I heard Holmes emit a grunt of approval and admiration as Daniel Collier read out this last paragraph. He held up the palm of his hand in front of the young fellow’s face, to temporarily halt his narration, then he proceeded to fill his pipe from the Persian slipper.
‘Your father would seem to be both brave and very wise. You must be most proud of his achievements,’ Holmes quietly suggested.
‘Oh, indeed I am, sir!’ Collier agreed enthusiastically. ‘The adventures that he is describing here are not unique among the journals of his travels. I have retained every one of them.’
‘Yet you never sought to emulate him nor accompany him upon these adventures?’
‘Oh, Mr Holmes, although I have inherited his enquiring mind and his fervent interest in ancient religions, my interests are of a more academic bent, and, being in possession of a keen attention for detail, I am certain that my researches into the secrets of the ‘Waiting Stones’ will fully occupy me for some time to come. Perhaps, one day, I shall take up my father’s preoccupations and accompany him to areas further away than Cornwall.’
‘Are there no other reasons why you have not yet done so?’ Holmes asked this question in a tone that suggested that he already knew the answer before it was asked.
Collier hesitated for a moment before he replied, and when he did so he appeared to be more than just a little bit abashed. ‘You are quite right, of course, Mr Holmes. As befits a man of his many talents and achievements, my father is endowed with a somewhat larger-than-life personality. Although I have a deep affection for him and not a little admiration, I do find him overbearing over a period of time, to the extent that I could scarcely imagine being in close proximity to him for what could be months on end. Although I take a keen interest in his discoveries, I try not to let it detract from my own endeavours.’
‘Your father does seem to take greats pains in involving you in every aspect of his journey and I thank you for your honesty.’ Holmes casually waved his hand to indicate that Collier should now continue reading from his father’s second letter.
As we left the Bay behind us the winds dropped dramatically and the Diomedes steadied as the waves fell to a tolerable level. Indeed, as we struck out down the west coast of Africa, we saw some warm sunlight and we were soon allowed back on deck.
When we did so the appalling effects of the storm were immediately evident and it was decided that some timber was needed to repair our shattered central mast. Under normal circumstances the remaining masts might have proved sufficient, however several of the remaining sails had been torn asunder and the air pressure had now risen so sharply that we were positively becalmed and making little progress.
Since we were now lying off of the Ivory Coast, Captain Economides decided to dispatch a small landing party to secure the necessary timber, shards of which appeared to line the water’s edge in rich abundance. He intended to execute the repairs as we progressed, in order to reduce the inevitable delay to our arrival at the Cape.
And so our sorry craft limped towards the Victoria and Albert docks a full sixty-nine days after our departure from London, drawing sixteen feet of water, still nursing our wounded mast. I congratulated Economides on his steadfast seamanship and then ensured that I was aboard the first dinghy to make for shore.
As you might well imagine, upon disembarking I wasted little time in securing for myself a small, but comfortable room, furnished with a deep bath and plenty of hot water. The revitalizing effect was completed by my consumption of the greater part of a more than acceptable Scotch whisky. I then stretched myself out upon a far larger bed than I had been used to aboard ship, there to remain for a full three days!
Once I was suitably recovered, I lost little time in tracking down my old friend, a former army officer, whom I may have mentioned in my earlier journals, namely Lieutenant Marcus Harrison VC. His large house, set back in the lush hills above the Cape, was not hard to find and a friendly Kaffir who laboured in Harrison’s hugely successful livery business, leased me a small trap for a nominal rate.
It was my intention to utilize my time during the period of the refit to the Diomedes, by striking out into Natal to see if any news might be gained of Charlotte’s mission.
Ever since the defeat of the Zulus on the banks of the sacred River Umvolosi and the subsequent death of their warlike King, Cettiwayo in ’84, Zululand has been largely subdued. The occasional insurrection, led by King Divi Zulu, reminded the British of the Zulus’ warrior history, however he had been exiled to the island of St Helena, ironically when you consider that Divi Zulu was a direct descendant of Chaka, the ‘Black Napoleon’. Last year Zululand was formally incorporated into British Natal.
As a consequence the Zulus have now swapped their lethal assegai1 for the plough and trowel and an ever increasing army of would-be immigrants are now being actively encouraged to seek their fortune in this newly pacified land. This was where Harrison and his livery came in. The only form of transport that was suitable for these immigrants and their chattels, to travel over this particular terrain, happened to be Harrison’s large ox-drawn carts.
Harrison kindly offered me the use of his finest cart and pair and, together with three of his Kaffirs, I struck out to the north on the following morning towards what had once been known as the land of the Zulus! Before too long we were clear of the outskirts of Cape Town and as we headed northward we were at once surrounded by a range of magnificent, undulating hills that rose and fell like gigantic waves.
I must confess to having been unable to suppress an intense thrill of excitement at the thought of fifty thousand assegais¹ crashing against fifty thousand shields and their thunderous roar echoing around the very hills through which I was now travelling. It was a sobering thought that, in the very recent past, the impis2 of Cettiwayo had prepared to descend upon their doomed victims from these spectacular rolling peaks.
Now, however, the only sound to be heard was the creaking of my cart’s wheels and the occasional snort from one of my oxen as they toiled towards the Buffalo River, the former border with Zululand. Occasionally we came upon a small Zulu farmstead, but the only reminder of their former ferocious legacy would be a decorative cowhide shield hanging over a doorway or a forbidding-looking young man in a leopard-skin robe tending his cattle. All traces of the once influential witch doctors, that I had come so far to see, had all but disappeared as a result of the new regime strictly forbidding the practising of their ancient arts.
However, my priority remained the discovery of news of our Charlotte and in that quest you should be glad to hear I was considerably more successful. I discovered from Lieutenant Harrison that among the more influential missions was the one at Lovedale run by its Scottish Presbyterian principal, the Reverend Joseph Stewart. He was a gruff, though affable gentleman who was most passionate about his work and who genuinely loved the people he was working amongst.
Over a glass of lemonade on his shaded veranda, Stewart explained to me how it was that Lovedale’s very success had prompted Charlotte to move ever northward, into Matabeleland, where she felt that her efforts and experience would be put to better use. Indeed the opening of the hospital made her feel redundant and, reluctantly, Stewart gave his blessing to her future endeavours.
Stewart receives regular news of the progress at the new mission and assured me that Charlotte remains in good health and in high spirits. He promised to impart news of my visit to her and I turned my cart towards the Cape once more, with a considerably gladder heart than when I had departed. As it turned out, the day of my return was well-timed, for I arrived at the quayside having had barely sufficient time to gather my belongings from my hotel room. I tumbled aboard the Diomedes only moments before she pushed off.
As soon as I had stowed my gear, I got to the deck in time to see Table Mountain shrinking into the misty distance and I turned my gaze towards the Indian Ocean, which was now spread majestically before me. Ignoring the shaking heads and the Greek mutterings of the crew a
s they contemplated the ‘eccentric Englishman’, I remained on deck until the crimson sun had melted into the vast expanse of sea that lay between me and the culmination of my quest.
I was on my way to Calcutta!
Although the letter was by no means near completion, I felt that this was an appropriate juncture to remind my companions that the clock had just announced midnight. Holmes nodded his assent and poured out three cognacs as Collier temporarily folded away his father’s epic letter once again.
Notes
(1) ‘Assegaii’ – a Zulu short stabbing spear
(2) ‘Impi’ – a Zulu regiment
CHAPTER FIVE
A JOURNEY TO THE ISLANDS
‘Gentlemen,’ cried Collier, suddenly jumping up from his chair and still holding his glass of cognac. ‘I owe you both a thousand apologies for having occupied so much of your time with my concerns.’
Holmes dismissed these regrets with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head. ‘Finish your drink and calm yourself, Mr Collier. Dr Watson and myself have both been known to keep the most bohemian of hours, from time to time,’ Holmes assured him.
‘Is there someone awaiting you who may be concerned at your continued absence?’ I asked.
‘No, not at all.’ Collier shook his head, as if ashamed at this admission.
‘In that case, should you have no obvious objections, it might be best if you were to remain here overnight,’ I suggested.
‘Watson! I was on the point of proposing the very same thing,’ Holmes exclaimed.
‘I could not possibly so impose myself,’ Collier protested.
‘Nonsense. I shall instruct Mrs Hudson to make up my bed for you, and I shall spend the night in here. I shall not brook any further protest. I have spent more nights in my chair than you might reasonably imagine.’
So the matter was settled and as I began climbing the stairs up towards my room, I looked back to see Holmes settling into his favourite chair with an ashtray and a supply of tobacco and vestas by his side.
It was no surprise, to me at any rate, to find Holmes already dressed and fresher than we were as I came down for breakfast on the following morning. He was already at his usual breakfast of coffee and cigarettes, by the time Collier and I finally emerged.
‘Bohemian hours indeed!’ Holmes laughed as he tossed a half-smoked cigarette into his coffee cup. ‘I trust that you will take some of Mrs Hudson’s more than adequate breakfast before continuing with your father’s remarkable tale.’
Collier nodded his assent and made short work of his grilled kipper and eggs, a meal which I also heartily enjoyed. Holmes viewed us both with some amusement as he lit another cigarette.
As he wiped his plate clean Collier glanced somewhat sheepishly towards Holmes, obviously aware of Holmes’s empty plate and untouched cutlery.
‘Will you not be joining us, Mr Holmes?’
To save Holmes from the tiresome task of explaining himself I offered an explanation of my own.
‘When Mr Holmes is engrossed in a case, especially one as unusual as yours, he finds that the energy expended in the digestive process could be better used in maintaining the sharpness of his mental faculties. Do not let his abstinence detract from your own enjoyment of the meal, for I assure you that Holmes’s appetite will return upon the successful conclusion of the matter.’
Holmes clapped his hands together gleefully.
‘Well done, Watson!’ he exclaimed. ‘I could not have expressed the thing better myself. However, engrossing as Mr Collier’s letters undoubtedly are, we must not neglect the other matter that has so recently been brought to our attention. I am certain that Lestrade is already being cajoled by the odious Mr Dodd into replacing our services with those of another agency. So, with that in mind, would you stroll to the vendors to procure a copy of The Times while I provide Lestrade with a suggestion or two and dispatch Mrs Hudson with a couple of wires that may prove to be significant?’
‘Of course, the Matilda Briggs affair!’ I must admit that the enthralling nature of Sir Michael Collier’s tale had occluded any thought of the mysterious ship and our unpleasant client. However, as I went to fetch my coat and carry out Holmes’s instruction, the memories of the previous afternoon at the quayside and at the office of the Red Cannon shipping line came flooding back to me. I craved Collier’s indulgence and made for the door as Holmes began scribbling out his notes.
The light mist that I had observed the previous day as it had spread itself lazily across the Thames had thickened substantially overnight. As it merged with the constant discharge from the forest of chimneys that surrounded us, it had transformed into this monstrous, swirling, grey pre-souper that appeared to swallow up all that was in its path.
Even the ‘Empty House’, that had once been the scene of one of Holmes’s investigations and stood opposite to our own lodging became nothing more than a ghostly apparition and any foolhardy passers-by stole along like so many crouching shadows. I turned up my coat collar and pulled down my hat as I continued upon my mission.
As soon as I had stepped out on to the street I was engulfed by the swirling gloom. Indeed, as I made my way towards the corner with Marylebone Road, I missed my footing several times. I reached the stand of Simon, my usual vendor, without any further mishap and the scarcity of customers that morning prompted me to slip him a few extra loose coins to cheer his gloomy countenance. I was on the point of turning for home with my paper under my arm, when the first rays of sunlight began to dissipate the edges of the mustard-tinged fog. I therefore decided to extend my walk, and to while away the time that Holmes would need to put his plans into motion by stretching my stiff legs.
After a hundred yards or so, I decided that I could not trust Holmes’s impatient nature for a moment longer; as there was a real possibility he would ask Collier to continue with his reading in my absence. I turned around sharply at the thought and beat a hasty retreat towards 221B. When I reached the crossroads, however, my attention was drawn towards the opposite corner, for there stood, without a doubt, the very caped figure that had so perplexed me in Pepys Street the previous afternoon!
I stood there rubbing my eyes in disbelief and on this occasion I decided to make after the fellow. My previous vision of the man was so fleeting that I had been unsure of what I had witnessed and, consequently, I could not even bring myself to mention it to Holmes. The traffic was infrequent and so, despite my aching leg, I sprinted over to the opposite corner with the intention of confronting our stalker.
I am not normally prone to flights of fancy, but I could swear that this phantom had vanished into thin air by the time that I had reached the corner where the figure had stood but a moment before. I turned round in a circle and ran this way and that, but all to no avail. Despite all of my best efforts and the improved visibility created by the ever strengthening sun, I was forced to concede that the strange apparition was nowhere to be seen!
Eventually I gave up my search and returned to 221B, determined that this second sighting was certainly no mere illusion. I was entirely convinced that the phantom’s appearance at two supposedly random locations was by no means coincidence, and I immediately lengthened my stride towards home.
In my excitement I took our stairs two at a time, yet, to my surprise, I was greeted by Holmes at the door to our rooms. He held a cautionary finger before his lips, thereby beseeching me to silence.
‘Watson,’ Holmes whispered, ‘if you have any important news to impart to me, please do so at a later time.’ He crooked a discreet finger in the direction of two familiar figures that were seated by the fire.
Sure enough, there was Inspector Lestrade, perched uncomfortably on the edge of his seat with anxiety etched indelibly into his ferret-like features, sitting next to Mr Alistair Dodd, who appeared to be as pompous and pugnacious as he had been on board the Matilda Briggs the previous afternoon. They both halfrose by way of a greeting and I nodded briefly in return.
‘Good day to you Doctor �
�� er.’ Dodd began.
‘Watson!!’ I snapped, still feeling frustrated at having to suppress the recounting of my news.
Holmes moved over to the fireplace and began fumbling for some tobacco from the Persian slipper, while young Collier sat patiently in the corner, evidently ready to resume reading from his father’s letter. Once Holmes had replaced his lit pipe on the mantel he turned around fiercely to face our guests. With his hands on his hips, a stance that splayed out both vents of his long, black frock-coat most menacingly, he glowered down at them.
‘Gentlemen, to what do we owe the dubious pleasure of your company this morning?’ Holmes asked of them.
Lestrade merely stammered nervously and it was left to Dodd to state the reason for their visit.
‘To be frank then, Mr Holmes, against my better judgement and advice my clients have nonetheless decided that you are the best man to carry out the investigation into the Matilda Briggs tragedy on their behalf. I was not at all impressed by your cavalier attitude on board the ship yesterday and your apparent indifference to the seriousness of the situation does not recommend you to me, either.’
‘Mr Dodd, I am hardly likely to be apathetic towards a case that promises to be every bit as stimulating as any that have come my way of late,’ Holmes disdainfully retorted.
‘That is as maybe; however we did not bring this matter before you merely to provide you with some stimulation. We require results and we expect them with as little fuss and within the shortest time as is practicable. Who might this person be?’ Dodd asked as he gestured towards Daniel Collier. ‘I trust that he is not another client and one who might further distract you from your work.’
Sherlock Holmes and the Giant Rat of Sumatra Page 6
