifiably earned.’

  ‘So, you understand the purpose behind our visit, then?’ Fowler said quietly.

  ‘Well, Inspector, I felt certain that it would not be a social visit!’ Burnley said with his customary red-faced chuckle.

  Before we could continue further Mary returned to the room bearing a tray of tea and scones. She stood before Burnley with a frown, indicating the clutter on an occasional table next to him. With mumbled apologies, Burnley hastily removed the offending objects and poured the tea himself after Mary had bustled from the room.

  After we had each consumed a scone and taken a sip of tea, Fowler responded to Burnley in a manner that certainly surprised me.

  ‘To be candid then, sir, at the outset of my investigation I had been hampered in performing my duty by both Garside’s reputation and his undoubted influence both on the local community and my own superiors.

  ‘However, certain arguments put forward by Mr Holmes have convinced me that there may be more than an element of truth in old man Lomas’s original statement, despite its apparently implausible assertions. In fact, I can now readily admit that my desire to further my own career, by pleasing my superiors, has led to an innocent man’s incarceration, the suffering of his family and the destroying of his reputation. I am certain that, but for Mr Holmes’s intervention, these wrongs would not have been righted.’ In a state of red-faced embarrassment Fowler paused for a moment.

  ‘You do realize, Inspector, that in accepting Lomas’s version of events you are acknowledging the probability that the Alicia had been deliberately scuppered?’ Burnley asked.

  ‘I do,’ Fowler replied emphatically.

  ‘Equally, I am sure you are aware that the likely culprit would prove to be none other than the Alicia’s owner, Nathaniel Garside. Therefore you have come to me, his well-known business rival, in the hope that I might provide you with a credible motive.’ There was no hint of admonishment in Burnley’s voice, indeed, he seemed to be full of admiration for Fowler’s honesty.

  ‘You have a full and accurate grasp of the situation, Mr Burnley,’ Fowler replied, raising his eyes to him in hopeful expectantly.

  ‘Well then, you should be glad to hear that I might just be able to provide you with the information that you require.’ The sparkle returned to Burnley’s eyes and he helped himself to some more of his tea.

  At Burnley’s words I was at once filled with the thril
l of anticipation, although I am ashamed to admit that it was more at the thought of Holmes’s reaction to my supplying vital information for once, rather than the actual prospect of Burnley’s imminent statement.

  ‘Despite my well-publicized misgivings regarding the ethics behind the majority of Garside’s business dealings, the local community still regard him with misguided trust and respect. However, one could equally put this down to fear, when you bear in mind how many people within the community depend upon him for their livelihood. His business interests range from numerous shops, boatyards, “mushers”, or cockle-sheds, to a controlling interest in the gas company. In this last capacity, and to his credit, he was instrumental in the laying on of gas and public street-lighting, and he has undoubtedly improved the local highways during his chairmanship of the parish council.

  ‘Unfortunately, none of this seems to be enough for him. His employees are grotesquely underpaid and maltreated and, because he just happens to be their landlord, they are forced to live in horrendously sordid conditions, paying nearly all of their paltry wages for the privilege!’

  ‘It does not seem to me that a man in his eminent position should need to bother himself with the disposal of an antique and redundant vessel,’ I conjectured. ‘Much less the fate of a rum-sodden old seaman.’

  ‘I agree with you sir!’ Burnley responded. ‘Yet I have, subsequently, discovered that Lloyd’s are liable to pay considerable compensation for the Alicia’s untimely loss, and before you ask me why a man of his wealth should go to such lengths and take such risks merely to realize an old insurance policy, I shall tell you.

  ‘Nathaniel Garside is not, as he would like to be regarded, an honourable man. He is a pathological gambler! Gentlemen, do not be deceived by the fact that I appear more liberal and freethinking than my rival, for I am none the less a businessman and possess all the acumen and wiliness of one in my profession. Consequently, I have been able to ascertain, through various business acquaintances, that Garside is not in the sound financial position that one would assume.