by C J Lutton
“How dare you, Holmes! I’ve not asked for you to protect me like I am a little child! Why do you…?” I sputtered to a stop. Holmes’ brow had knit in such a manner that my anger evaporated. The pain on his face suggested he was powerfully worried. I asked, “Who is the trap for?”
“A French scientist who wishes to rain total destruction on our country. He has nefarious plans that must be thwarted. It seems this man has built a warship unlike any ever known to man. He has been practicing its destructive skills on individual ships in our navy.”
I nodded. “The Elvira Stockton, the John Sebastian, and the Celestial.”
“Right. His treachery runs much deeper. I believe he is also behind the trouble in Aldershot. After all, building a new type of warship is a costly endeavor. Not being independently wealthy, he needed funds for his dastardly endeavor. Remember that foreign dignitary who was kidnapped in Aldershot? When the munitions were stolen?”
“Yes, and when twenty-three men were killed. I remember what you told me. Go on.”
“It was not exactly as I was told at the time.” Holmes used the toe of his shoe to scuff the floor.
I became enraged. “Of course, it was not as you were told. Nothing about this mess is what it seems! We are surrounded on all sides by liars! So there was no foreign dignitary? Come on, Holmes. This is no time to play coy! Tell me everything you know! Do not attempt to hold anything back. I won’t stand for it. I won’t!”
Holmes’ sigh was long and low. “The foreign dignitary was Prince Wilhelm of Prussia, the Queen’s grandson.”
“My word!” I tried to remember the last picture I’d seen of the boy. It had been in The Times, as an illustration to an article on the Queen’s Jubilee. As I recalled, he was a very good-looking young man. “But he is only, what? Fifteen? How could this have happened? Why was it kept secret? Who does the Bard work for?”
Holmes stared at me.
I said nothing. I waited.
At last, with a sigh, he admitted, “The last question first. My brother.”
“Does the Queen know Her grandson is missing? Or have they kept that from Her?” Given her age, and the fact she’d only recently returned to public life, the subterfuge might have been deemed necessary. Although sooner or later, She would find out. Frankly, I couldn’t imagine how they would keep this news a secret from Our Queen.
“Yes, of course She knows. She is beside Herself with worry.” Holmes scuffed the toe of his shoe. An internal debate was raging within the great detective. After all these years, I could tell when he was arguing with himself.
“You may as well tell me, Holmes. Out with it.”
“According to the Bard, or Zeke, as he prefers to be called, the Prince was held hostage and taken from Aldershot. Mycroft had a choice to make: the thieves held Prince Wilhelm hostage as they moved the munitions through the country and loaded them onto a ship. Then they offered to exchange the young Prince for a considerable amount of gold. Only, the Frenchman tricked my brother. He was told the boy would be transferred to the Celestial.”
“The ship that was destroyed?”
“Yes. The transfer was to happen before the ship docked in Liverpool. But if you recall, the Celestial had a sister ship, the Clarity. A pirate ship that looked like a twin to the Celestial in every way.” Holmes paused to massage his temples. “The Frenchman took the gold and loaded the Prince onto the Clarity, which was sailing under the guise of the Celestial. That’s why the Celestial was destroyed! The Frenchman wanted Mycroft to think the transfer had taken place. But as we know, the Celestial didn’t dock as planned. In fact, if it had docked, Mycroft would have known the Prince was missing weeks ago. No, the Frenchman let my brother think the Celestial was still out there and it had the Prince on it.”
“That drowned lieutenant whose corpse we examined,” I said slowly.
“Was the first mate on the Celestial.” Holmes shook his head. “I only found out from the Bard. My brother would have recognised the man’s true identity when Berthold reported the tattoos.”
I was staggered. “They destroyed the Celestial? All of those British seamen lost their lives in service of that foul gesture? And it happened after the ransom was paid? By all that is holy, this is deceit most foul.” I gathered my wits enough to ask, “Is the Prince dead?”
“No, according to the Bard, he is out there on the Clarity, which is the lead ship. Two other ships, heavily fortified with armour and artillery, follow in its wake.” Holmes pinched the bridge of his nose. “So many of our seamen have already been sacrificed. I’ll give them this: Mycroft and his ilk have done a splendid job of attributing this to sea monsters and the like. It’s truly amazing.”
My eyes swept the breadth and depth of the diving room. The helmets, the suits, the oxygen tanks, and the other gear lined the walls. I wondered what they would be used for, but that was only one of many questions: What were we doing here? What was Holmes planning?
It seemed to me that the damage had already been done. This ship, the Stratford-Upon-Avon, was only a submersible barge. How could we hope to catch up with the Clarity? I doubted that we could rescue the Prince, and of course, the gold and the munitions were long gone.
Or were they?
31
“Where did Ponsonby come in?” I asked. “Was he a sacrificial lamb, too?”
Holmes clapped me on the back. “Good old Watson. As keen as a knife’s edge. You are right, old friend. Mycroft has been quietly seeding all of her Majesty’s ships with spies. One never knows when there’s a plot afoot or a mutiny being planned. Ponsonby was, of course, one of Mycroft’s spies. The Frenchman and his crew left Ponsonby for dead after his keelhauling. As we both know, Ponsonby survived. He told Mycroft about the double-cross, and how the Clarity was substituted for the Celestial. That’s the real reason Ponsonby had to be falsely charged with treason and hanged. Mycroft couldn’t risk the Frenchman knowing that he, Mycroft, knew about the trick with the twin ships. Mycroft needed time to marshal an appropriate response and come up with a plan to rescue the lad.”
“I see,” I said, tentatively. “Let me make sure I understand all of what you’ve said. There’s a mad French scientist who has been boarding English ships and robbing them of the gold that’s been mined in Australia. Essentially, he’s a pirate, although a highly skilled thief of the seas. Once the gold has been transferred, the Frenchman uses the lethal powers of his scientific vessel to destroy the ships. In an even more daring maneuver, he dispatched men to attack the troops in Aldershot, robbing the garrison of munitions and kidnapping Queen Victoria’s grandson, Prince Wilhelm of Prussia. In an attempt to secure the young man’s life, Mycroft allowed the pirates safe passage as long as the young Prince was unharmed. Negotiations have been ongoing. Rather than resort to warfare and bloodshed, Mycroft paid the pirates off, ransoming the Prince for yet more gold and allowing the French ships keep the munitions. But instead of transferring the prince to the Celestial as promised, they put him on the Clarity, a twin of the Celestial in every way. Meanwhile, they destroyed the Celestial and her crew. Thus far the Frenchman has managed to destroy four of Her Majesty’s ships, steal gold from all four, rob Aldershot of munitions and gold, kidnap the Queen’s grandson, and collect a sizeable amount of gold for a pretended ransom. Is that about right?”
Holmes smiled wanly. “Mycroft does not want to go to war with France. We are the superior naval force, it is true, but we are stretched to the snapping point because we have troops in all the colonies. Furthermore, there are rumblings that the Reichstag will pass legislation to fund the building of a German fleet later this year. We cannot risk a fight with the French that will leave us depleted and unable to protect ourselves from the Germans. It’s too risky.”
“And we are now here to do what?”
“Mycroft has charged the Bard—Zeke—with procuring the Prince and sinking the ship of the mad scientist.”
I shook my head. “Come now, Holmes. The scientist must have a name! Th
is is ridiculous.”
“Verne. Jules Verne,” said Holmes.
“The author? But his fantasy was published nearly thirty years ago! And that’s exactly what it was, a tall tale!”
Holmes shifted his weight. The crates were not comfortable seating. “At the time, he tried to raise money to build a ship such as the one in his book. I distinctly recall that he spoke passionately about it to Mycroft after a lecture at the Diogenes Club. Of course, Mycroft and his fellow members thought that Verne was daft. They paid him very little serious attention.”
Holmes cleared his throat. “That seems to have been a mistake. A very, very costly mistake.”
“So Jules Verne is the mastermind behind all of this?” I asked. “How does the Bard expect to retrieve the Prince?”
“According to the Bard,” said Holmes, “the divers will slip aboard the Clarity, the lead ship, grab the boy, and remove him. Mycroft has a spy on the Clarity, and this spy has told him where the boy is being held.”
“I see. So the Bard’s men are going to bring the Prince here?”
“No, not here.” Holmes got to his feet. “We are on course to rendezvous with three British warships, the fastest ships in the Royal Navy. The Bard’s men will sneak the Prince off of the Clarity and onto a ship from the Royal Fleet. They will sail as fast as possible towards a predetermined spot where the Prince will be transferred to land and taken to his parents. As you might imagine, they are incredibly angry and upset that their son was kidnapped on British soil.”
“A warship,” I said, thinking that only a warship could safeguard this young man who was being tossed about like a badminton birdie.
Holmes agreed. “Three warships, actually. At least the young Prince will escape with his life.”
“And then, what happens to the Clarity? Will the Bard fire on it? What about the missing munitions?”
Holmes nodded his approval that I was following his explanation. “The gold and weaponry are divided among all the ships in the convoy. Mycroft told me that he’s decided to let the ships go.”
“Go!” I jumped up. Involuntarily, I’d balled my hands into fists. As a soldier I could not conceive of letting anyone get away with taking the lives of my countrymen, much less of fellow service members. “But they’ve spilled British blood. They’ve plundered our gold and our weapons! They’ve attacked our ships and our garrison. Those are acts of war!”
“True, but they are also the acts of a rogue genius,” my friend said, “and not of the French nation. Mycroft has been reassured repeatedly that if the French catch Verne first, they will destroy him. And, think about it, Watson. Fighting a ship filled with ordnance and weapons would be extremely risky. The Stratford-Upon-Avon is not a fast ship, although she is a versatile one. We would, more than likely, die in the attempt to destroy the three ships.” Holmes stood up and stretched. Then he linked his arms behind his back and walked back and forth. His feet made a hollow sound on the metal deck. “No, we must let them go.”
I was astonished. “That ship and its two companion ships are nothing but pirates. The crew of the Clarity killed the men on the Celestial! They are pirates and kidnappers and murderers.”
Holmes smiled at me sagely. “And they are French. Firing upon those ships would hurry us into war. The French people don’t know that their pirates have repeatedly targeted British ships. They wouldn’t believe it if we told them! No, my friend, we cannot retaliate. Tensions in the Sudan are mounting between our government and the French. Mycroft hopes to keep the fighting there, and not let it come to our shores, because if it does, then surely it will expand throughout Europe. Mycroft would rather have casualties on a distant shore, thank you, than to involve our fair green island.”
Holmes paused and added, “Firing upon the Clarity and her two escorts would be an act of war. It’s one thing for a rogue French element to commit piracy, kidnapping, and murder. Remember: They attacked our ships one at a time and did it anonymously. It is quite another for the highest echelons of the British government to sanction letting British warships open fire on a ship flying the French flag. Furthermore, Mycroft has gone through diplomatic channels to discuss this matter. The French swore to Mycroft that they did not approve of Verne’s mission to kidnap the Prussian Prince and are horrified to learn about his plans. As a matter of fact, they’re eager to wash their hands of the whole mess. No, all three nations involved—the United Kingdom, the French, and the Prussians—want this to be brought to a speedy and bloodless conclusion.”
32
“All right, but where does Mrs. Morel fit into all of this?” I asked. “And what about the sailor with the gold in his gut? Was he her husband?”
“I don’t know…yet.” Holmes looked away.
I persisted. “Mrs. Morel and the sailor must figure into this somehow. Also, why was it important that you be drawn into this skirmish? Someone went to a lot of trouble to call our attention to this nasty bit of business, didn’t they? And why? To wit, someone played the part of a grieving widow, played the part of her maid, played the part of a family friend who was a decorated sailor, and pointed us to a drowned sailor. Why?”
I stopped short of pointing out that we had no reason to assume the worst of Mrs. Morel, at least not yet, but I knew my protestations would fall on deaf ears. Even so, Holmes must have suspected that I was biting my tongue. He responded with a sideways twitch of his lips, holding back a smile.
“Good old Watson,” Holmes said. His eyes took on that faraway look they often get when he’s in the midst of a case. I knew that his comments to me were cursory while his mind was moving quickly in a dozen different directions.
“Why were we brought here?” I asked again. I was not about to quit asking until I had a reasonable answer. Even if I had to shake him out of his reverie, I would.
My friend gave me a guarded smile. “Word of my visit to the Queen got back to Mycroft. He decided that I would never be content unless I saw this adventure through to the end. To be precise, he doubts I would believe the young Prince had been transferred from one ship to another. He decided he doesn’t want me hunting down a handful of French pirates and causing trouble. And of course, he was right. So rather than simply tell me what Zeke was doing, he decided I should see it with my own two eyes. Zeke would explain my brother’s decisions to me. That way I would be satisfied.”
“How is Zeke to accomplish this mission?” I asked. “You’ve handily skipped over the details.”
“This is where Zeke’s men come in. Once the barge pulls alongside the Clarity, we’re going to come up to a depth of twenty-five feet. Zeke’s men will leave from here and swim for it. Their goal will be to board that ship and recapture the young Prince. Once the divers have left the Stratford-Upon-Avon, the barge will drop back and submerge to fifty feet and wait to make sure the British ship is allowed to safely sail away with the Prince on board.”
“And the pirates will not interfere?” I asked. “They will let the Prince go with no trouble?”
“Right. No trouble and a bag of gems as their reward. They’ll get the gems after the Royal Navy ship signals the Prince is safe. The gems must be hidden here, somewhere.”
This confounded me. “My word, Holmes! They’ve already gotten our gold from the ships they’ve plundered and the munitions from Aldershot. All of this and gems, too?”
“Think of it this way, Watson. It is much cheaper to pay them off than fight with them.”
Perhaps Holmes was right. Perhaps Mycroft was, too. Having seen war close up, I should be fine with seeing this one lonely spot remain peaceful. I spoke my mind. “I must say, Holmes, the idea of letting these pirates kill my countrymen, rob us, and kidnap the grandson of our wonderful Queen angers me. But I, of all people, know what the alternative looks like. I know how men suffer when politicians act recklessly.”
“Yes,” Holmes continued, “At the worst, the Bard will fire a warning shot across the bow of the Clarity to prove he has the firepower to blow it out of
the water.”
“Then what do we do?”
“We are here as witnesses. Zeke says we’ll report back to Mycroft, and possibly to the Queen.”
“And the Bard is confident that his men can grab the young man, move him to another ship, and get away from the Clarity without a fight? Even if that ship only has a skeletal crew, that’s a tall order.”
“I asked Zeke the same question, and he only chuckled. When I pressed, he said that I would find out soon enough. His exact words were, Men at some time are masters of their fates.”
“That’s from Julius Caesar.” I added, “Just what are we to do, while all of this is going on? Sit by and stay out of the way? If there are gold nuggets on board the Clarity, that might explain where our drowned seaman was when he was tortured and killed. I didn’t come this far just to be an observer!”
“Nor did I, Watson. Nor did I.” With that, he rose to his feet. Holmes walked to the diving suits hanging on the wall and ran his fingers along the canvas. His arched brow told me what he had in mind. “Watson, do you know how to work these?”
“Not entirely,” I replied, hesitantly. “The seaman told me the rudiments. Why do you ask? You’re not suggesting—”
“Well,” he said, smiling, “if we’re going to board the Clarity, we had better learn how these work, wouldn’t you say? An education not utilized is a wasted education.” Holmes tapped the glass viewing plate on the helmet.
“You’re daft, Holmes. I’m not sure I know where to begin.”
“You said so yourself, Watson. We didn’t come this far to sit and watch.” A thin, deadly smile fell short of his eyes, as he envisioned the liberation of the Prince. For a few moments, we stood in awkward silence.
The noise of a clanging bell roused us.
33
“What’s happening?” I cried, covering my ears.