The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

by William Seil

  Holmes held a leather case in his hands. It was a case I had seen before while assisting Holmes on missions of questionable legality.

  ‘Your old burglary tools!’ I exclaimed. ‘I must say, you did come well prepared.’

  Holmes selected one of several lock-picks from the case and poked it into the opening. ‘This one should do the trick. It is a relatively easy lock.’

  Moments later, Holmes was lifting the glass lid from the case. He then reached inside and tugged at various portions of the model to determine where it might separate.

  ‘Do make haste, Mr Holmes,’ said Miss Norton. ‘Someone might come.’ We could hear, through the stairwell, voices and movement from the decks above. Passengers, who had been awakened by the encounter with the iceberg, were beginning to stir.

  ‘I am well aware of that. This should only take a...’ A long section of the boat deck came away in Holmes’s hand.

  It was like opening a treasure chest. We all looked over the top of the case and peered inside.

  ‘My God, look!’ Miss Norton, who was not much taller than the case, was struggling to reach inside. ‘You were right, the plans! Thank God!’

  ‘Well, Watson, it looks like I will not be eating humble pie after all.’

  ‘I would not speak too soon, Commodore...or should I say, Mr Holmes?’ Baron and Baroness Von Stern were approaching us from the grand staircase. The baron was holding a gun.

  ‘Good evening, Baron,’ said Holmes. ‘Up a little late, are you not? I am afraid the dining room is closed.’

  ‘We are not looking for a midnight snack. My wife and I were following you. We had camped on deck, outside the smoking room and were about to retire for the night when the big iceberg passed...a magnificent sight, by the way. We saw you run outside, and then down along the deck.’

  ‘What have I always told you, Watson, persistence pays off.’ Holmes, while doing his best to appear calm, had raised his hands and was staring at the baron’s gun.

  ‘By the way, Miss Norton, I owe you my thanks,’ said Von Stern. ‘If you had not now mentioned Mr Holmes’s name, I never would have realized that I had defeated the great detective.’

  ‘Are you going to kill us?’ Miss Norton asked.

  The baron appeared puzzled by the question, then glanced at his wife.

  ‘I am not sure. I suppose I had not really thought about that. Now, we cannot be having you go to the captain before we reach New York. Hmm, what do you say, my dear?’

  ‘I hear voices, Hans. Let us move into the dining room.’

  ‘I suppose that is a good idea. But first, Elisabeth, Miss Norton has something for us. Would you take the plans from her? And, my dear, please be careful not to walk into my line of fire.’

  Miss Norton hesitated, then held out the plans. Frau Von Stern snatched them and walked back quickly behind her husband.

  ‘Scoundrel!’ said Miss Norton.

  ‘Scoundrel, you say? Need I remind you that the engineering principles that make your submarine possible were stolen from us by British spies. You did, however, seem to make some modifications that appear very interesting. We must take them back to Germany for more detailed examination.’

  ‘Hans!’

  ‘Yes, my dear, I know. Gentlemen, Miss Norton, would you please step inside the dining room. We will decide in there what to do with you.’

  The baron waved his gun and I decided that we had no choice but to comply. As I opened the door, I looked at Holmes. I could see that his keen mind was looking for some method of overcoming our adversaries. But the baron was a trained agent. I did not think it likely that he would make a mistake.

  The interior of the restaurant, like the lounge, was dimly lit. We stepped inside and moved back as the Von Sterns entered the room. The baroness closed the door behind her.

  Von Stern looked around the room and pointed to a chair that was standing along the wall.

  ‘My dear, would you remove the small cushion from that chair and bring it to me? I think it is best that we deal with this problem in a prompt manner. But I do not want to make too much noise.’

  I looked around and saw that a champagne bucket was resting on a nearby trolley. I began to reach for it, planning to make a desperate move to knock the gun from the baron’s hand. Much to my surprise, Holmes signalled me to stop.

  ‘What goes on here?’ said the baron. ‘Doctor Watson, I must insist that you keep your hands up. There is no point to your foolish bravado. I would have shot you before you had even reached that bucket.’

  ‘No, no, Baron,’ said a woman’s voice. ‘I am quite sure I would have shot you first. But let us not argue over trifles. Please drop your gun.’

  Miss Storm-Fleming emerged from behind a post, to the baron’s right. She was holding a silver revolver.

  ‘Miss Storm-Fleming, you realize, of course, that I am pointing my gun at your friends. Surely you do not want to see them die.’

  ‘You won’t shoot, Von Stern. The moment your gun fires I will kill both you and your wife. And in case you did not know, I too am a trained marksman.’

  The baroness, who had the cushion in her hand, suddenly threw it across the room in Miss Storm-Fleming’s direction. As it went sailing by, the baron began to turn. Miss Storm-Fleming’s eyes remained fixed on the baron. She fired her gun and the baron’s body was jolted back by the impact. He reached for his chest, looked back to his wife and fell to the floor.

  ‘Miss Storm-Fleming!’ I exclaimed. ‘I am very glad you arrived, although I am uncertain as to what is happening.’

  ‘Did I not tell you to trust me, Doctor Watson?’

  Holmes smiled at Miss Storm-Fleming and delivered a cordial salute. He walked over to the baron’s body, pushed it with his foot, bending over to retrieve the gun.

  Miss Norton lowered her hands. ‘This is astounding,’ she said, mopping her brow on her sleeve.

  The baroness stood in shocked silence. Suddenly, she broke down in tears and ran to the body of her husband.

  ‘Hans, Hans, please, you cannot die!’

  The baroness was on her knees, pulling at her husband’s shoulder, trying to turn the body face upwards. She stopped abruptly to take a handkerchief from her sleeve. The movement seemed awkward and the handkerchief appeared to shine. Miss Storm-Fleming fired again. The baroness crumpled forward, falling on her husband’s body.

  Miss Storm-Fleming walked over to the lifeless couple. Kneeling down on one knee, she examined the two bodies. After reassuring herself that the Von Sterns were no longer a threat, she removed a derringer from the baroness’s hand and the submarine plans from her coat. She then got back to her feet and walked towards Miss Norton.

  When the two women were face to face, she lifted her arm and held the plans in front of her.

  ‘Here you are, Miss Norton. And in future, you might want to take better care of government property.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  MIDNIGHT ON SUNDAY 14 APRIL 1912

  The Titanic was utterly motionless in the water. But it was far from silent. High above the boat deck the ship’s huge funnels were blowing off steam with a mighty roar.

  Holmes, Miss Norton, Miss Storm-Fleming and I were making our way forward to the bridge, where we planned to tell Captain Smith the sad news that he had two more deaths to deal with. We were all reluctant to burden the captain with more problems, since we knew he would be fully occupied with the ship’s structural damage. At that point, we had no idea how serious the damage really was.

  The other passengers and most of the crew were also in the dark. A number of people, awakened by the commotion, were braving the cold to see what all the fuss was about. Some were bundled up in their warmest clothing, while others were wearing coats over their pyjamas. They stood along the rail, shivering and staring out into the dark – but there were no answers to be found. When asked, the crew would speculate that the ship had lost a propeller blade, or that they had stopped to avoid nearby icebergs. No one really knew for
sure.

  But for me, at least, one big mystery had been solved. Miss Storm-Fleming was an agent of the American government. She had been assigned to protect the plans, and all the while keep her identity secret from her British counterparts. (Did Mycroft know?) I had many questions to ask her, but they would have to wait until after we had seen the captain. I restrained my curiosity, knowing there would be plenty of time to talk later on.

  As for the Von Sterns, there were questions about them that would never be answered. Clearly, they were agents of the German government. And quite obviously, they did not steal the plans from Miss Norton’s cabin. But I had little doubt that they had broken into my cabin, and that of Colonel James Moriarty. And what of Moriarty? Was he our thief? If so, who was he working for? One thing was certain: Moriarty could not escape in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. We would soon be dealing with him.

  We arrived at the bridge at an opportune time. Captain Smith was returning with Thomas Andrews, Chief Officer Wilde and Fourth Officer Boxhall. They had been inspecting the ship’s damage.

  ‘My apologies, Commodore, I do not have time for you at the moment!’ the captain said curtly as he opened the door to the bridge.

  ‘Captain, if you please, it is quite urgent.’

  ‘Sir, I am afraid you do not know the meaning of the word!’ He paused and his voice suddenly lowered to a calmer tone. ‘Very well, I suppose you all want to come...and Miss Storm-Fleming, too. Come with me, then.’

  Andrews appeared to be both perplexed and impatient with the encounter. He had a look of urgency on his face.

  Once inside, the captain spoke at once. ‘Mr Andrews, please get started on your calculations. Commodore, would you — and only you — step into my cabin. You have one minute.’

  Holmes and the captain disappeared behind closed doors. Meanwhile, Andrews unrolled plans of the ship’s structure and studied them intently. From time to time, he would jot something down with a pencil or consult his slide rule. He worked furiously, but the resigned expression on his face told me he was merely confirming facts that he already knew.

  Several other men were on the bridge, including Chief Officer Wilde, First Officer Murdoch, Fourth Officer Boxhall and Sixth Officer Moody. Murdoch was nervously looking over Andrews’s shoulder, until impatience caused him to walk over to the ship’s wheel. Gripping the wheel, he looked forward, out of the window, and appeared lost in thought. Wilde was to the rear of the bridge, consulting a White Star manual, while the other two officers spoke quietly to each other in the background.

  In just over a minute, the captain and Holmes returned to the bridge. Much to my surprise, the captain appeared unaffected by their conversation. Equally to my surprise, there was a look of alarm in Holmes’s eyes.

  ‘Any progress, Mr Andrews?’

  ‘I will be finished in a moment, Captain.’

  The captain, forced to wait for answers, looked at each of our faces. We were all eager to know what was going on, but none of us dared to ask.

  ‘I was just telling the commodore that the ship is very seriously damaged. At this moment, we are awaiting word from Mr Andrews on whether she will last the night. But I must tell you, we are in a very grave situation.’

  ‘Was it the iceberg, sir?’ I asked. ‘We got just a brief glimpse of it...’

  ‘Yes, Doctor. Mr Murdoch here was on duty when he got a call from Mr Fleet in the crow’s nest that there was an iceberg right ahead. Mr Murdoch responded quickly by hard-a-starboarding and by reversing the engines. He had intended to steer to port around the iceberg, but it was too close. The huge mass of ice below the water scraped us along the starboard bow. While Mr Murdoch had immediately closed the watertight doors, it did not solve the problem. There is a good deal of water down below and it is coming in fast.’

  We all took a moment to consider the captain’s horrifying account of our situation. I thought back to the debate that had taken place between Mr Andrews and Mr Stead, and their discussion of the lack of lifeboats.

  ‘Sir, the lifeboats...?’ I could not complete my sentence.

  ‘Well, Doctor, if the worst happens, let us just hope there are other ships nearby.’

  We all stood quietly as Andrews completed his work. Before he did, Mr J Bruce Ismay stepped inside, wearing a suit over his pyjamas and a pair of carpet slippers.

  ‘Any word yet, Captain?’ He stopped short when he saw four visitors. ‘What are these passengers doing here?’

  ‘They have my permission, Mr Ismay,’ the captain replied.

  Ismay nodded, suddenly realizing there were more important questions at hand.

  Andrews rose from the table. ‘I have something for you now, Captain, and I fear that it is not good news.’

  Captain Smith put his hand on Andrews’s shoulder. ‘Go ahead, Mr Andrews.’

  He looked the captain in the eye, then turned back to the other officers. ‘This ship has an hour and a half left. Possibly two. Not much longer.’ Again, silence. It was broken by the captain.

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘The evidence is here,’ Andrews replied, directing Smith to look at the plans on the table. ‘This ship can float with any two of her sixteen watertight holds flooded. She can even float with all of her first four holds gone. But she definitely cannot float with all of her first five holds full.’

  ‘But this ship cannot sink,’ Ismay protested.

  ‘I am afraid it can, sir,’ Andrews said. ‘We have water in the fore-peak, holds Number 1 and 2, the post room, boiler rooms Number 5 and 6...’ Andrews picked up his pencil and drew a long line from the bow of the ship going back. ‘That iceberg cut a narrow gash in the starboard side of the ship nearly 300 feet long. We never expected that would happen.’

  ‘But the watertight holds...’ Ismay said.

  Andrews again pointed to the diagram. ‘Once the first five compartments are flooded, the bow will sink so low that the water in the fifth compartment will overflow into the sixth. Then the water in the sixth will overflow into the seventh, and so on... The ship will sink. There is no doubt.’

  The captain decided that it was time to end the conversation.

  ‘Mr Wilde, uncover the lifeboats. Mr Murdoch, alert the passengers. Mr Moody, get out the lifeboat assignments. And Mr Boxhall, wake up Mr Lightoller and Mr Pitman. Tell them to report to me immediately. I will go to the wireless to send out a distress call.’

  Holmes, Miss Norton, Miss Storm-Fleming and I left the bridge and moved down to the forward end of A Deck. We were drawn there by the cries and cheers of a strangely festive group of first-class passengers. As we pushed our way through the small crowd, I was nearly knocked over by a middle-aged man carrying a football-size block of ice.

  ‘Sorry, old man,’ he said, grabbing my forearm. ‘Are you hurt?’

  He was breathing rapidly and a frosty cloud formed between us each time he exhaled.

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘I was in a hurry. I wanted to get below to show this prize off to some friends.’

  He proudly displayed his clear, shining trophy, which glimmered in the electric lights like a giant diamond.

  ‘Tell me,’ I said, pointing forward. ‘What is all the excitement about?’

  ‘Why, the sporting match of the year! When we passed the iceberg, big chunks fell down on to the well deck. Some steerage passengers are down there throwing them around, having a fine old time. Looks like great fun. I got one of them to toss this up to me. I suppose those of us in first class will have to be satisfied with being spectators, what?’

  As he disappeared around the corner, Miss Storm-Fleming spoke softly, ‘Do you suppose we ought to tell them? They do not know, and there are only a couple of hours... So many could die tonight...’

  ‘Perhaps we should leave that to the experts,’ I said. ‘I am sure the captain has a plan that will prevent panic and save as many as possible. And there is a lot of shipping in this area. In this age of wireless communication, we will be surrounded with
help in no time.’

  She nodded, but did not seem to be entirely convinced. We walked forward to join Holmes and Miss Norton at the rail.

  Below, the scene was just as our new acquaintance had described it. Men, children and even a few young women were kicking chunks of ice between imaginary goals. There was no precise means of keeping score but that did not dampen their enthusiasm.

  The cheers of both athletes and spectators blended with the roar of the funnels, which were still belching up steam from the boilers below. In the distance we could hear the sound of the ship’s band, as it played lively ragtime tunes.

  Then, from above, I heard a ‘pop’. Within moments, a bright burst of light spread across the sky. Rockets were being fired from the bridge deck. There was a cheer from the excited crowd. But I noticed that a few passengers standing nearby were suddenly subdued by this display. Frequent travellers, especially, knew the meaning of distress rockets.

  Some of the crew were now trying to break up the crowd on A Deck and get the passengers to assemble inside.

  ‘Will everyone please move back to the first-class lounge,’ shouted a steward. ‘We will begin lowering the lifeboats shortly. The captain has ordered women and children first. I repeat, women and children first.’

  There were no outward signs of alarm from the passengers. In fact, a few ignored the warning completely and stayed by the rail.

  My companions and I, setting an example, immediately responded to the steward’s orders.

  As we moved back through the long corridors, one young woman said to her husband, ‘Well, I am not going out in one of those little boats. I would freeze out there. This ship is as steady as can be.’

  Her husband agreed, but was less certain. ‘Yes, it does not make much sense,’ he said. ‘It must be some regulations they have to follow. You know White Star, everything by the book.’

  As we neared the lounge, Holmes moved to the right and opened a door. He motioned for the three of us to enter. We found ourselves in the reading and writing room, which was unoccupied. After we were all inside, Holmes closed the door, shutting out much of the noise and commotion. The curtains had been drawn across the large bay window, giving us privacy from the passengers who were walking outside along the promenade deck.