The Isle of Devils
Page 35
Can we thus believe that Watson was embroiled in a murder mystery as fantastic as that set down in the preceding pages now known as the Bermuda Manuscript? Even if it is a genuine product of Watson’s hand, as our research clearly supports, perhaps this tale of treasure and revenge is more the product of a feverish imagination after having read one too many tale of Poe and Collins? And yet, we know that Watson seemed to attract law-breakers. Holmes once called him “the stormy petrel of crime” (The Naval Treaty). Besides the case of Percy Phelps, Watson also provided Holmes a convenient personal introduction to Robert Ferguson (The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire), and furthermore, he brought to Holmes’ notice the cases of both Victor Hatherley and Colonel Warburton, the latter of which was never fully documented (The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb).
Therefore, perhaps there is an element of truth to this tale, which would solve one of the great mysteries of Doctor Watson’s background. What happened to the missing five months between the Battle of Maiwand (July 27, 1880) and the fateful meeting of Holmes and Watson at St. Bart’s (the date is never exactly specified, but it is commonly supposed by the noted Sherlockian scholar Christopher Morley to have occurred on January 1, 1881), given that the typical sea voyage between India and England lasted only about one month? Are we to believe Watson when he reports that he spent all of that time in the base hospital at Peshawar (Chapter I, A Study in Scarlet)? A clue perhaps exists in the mention of the HMS Orontes, which was a troopship intended for carrying men to the British colonies in Southern Africa and the West Indies, unlike the HMS Serapis, which plied the route to India. If Watson accurately reported that he disembarked the Orontes on a Portsmouth jetty, then it can likely be concluded that he did not come directly from India.
Some readers may suggest that elements of the tale contained in the Bermuda Manuscript appear to borrow rather too heavily from other Holmes and Watson stories (and even fictional mysteries concocted by other writers) to be authentic. And yet, as the Master Detective himself tells us: “The old wheel turns and the same spoke comes up. It’s all been done before, and will be again” (Chapter II, The Valley of Fear). Perceived unoriginality, I am afraid, cannot solely be used to fashion an assertion of forgery. And what about claims that parts of the manuscript simply do not sounds like Watson? Admittedly, there were fragments of the manuscript that were too water-damaged to interpret, and these small sections required some careful extrapolation. I had considered bracketing these sections for the sake of complete transparency, but ultimately decided it was too distracting from the main thrust of the tale. Scholars who must know exactly which portions I was forced to invent may contact me for clarification. Any other sections of the Bermuda Manuscript that do not appear to have an authentic Watsonian voice can only be explained by the fact that this was his first foray into the world of literature, and it is perhaps not surprising that he had not yet found the mature tone that characterizes such later masterpieces as The Adventure of the Speckled Band or The Hound of the Baskervilles. I freely admit only to creating the somewhat fantastic title, as Watson clearly had not intended these notes for publication, and thus he never bothered to name them. However, I believe that given the titles employed for his other four novellas, The Isle of Devils has a certain faithfulness of which the good doctor would have likely approved.
Finally, Watson had many outstanding attributes that vastly contributed to the success of his partnership with Holmes. We all know of his famous “grand gift of silence” (The Man with the Twisted Lip). Holmes calls him “scintillating” (The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter) and that he has a “native shrewdness” and “innate cunning” (Chapter I, The Valley of Fear). But one of his greatest strengths was his immense modesty. He preferred to be the reflector of Holmes’ undisputed brilliance. But by so doing, he unfortunately left his readers with the false impression that he was lost without Holmes. And yet, Holmes himself says in 1903 that “Watson has some remarkable characteristics of his own, to which in his honesty he has given small attention amid his exaggerated estimates of my own performances” (The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier). And in 1896, Holmes admitted that “I never get your limits, Watson. There are unexpected possibilities about you” (The Adventure of Sussex Vampire). Perhaps this tale is one of those unexpected possibilities? It may finally set the record straight about the true nature of John Hamish Watson, MD.
PREFACE: THE BERMUDA MANUSCRIPT
Many of the items discovered in the Fort St. Catherine storeroom have strange echoes of things later encountered by Watson during the course of his adventures. For example, Holmes raised doubts about the accuracy of the Martini-Henry rifle in 1888, when he claimed he “would sooner face a Martini bullet” than the blowgun of Tonga (Chapter VII, The Sign of the Four).
It turns out that Henry Watson’s dispatch box was even more battered than the one belonging to his brother (The Problem of Thor Bridge). This is perhaps not surprising since even his brother admits that Captain Watson was “a man of untidy habits – very untidy and careless” (Chapter I, The Sign of the Four).
Foolscap is a traditional paper size from the British Commonwealth that was cut to the size of 8.5 × 13.5 inches, as opposed to the now standard A4 paper size of 8 x 13 inches. Watson was well known to have written on foolscap folio (Chapter I, The Valley of Fear and The Adventures of the Bruce-Partington Plans & Norwood Builder). The effects upon writing while travelling in a moving vessel (a train, specifically) were carefully noted by Holmes (The Adventure of the Norwood Builder), but this likely also applies to writing on ocean-going ships of the day.
There are, of course, sixty stories that make up the official Sherlock Holmes Canon, however, two were written by Holmes himself (The Adventures of the Blanched Soldier & the Lion’s Mane), while two were told in a third-person voice, presumably that of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Watson’s first literary agent (The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone & His Last Bow). As such, those four manuscripts are obviously not in Watson’s distinctive handwriting, and are of no use when attempting to confirm the authenticity of this report.
The Houghton Library of Harvard University is the repository for the manuscript of The Adventure of the Three Students. The Berg Collection of the New York Public Library possesses The Adventure of the Norwood Builder, Chapter XI of The Hound of the Baskervilles, as well as the aforementioned The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier, the latter of which we did not bother to consult. Haverford College in Pennsylvania is the proud owner of The Adventure of the Second Stain, having been bequeathed it by the estate of the author Christopher D. Morley (1890-1957), Haverford class of 1910. The Lilly Library at Indiana University holds the manuscript for The Adventure of the Red Circle. The Bibliotheca Boderiana in Cologny/Geneva preserves The Adventure of the Abbey Grange. The British Library is fortunate to have two genuine Watson manuscripts, The Adventures of the Missing Three-Quarter & the Retired Colourman. The Richard Lancelyn Green Bequest at the Portsmouth City Museum acquired The Adventure of the Creeping Man in 2009. Finally, the skeptics at the National Library of Scotland possess the manuscript for The Adventure of the Illustrious Client. It should be noted that this is one of the last Holmes stories published (only four genuine adventures followed it). Although the events therein took place in 1902, the story was not released until 1924, and it is therefore unclear exactly when Watson would have set it down in pen (certainly no sooner than 1912, since he asked Holmes’ permission “for the tenth time in as many years”). Therefore the studied manuscript was written at least thirty-two (and possibly as many as forty-four) years after the events recorded in the Bermuda Manuscript. It would not be an enormous conjecture to hypothesize that a man’s handwriting might evolve somewhat from that of a robust man of eight and twenty years, to that of a more mature man of sixty or seventy odd years, especially if his health had begun to decline. Watson’s date of death is unclear, though it has been reported to have occurred as early as 1929 (when he would have been seventy-seven
years of age).
CHAPTER I: THE SERAPIS
If Watson’s dates are to be believed, the following would be a reasonable timeline of his movements during the year 1880 (most dates approximate):
o July 27: Battle of Maiwand; Wounded in shoulder and leg
o August 10: Completion of 535 mile retreat to base hospital in Peshawar
o August 29: Recuperation nearly complete; Struck down by Enteric Fever
o October 18: Departs Karachi on board the Serapis
o November 2: Transfers to the Malabar at Cape Town
o November 20: Embarks at Dockyard
o November 26: Departs Bermuda on board the Orontes
o December 4: Embarks at Portsmouth, stays for “some time” at a private hotel in the Strand
o January 1, 1881: Introduced to Holmes by Stamford
Watson continued to maintain a diary at least through the year 1889, when he mentioned it again during his adventure on Dartmoor (Chapter X, The Hound of the Baskervilles).
Watson presents a similar recollection of the Battle of Maiwand in his first work intended for publication (Chapters I & V, A Study in Scarlet). General Roberts was a recipient of the V.C., which stands for the Victoria Cross, England’s highest honor for gallantry in the face of the enemy. Colonel Emsworth was also a recipient of the V.C for action in Crimea (The Adventure of the Blanched Solider). Amazingly, despite Holmes and Watson bravely serving England as espionage agents during the Great War (His Last Bow), neither man is recorded as ever being decorated with the V.C. Perhaps the records were suppressed, or perhaps they refused it, as Holmes once did with a knighthood (The Adventure of the Three Garridebs).
Watson recalls his war wounds multiple times in the Canon (Chapter I, A Study in Scarlet & Chapter I, The Sign of the Four), recalling that he brought home a residual Jezail bullet, the “relic of [his] Afghan campaign” (The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor). Watson also makes clear that his tendo Achilles was damaged as a result of his military duties (Chapter VII, The Sign of the Four), such that the ‘two wound’ hypothesis becomes the only possible explanation for his described ailments, and this is finally confirmed by the Bermuda Manuscript.
Since they were both Companions of the Bath, Major General Sir Neville Devere, C.B., was likely familiar with Sir Augustus Moran, C.B., former British Minister to Persia and unhappy father to Colonel Sebastian Moran (The Adventure of the Empty House). Either Violet Devere misspoke or Watson’s memory erred, for we are unable to find any record of a Major-General Devere in charge of the Third Buffs. Of course, the Third Buffs (or the Royal Munsters) were not even stationed in Peshawar or the Khyber Pass in the late summer of 1880, so perhaps Watson was deliberately obscuring the truth in order to protect the confidence and feelings of a lady, as we know he was wont to do? On the other hand, if Watson was not using a pseudonym for the lady, one wonders if she and the general were related to Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St. Simon (The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor)?
Although we know that Watson had a “grand gift of silence” (The Man with the Twisted Lip), one wonders about what actually occurred during the lengthening moments of ‘exquisite silence’ that Watson records occurring on the hospital’s darkened verandah. We know from Watson’s own words that by 1888 he had “an experience of women which extend[ed] over many nations and three separate continents (Chapter II, The Sign of the Four). Was Violet Devere counted in that tally? Interestingly, the name Violet appears more times in the Canon than would normally be encountered for a name of its prevalence during that era (The Adventures of the Copper Beeches, the Solitary Cyclist, the Illustrious Client, and the Bruce-Partington Plans). Perhaps Watson continued to utilize this name subconsciously whenever he was searching for a pseudonym to hide one of Holmes’ clients’ true identities? Although it is crystal clear that Watson marries Ms. Mary Morstan in 1888, she also tragically died by 1891-2, so that Watson was at liberty to return to Baker Street by the time of Holmes’ miraculous return from the Great Hiatus. However, Watson remarried sometime around 1902. The name of this fortunate lady was never divulged, but it is tempting to speculate that Watson may have finally been reunited with Ms. Violet Devere after a twenty-two year separation, both older and wiser, but perhaps still aware of their once strong feelings for each other.
Given Violet Devere’s pet, we now understand why Watson immediately recognized Harry Wood’s mongoose Teddy when he saw it eight years later. He even used identical words to describe the creature (The Adventure of the Crooked Man). The name ‘Ricky’ is of course suggestive, since Rudyard Kipling later used a similar name for a mongoose in his famous tale Rikki-Tikki-Tavi (1894). Perhaps Watson and Kipling were acquainted?
History does not record what became of Watson’s Penang lawyer, although one is later carried by both Fitzroy Simpson (Silver Blaze, 1888) and Dr. James Mortimer (The Hound of the Baskervilles, 1889). It is possible that by 1888 Watson simply stopped calling it by that slightly absurd name, and this was the “stick” that he carried while he and Holmes and Toby hunted Tonga through the streets of London (Chapter VII, The Sign of the Four). We also now understand how Watson immediately recognized Benares metal-work when he saw the chest that once contained the Agra treasure (Chapter XI, The Sign of the Four, 1888), since there is no evidence that he ever visited Benares himself.
Colonel Hayter was not the only weapons-collector in the Canon. Mr. Eduardo Lucas boasted a magnificent collection of Oriental arms (The Adventure of the Second Stain), as did Colonel James Barclay (The Adventure of the Crooked Man), while Robert Ferguson has a collection of South American weapons (The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire). Of course, Watson took Colonel Hayter up on his generous offer seven years later when he and Holmes paid him a visit at his estate (The Reigate Squires).
By an interesting coincidence, twenty years later the Military Hospital at Cape Town would also serve as a place of recovery for young Godfrey Emsworth (The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier), one of the rare recorded cases that Holmes solved without Watson’s assistance.
Amazingly, Doctor Jackson describes Watson in the exact same way as young Stamford would several months later (Chapter I, A Study in Scarlet): “You are as thin as a lash, and as brown as a nut.” Either the description was so remarkably accurate that two disparate people were inclined to the same words, or this is a case of Dr. Watson misremembering the exact details of his meeting with Stamford. To be fair, it was a momentous day, and his attention was soon to be focused on a much more interesting person than Stamford, who promptly vanished forever from the Canon.
Watson clearly played cricket during his ‘school-days’ with Percy Phelps (The Naval Treaty) and there is no reason to think that he would have stopped during his later training, given its popularity in the Empire.
Dropsy (now known as edema) was a build-up of fluids in body tissues, creating swelling often in the ankles and lower legs, and was often caused by a ‘weak heart’ (heart failure), such as that suffered by Lady Beatrice Falder (The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place). Apoplexy, or nervous shock, but now understood to be a type of stroke, struck down both Justice of the Peace Trevor (The “Gloria Scott”) and Colonel James Barkley (The Crooked Man).
Holmes sarcastically “prescribes” a paregoric (a soothing alcohol solution made of opium and camphor) to the asthmatic maid Susan since it can also help with cough (The Adventure of the Three Gables).
Outbreaks of erysipelas would continue for many years until Sir Alexander Fleming discovered penicillin in 1928. Watson read a report of an outbreak in the London evening papers in 1902 (The Adventure of the Illustrious Client).
Dr. Percy Trevelyan confirmed Jackson’s suspicion that it took an “enormous” amount of money to start a medical practice on Cavendish Square (The Resident Patient). Sir Jasper Meek and Penrose Fisher are described as some of the “best men in London” by Watson in 1890 (The Adventure of the Dying Detective), though Sir Leslie Oakshot
t must have been practicing for a considerably long time, since he attended on Holmes after a murderous attack in 1902 (The Adventure of the Illustrious Client).