The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

by William Seil

  The captain again picked up the telephone, this time to find the young ship designer.

  ‘Holmes,’ I said. ‘Should we not be doing something to take Brandon and his cohorts into custody? They might be persuaded to tell us where the second bomb is hidden.’

  ‘Agreed, Watson, but first things first. Defusing the first bomb should ensure the safety of the ship. And with Mr Andrews’s help, finding the second bomb should not be too difficult. There are only so many places where an explosion would be effective. As for Mr Brandon and his friends, they are fanatics. There is no guarantee they would co-operate, even at the cost of their own lives.’

  The captain put down the telephone just as Boxhall entered the room.

  ‘Good, Mr Boxhall, I have a little task for you to perform... Gentlemen, Mr Andrews will arrive shortly to assist us.’

  The captain explained the situation to Boxhall, who took the news with as much professional demeanour as could be expected. Smith then ordered the officer to find Hanson, confirm that he did indeed know about explosives and take him to where the first bomb was hidden.

  ‘It is now nine o’clock — so please lose no time. If Hanson is unable to defuse the device, we will have to find someone else who can. Mr Futrelle here will go with you and show you the exact position of the bomb. The rest of us will be attempting to locate the second charge. Understood?’

  Boxhall accepted the assignment with calm resolve. ‘Yes, sir. Right away.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Boxhall,’ said the captain, reaching into a desk drawer. ‘You might need this.’

  The captain pulled out a silver-coloured revolver. After checking the chamber, he handed it to Boxhall.

  ‘These are dangerous men, Mr Boxhall. They may come back.’

  The young officer seemed somewhat less assured than he had a moment earlier, but he put the weapon in his coat pocket without hesitation. Then he and Futrelle left, making their way to the bridge.

  ‘And speaking of our Mr Brandon...’ said the captain, ‘it is time that he and his friends learned that this ship and this crew are not to be trifled with.’

  Once again, the captain picked up the telephone.

  Chapter Twenty

  THE NIGHT OF SATURDAY 13 APRIL 1912

  Junior Electrician William Hanson was sitting on a crate, wiping his hands nervously on a large red handkerchief when we arrived. He was describing the bomb’s triggering device to Boxhall and Futrelle, who were stooped next to it, examining its contents. The bomb had been moved to directly under the electric light, which provided a clearer view of its inner workings.

  Hanson stood as the captain walked through the doorway, followed by Andrews, Miss Norton and myself. Before leaving his cabin, the captain had ordered a search of the ship to find Brandon and his friends.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Mr Hanson,’ said the captain. ‘Needless to say, this goes far beyond your normal duties.’

  ‘Anything I can do to help, sir.’

  ‘Was I correct about your service experience? Are you acquainted with such a device as this?’

  ‘Well, sir...’ Hanson cleared his throat. ‘I was never what you would call an explosives expert, but I am trained to follow standard procedures for handling ordnance.’

  ‘But can you defuse this bomb, and another one like it?’ The captain’s voice was calm, but firm. ‘If you are unable to, we will attempt to find someone else. But I do hope that you can, for it is nearly 9.30.’

  ‘Yes, sir, I think I can...’ Hanson was visibly nervous, but he had courage. ‘No guarantees, mind you. But given the time we have left, I am probably your best chance.’

  A thought occurred to me. ‘Captain, could we not simply throw the bomb over the side? It might be safer.’

  ‘I would not advise it,’ said Hanson, taking command of the situation. ‘Once that thing is wired, it is a hair trigger. It might explode, maybe near some people, while it is being carried to the deck. And besides, it would definitely explode when it hit the water, and probably blow a hole in the side of the ship.’

  ‘Your point is well made, Hanson,’ said the captain. ‘Proceed.’

  Hanson’s eyes widened as he looked at the captain, and then the bomb. It reminded me of the first time I performed surgery. Of course, in that instance, there was only one life at stake.

  Hanson rose from the crate, wiped his hands one more time, and approached the bomb. Futrelle and Boxhall backed away to give him room. At that moment, a man in uniform stepped through the door. It was Commodore Giles Winter.

  ‘Captain,’ he said. ‘I came as soon as I got your message. What is all this about?’

  The captain played along with the charade. ‘A bomb, Commodore... planted by anarchists. I am expecting them to be brought before me any moment. But our immediate concern is this bomb...this one, and another planted somewhere on board the ship.’

  ‘Any progress in finding the second device?’ Holmes said, showing mild concern.

  ‘Your friend, Miss Norton, is assisting Mr Andrews in a search.’

  ‘How much time do we have?’

  ‘One o’clock. I thought it wisest to restrict knowledge of the danger to as few people as possible. We have some sound theories on where the second bomb might be hidden.’

  Attention shifted back to Hanson and the explosive device.

  ‘Do you require any assistance, Mr Hanson?’ asked Boxhall. ‘I have spent a little time with explosives, so if I could be of... ‘

  ‘No, no thank you, sir. Another set of hands would not do any good. In fact, sir, I think you all would be well advised to leave the room.’

  The captain remained silent for a moment. He was not the type of man to seek safety, while a member of his crew was in danger.

  ‘We all have work to do. Our most important task is to assist Mr Andrews in finding the other bomb... Carry on, Mr Hanson.’

  Smith began to herd us towards the door. As the last of us stepped over the threshold, the captain turned towards the electrician.’

  ‘Mr Hanson,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You have our thanks and our prayers.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I will report back once I have finished.’

  We passed through the next cargo hold and into the post room. There, we saw Andrews and Miss Norton peering over the deck plans, which were laid flat on a sorting table. The post-room crew had gone off duty, and they were alone in the room.

  ‘Do you have anything to report, Mr Andrews?’ asked the captain.

  ‘We checked all the positions marked in pencil, and we found nothing.’

  ‘Do you need any help — search parties...that sort of thing?’

  Still studying the plans, Andrews replied, ‘I am hoping that we can reason with them. Assuming Brandon knew what he was doing, it must be strategically placed.’

  Holmes slid himself between Andrews and Miss Norton, to gaze at the plans.

  ‘Let me see,’ said Holmes. ‘Mr Andrews, if I recall correctly, the ship can remain afloat with any two of its sixteen holds flooded. Is that not the case?’

  ‘Or any three of the first five.’

  ‘What other factors are important?’ Holmes used the stem of his pipe as a pointer. ‘This first bomb was wedged in a corner between the bulkhead and the hull. Might we expect the second bomb to be placed in a similar position?’

  Andrews squeezed in closer to the plans and ran his finger along the length of the ship. ‘It would be the best way of ensuring success, from the anarchists’ point of view, but look here. The coal bunkers are up against the bulkheads throughout the mid-section of the ship. Access would be very difficult in most areas.’ Andrews paused, and looked up at Holmes. ‘Although, igniting the coal dust would tend to amplify the explosion... But no, that is a little far-fetched.’

  Holmes walked towards the aft wall, which had a box of parcels in front of it. A canvas was draped over it and tied down at each corner.

  ‘What about here?’ asked Holmes. ‘
According to the plans, there is a coal bunker on the other side of this bulkhead.’

  ‘You are quite right, Commodore,’ said the captain, walking to Holmes. ‘But as you can see, that box goes all the way up to the hull. There is no room for a bomb.’

  ‘What about the hold on the port side?’

  A baggage locker, locked and filled to capacity,’ said the captain.

  ‘Commodore Winter may be on to something.’ Andrews abandoned his deck plans and strode rapidly over to the pile of parcels. ‘An explosion here would flood two more compartments. The hull plating is thicker on the other side of the bulkhead, but the exploding coal...’

  ‘Possible, Mr Andrews, but not very likely,’ the captain replied. ‘This room is secured after the post-room crew goes off duty. After that, there are regular safety checks. There would be no time to come in here, unstack the parcels, plant a bomb and restore everything to its original position.’

  ‘If they used a bomb like the other one, it would have a twelve-hour timer,’ Boxhall said. ‘They could not set it up for any longer than that.’

  ‘And the best location would be at deck level,’ Andrews added. ‘An interesting thought, anyway, Commodore.’

  ‘This canvas has been cut,’ Holmes said. ‘Mind you, I did not say torn. It has been sliced with a knife.’

  The captain kneeled down next to Holmes and examined the opening in the thick cloth. He then looked at Holmes, but did not say a word.

  Holmes lifted the bottom of the canvas, revealing the end of a parcel. It was wrapped neatly in paper, with the string tied in a bow. The end of the package was stamped in red with the letters ‘WWU’.

  ‘WWU?’ said the captain, feeling the end of the package. ‘What do you suppose that means? Some university, perhaps?’

  ‘Workers of the World, Unite!’ shouted Miss Norton. All eyes turned immediately to the young woman, who seemed a little embarrassed by the sudden attention. ‘I mean, I saw that before, somewhere...read it in some magazine, I think.’

  ‘Very good, Miss Norton!’ said Holmes, smiling. ‘I think we may be on to something. Did you notice that the string is bowed at the end of the parcel? That is a little unusual... I think I will attempt to pull it open to see what happens.’

  I was not entirely sure that pulling on the string was a good idea. After all, it could have been attached to the triggering device. But there was no time to protest. Holmes reached over and untied the string with a firm yank. Moments later, he was pulling away the paper, and removing a square of cardboard. This uncovered a round opening in the package.

  ‘Does anyone have a match?’

  Boxhall pulled a match from his pocket and gave it to Holmes, who struck it against a crate and used it to illuminate the interior of the box.

  ‘Well, well, well... I see a bottle, and some electrical items. I believe we have found our second bomb.’

  ‘Incredible!’ exclaimed the captain. ‘How did it get down at the bottom of the pile? One of the post-room crew must have...’

  ‘Or, someone posing as a member of the crew,’ Holmes interjected. ‘In any case, the bomb was placed here, in this position, at the beginning of the voyage. After that, setting the timing device became a matter of opening the end of the package and turning a switch. Any skilled thief could accomplish that without anyone noticing.’

  ‘Ingenious,’ said Futrelle. ‘In fact, if you do not mind, Commodore, this kind of thing might be a nice touch for one of Professor Van Dusen’s adventures.’

  ‘Indeed, Futrelle,’ said Holmes. ‘I am sure the anarchists will raise no objection if you include it in one of your stories.’

  Hanson chose that moment to walk into the room. His big red handkerchief was soaking wet as he mopped the sweat off his hands and face. As he walked into the room, he looked like a man who had just run a mile in the hot sun.

  ‘Well, sir, the bomb is all taken care of. I have removed the triggering device. So if you don’t mind, I will run up to my quarters and...’

  ‘No time for that now, Hanson. You will find bomb number two inside that box.’

  Boxhall ran back to steady the man, whose legs seemed to be giving out beneath him.

  The captain spoke. ‘And now, gentlemen...Miss Norton, now that the danger to the ship has passed, let us pay our respects to Mr Brandon and his friends. If the search party has not yet discovered them, we know where they will be at midnight.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  MIDNIGHT ON SUNDAY 14 APRIL 1912

  I must confess to being a creature of comfort. Nothing pleases me more than sitting in front of the fireplace, catching up on my reading. But to his credit, Holmes has sent frequent ripples through what might have been a life of tranquillity. How many times have I been pulled away from my easy chair, or left my dinner on the table, to go running into the night on some adventure? And my life has been the richer for it.

  But there is one form of discomfort that I simply cannot abide. Old soldier that I am, I have never become used to the penetrating chill of a cold wind. And there is no wind worse than the kind that occurs on the open sea.

  I was contemplating the warmth of my cabin that Saturday night as I crouched behind the lifeboat, with my service revolver in my coat pocket. The wind was whipping across the deck and the temperature was below freezing. All in all, this was not my idea of a pleasure cruise.

  Fortunately, none of the passengers was partial to bitter cold weather either. They were all below enjoying the comforts of the ship. The captain had posted men inside to be on the lookout for Brandon’s men, and at the same time to redirect any passenger who might want to wander out on deck.

  Holmes and Miss Norton were at my side. It was our job to stand watch on the port side of the boat deck, along the second-class promenade. The captain, Futrelle and Boxhall were guarding the starboard side. Other members of the crew were posted by the boats at the forward end of the ship.

  I remembered Brandon’s words well. A ship would be waiting for him and his four companions at midnight, a mile off the starboard side of the ship. It was now approaching 11.30. If they were to make their rendezvous, they would have to arrive soon to take one of the lifeboats.

  Miss Norton’s teeth were chattering. In the dim glow of the ship’s lights, I saw Holmes give her a disapproving look.

  ‘Miss Norton, silence is essential.’

  ‘I do not think they are coming,’ she whispered. ‘Not if they know that Doctor Watson and Mr Futrelle have escaped.’

  ‘We cannot be sure of that.’

  Boxhall had issued each of us with a heavy coat. He said he had worked on deck many a time without getting cold. After a while, however, I noted that they were not designed to keep a man warm while sitting still.

  Miss Norton moved close to me. Why had such a young girl chosen such a dangerous career? Being a courier was difficult enough, but this...? If Brandon and his friends did come on deck, I resolved that my chief responsibility would be to protect her. Why had she insisted on joining in this vigil?

  There was a glow on the deck of the ship. Ice was forming! An odd chase this would be if we all ended up sliding into each other...

  ‘I say, Holmes,’ I said, quietly. ‘Do you remember the Roylott case, when we stood watch outside the house at night, and the cheetah and baboon were roaming the grounds?’

  ‘Yes, Watson, I remember. That was a long time ago. As I recall, it was much warmer...’

  ‘Quiet,’ urged Miss Norton.

  I was about to make a brief reply, when she put her fingers over my lips and whispered, ‘No, please, listen!’

  There was a clattering sound coming from the raised area, just forward of the aft funnel. In the dim light, I saw several figures moving about. Quietly, they moved towards the ladder and then disappeared. Moments later, one man, dressed in dark clothing, made his way across the deck. I did not need to see his face. The height and breadth of the man immediately told me that it was Swede.

  The huge figure
disappeared behind a lifeboat, while the others remained hidden around the corner. From time to time, we heard rustling and clanking sounds. While the temptation to leave our hiding place was overwhelming, we remained in the shadows, listening and watching.

  Several minutes passed, during which we heard nothing but the sound of the wind whistling across the deck. Then there was a faint clanking of metal, followed by a cranking sound. The lifeboat forward of Swede began to rise, up, up and over the rail, until it was positioned above the water. Then Swede emerged, cautiously walking to the centre of the deck. He looked all around, fore, aft and up to the raised roof. Deciding that all was clear, he motioned to his friends to come out of hiding.

  Swede returned to the lifeboat and lifted the edge of the canvas cover, as his companions hurried across the deck and stood anxiously by the rail.

  At that moment I felt a tap on my shoulder. Holmes moved casually out on to the deck. His revolver was pointed directly at the men.

  ‘Stay where you are, Hugo Brandon.’ His voice cut through the wind, and the five men searched quickly through the darkness to trace its source. Within moments, all eyes were fixed on Holmes. ‘You will not be going anywhere tonight,’ Holmes said.

  Brandon stepped forwards, peering into the darkness. ‘Commodore, is that you? Why yes, I believe it is.’

  A man in the shadows reached slowly into his coat. Charlie, Kurt, Willy? I could not tell.

  My revolver in hand, I quickly took aim. I did not have time to fire. There was an explosion and flash from Holmes’s gun. The man twisted and fell to the deck, holding his right shoulder.

  Unfortunately, the revolver’s recoil caused Holmes to lose his footing momentarily on the icy deck. Brandon and his men used the opportunity to jump for cover behind a lifeboat. It was directly in front of the boat that had been positioned over the water.

  Holmes, regaining his balance, ran back to Miss Norton and me, pushing us to the deck as he skidded to a stop.