by C J Lutton
“There is nothing, nothing at all! This is impossible!”
“Sir!” Holmes said loudly and firmly. “Will you tell us what is wrong?”
Before he could respond, one of the crew burst into the suite. It was the same imposing sailor who had taken Jaeger away. His navy-and-white striped shirt was stained red with blood. His head had a nasty gash. After an animated and whispered conversation with Verne, the sailor looked at us sheepishly and left the room.
Verne’s face had turned the colour of watered milk when he walked back to his desk. Shaking his head, he collapsed into his chair. “Laissez-moi tranquille.”
“My good man,” Holmes chided, scornfully, “now is not the time to be left alone. What did that man tell you? Why aren’t the engines running? Come on, out with it!”
“All hope is lost! Jaeger has escaped the ship! He killed one of my men and accosted the other. That is why my crew member was bruised and covered in blood. I am told that Jaeger has also damaged the engines. One of the diving suits is missing, so he must be out there! There is no hope of warning the Fleet!”
43
Verne’s news rocked Holmes. I, too, felt positively ill.
“What incredible incompetence,” I spat out.
“Never mind, Watson,” Holmes remarked. “It is of no importance. We should be…”
“Of no importance?” I asked, shocked at his acceptance. “Are you mad? What about the Fleet? They’re sailing into a trap, and you say it is of no importance!”
“What I was about to say,” snarled Holmes, “is that we waste an extremely limited commodity to go about casting blame—I mean time, of course. Since there’s no way of warning the Fleet, then we must make sure the pirates fail in their mission.”
“But Monsieur, the ship…” Verne began.
“Take me to the Engine Room,” said Holmes.
Verne led the way while Sherlock Holmes and I followed closely. The great detective’s face was a harbinger of doom as he asked, “Monsieur Verne, Jaeger spoke of mysterious torpedoes of some sort. Would you be so kind as to explain what he was talking about?”
“Certainement,” Verne responded. He launched into an intense conversation with Holmes. The men came to a pause as Verne opened the door to the engine room. Judging by the size of the two mammoth engines, the compartment should have been an area of intense heat and deafening noises, but the only sounds were the swearing of the men, as they attempted to repair the damage Jaeger had caused.
Upon seeing us, an oil-blackened man of undetermined age came forwards, wiping his grease-stained hands on an equally dirty rag. The sailor smiled good-humouredly. “Nuttin’ we can’t fix,” he said, looking at us all. “It’ll take some doin’, but she’ll be hummin’ her favorite tune in a few hours—give or take. Providin’ we don’t find nuttin’ else wrong with her, that is.”
“That’s not good enough,” Holmes admonished.
The smile instantly disappeared from the workman’s face. Verne stepped between the two men, Holmes and the worker.
“Monsieur Holmes and Docteur Watson, this is Thomas Rollins. He knows everything about the Nautilus and how she works. There’s no one more qualified than he. If he tells me it will take a couple of hours, then it will take a couple of hours.”
Rollins extended his ham of a hand for Holmes and me to shake. Holmes glanced down at Rollins’ palm, then into the engineer’s mischievous eyes. The man was having sport with Holmes, knowing full well that a gentleman would never accept the oily-blistered hand from such a dirty character. But Holmes was never put off by honest labor.
Laughing, Holmes grasped Rollins’ hand and pounded the startled man on the back. “Now let me ask you…” Holmes commenced, leading Rollins out of earshot with his arm draped casually over the engineer’s shoulder. Verne and I watched the curious partnership of brain and brawn being formed. It wasn’t long before the two men were chatting like they’d known each other all of their lives.
“D’accord. I will go and tend to my sister,” said Verne, leaving me alone to watch Holmes weave his magic.
44
The animated faces of Holmes and the engineer turned serious as the conversation wore on. At times, their exchanges became quite heated, as they scribbled and sketched on pieces of paper, only to discard the scraps one after another, leaving crumpled balls on the floor. They enthusiastically delved into a myriad of schematics, diagrams, charts, and visited the actual torpedoes themselves, comparing the missiles against one another and the drawings they created. When their conversation ended with confirming nods, they smiled and offered each other congratulatory slaps on the back.
“Mr. Holmes, I’ll say this,” Rollins said, “if this is what you want, then that’s what you’ll get. Criminy, if this don’t beat all! I’ll get somethin’ out of the engines. It might not be much, but the Nautilus will be maneuverable.”
“That’s all I ask,” Holmes responded, handing the drawings back to Rollins. “Let me know when everything is ready. If you will point us towards the Captain’s office, I’ll inform Monsieur Verne of our plans. Come with me, Watson. We’ve much to accomplish and so little time.”
Following Rollins’ directions we arrived at a pair of huge doors carved with marvelous scenes. “Indonesian,” said Holmes. After a single tap on one, we were bade to enter. To our left was an enormous desk made of the same wood as the doors. To the right was a library, an upholstered sofa and two cushioned arm chairs. Monsieur Verne had taken a spot on the sofa, and I was cheered to find the courageous Miss Verne sitting at her brother’s side. Thankfully, she seemed recovered from her earlier ordeal.
“Monsieur Verne,” Holmes began, “I’ve spoken with Rollins, and we have come up with a plan. I will need some of your men.”
“Of course. What can I do to help?”
Sherlock Holmes took a chair. I did, too. My friend recited the most daring and clever scheme that I had ever heard. “At present, everything depends on Rollins and his crew. Until they’re ready, I’ll explain to all of you what I hope is a way out of our perilous predicament. Spending my eternity down here does not sit well with me at all.”
My companion’s words sent a shiver down my spine! It hadn’t occurred to me that Jaeger’s damage to the Nautilus’s engines meant the possibility of us never seeing the sky again. Death does not frighten me, but I did linger over all that I would miss when I was gone. The sunrises, the sunsets, the heather, and the sound of songbirds. A fresh pillow under my head, Mrs. Hudson’s candied ginger scones, and a pasty from the corner vendor.
I shook my head to clear it and smiled. “Tell me of your plan, Holmes. You can count on me.”
“Good. Now where would Jaeger go? Would he seek out the barge? No, I think not. If it were me, I would head for the first ship in the convoy and make my escape. I’m positive that that is precisely what he is doing.”
“And why would he do that, Mr. Holmes?” queried Miss Verne. “Surely, the barge is closer?”
“Perhaps, but Jaeger has no way of knowing what damage Watson and I inflicted upon the barge. It is currently incapacitated. He has to know we managed to break the cable. That’s no small feat. It would make sense for him to wonder what other sabotage we inflicted on that vessel. Besides, why would he go to the barge when it is a ship that he knows is rigged to explode? Furthermore, he doesn’t know whether the barge is navigable. And lastly, would he risk seeking out the barge since it is underwater with a limited air supply? No—my hypothesis is correct. He will get to the surface as quickly as possible and swim for the first ship, the Clarity.”
“Why not one of the other two?” I asked.
“Think, Watson! The last ship, the Collier, has explosives on it, and the second, if you recall when looking through the periscope, was riding low in the water. That suggests she’s weighted down with cargo. That leaves the first ship, the Clarity, which is undoubtedly faster than the second vessel.”
“I see,” I responded. “So that means Jaeger wi
ll climb on board that first ship and escape whilst Her Majesty’s Fleet sails into a trap?”
“Not if my plan succeeds. I believe that you have ten torpedoes on the Nautilus?” Holmes directed his query to Verne.
“That is correct; but they are useless. We have no way of knowing where the barge is. We have no power to steer a course away from here. If we just fire those torpedoes blindly, they could possibly hit the barge, but she may be very close to us. If we do manage to hit her, she might explode and sink us along with her. No, Monsieur Holmes. Those torpedoes may as well be made of stone for all the use they are.”
“Ah, but they do have a use!” said Holmes, jubilantly. “As we speak, three of the torpedoes are being modified to serve us just the same.”
“Please explain, Monsieur.” Verne sounded genuinely curious.
Before Holmes could respond, the Nautilus vibrated to life. Holmes smiled. “Excellent! Whatever you are paying Rollins, Monsieur, it is not enough.”
A tap on the door informed us of a visitor.
“Qui est là?”
“It’s Rollins, Captain. I need to speak with Mr. Holmes.”
“Entrez!”
I didn’t think it possible, but the man was even dirtier and grimier than before. However, now his face beamed with satisfaction. “The first one is ready, Mr. Holmes. And, oh yes, Captain, I got one of the engines running. She’ll do no more than a few knots, but it’s enough for what you have in mind. My men are still working to bring the others back to specs.”
Holmes rose and gave the burly man a clap on the shoulder. “And the volunteers?”
“That was a problem, Mr. Holmes,” Rollins said. His face was suddenly glum. “I could only get sixteen men.”
Sherlock Holmes stood there looking perplexed.
“Cause that’s all the crew there is!” Rollins roared with laughter. “Down to a man, they said they wouldn’t miss this for all the tea in China. Even if it doesn’t stand a chance of workin’.”
Smiling, Holmes turned back to us. “Shall we see the results of Mr. Rollins’ labours?”
We followed Rollins to the engine room and observed only a few men present, as we strolled into the main area. I wondered where the others had gone. My curiosity was satisfied upon entering the area, as it brimmed with the smiling faces of the rest of the crew. Surprisingly, they stood at rigid attention and gathered round an obviously modified torpedo. All were dressed in diving suits and waited anxiously for Holmes to come to the center of the group.
“Here she is—the first of three,” Rollins said, slapping the blunt nose of the torpedo sharply.
“Be careful!” I cried. “Do you want to kill us all?”
“Argh, I’m sorry, doctor. I thought you knew. The explosives were taken out of her.”
“Taken out?” I asked, looking at him incredulously. “Then what good is it?”
My accusatory tone hurt Rollins’ feelings, and he looked to Holmes for help.
“Perhaps I should explain,” Holmes offered, diffusing the situation. “Rollins and his men have acted upon my orders. He was instructed to remove the charge from the torpedo. For what I have in mind, the explosives are not necessary.”
“Go on, Monsieur,” said the inventor, stepping forwards to examine the torpedo more closely. “What are these for?” he asked, tapping a loop of rope in his hands.
“You will notice that there are a total of four such contrivances on the torpedo attached to the cleats,” Holmes answered, allowing us to move forwards for a better view. “These will allow us to hold on as we are carried through the water.” He paused to allow his words to register.
“Are you saying,” I asked, as calmly as I could, “that four men are to be dragged through the water on this?”
“Five. The fifth will be at the rear, steering the torpedo to its destination.”
“That is impossible!” Verne laughed mockingly. “You cannot steer the torpedo. It will only go… Comment dit-on ga en Anglais?” The inventor, looking at his sister, raised his hand and slowly extended his arm out in front of him in one fluid motion. “Tout droit?”
“Straight ahead,” she translated.
“Not anymore, Captain,” said Rollins, stepping forwards. “I think you’ll want to take a look at this. It’s Mr. Holmes’ doin’, and if it does what it’s supposed to, there’s no tellin’ where it’ll end. It’s goin’ to change the way we explore the oceans. Mr. Holmes?”
“Go on, Rollins, you’re doing fine.”
“Right, well, here goes.” Rollins brought a number of different lengths of tubing from behind his back, while one of his men placed an assortment of wedges or triangle-shaped pieces of hammered sheets of metal, on a table.
“You better finish, Mr. Holmes. I’m not sure I’m up to explainin’ it proper.”
“Very well,” Holmes acquiesced. “You and your men have done a splendid job, Mr. Rollins. I’ll take it from here.” The crewmen beamed at my friend’s recognition.
Holmes continued, “My idea was—” all eyes studiously watched his every move, as he assembled the parts and attached them to the torpedo—“to have Rollins and his men manufacture parts that would allow the torpedo to be maneuverable even while it is running. I asked Rollins for the schematics of the Nautilus. Providing me with the same, he explained in exquisite detail the workings of what he called the bow planes and rudder. It occurred to me that, with a little creativity and the crew’s excellent craftsmanship, we might be able to fashion similar parts for the torpedo. These parts would mimic the ship’s steering mechanisms.”
Whilst my friend was speaking, he continued to assemble the parts, threading the different lengths of tubing into the pre-bored holes of the torpedo and attaching the various hand-rolled and hammered triangles to the newly completed assembly.
By turning a specific tube in one direction or another, Holmes changed the angle, determining whether the triangle pointed up or down. This, he noted, would cause the torpedo to run flat, go up, or go down, according to how he turned the controls. As for turning port or starboard, Holmes showed us that merely moving the rear-attached tube along a series of notched grooves would turn the rudder accordingly. Thus, the torpedo was now capable being turned right or left.
Monsieur Verne took advantage of the ensuing silence, as I knew he would, but I was surprised by his words. “It is sheer genius!” he marveled.
The crew burst into applause and an embarrassed Holmes smiled.
“Excellent!” I said, shaking my friend’s hand. “But now that the torpedo can be controlled, where do you intend to take it?”
45
“First things first. It hasn’t been tested yet. Rollins? Please wheel her to the diving room.”
“All right, men,” Rollins ordered. “Put your backs into it and lift!”
Using the hoist, the men lifted the torpedo and lowered it onto a dolly. As they rolled it out of the engine room, the Verne siblings wished us well and left, as did the other extraneous crew members.
“You?” I asked, when I was alone with Holmes. “You’re going to test it?”
“Yes. Oh, please, Watson, I can’t ask the men to do something that I wouldn’t do. Besides, this is the easy part.”
By the time we reached the diving room, the torpedo was already in the water. Holmes stepped into a diving suit. I assisted him attaching the canisters of air. There were two, one hooked up and a second in readiness. Holmes also requested a rubber satchel. For what purpose, I did not ask.
“Here you go, Mr. Holmes,” said Rollins, handing my friend a key like one of those used to wind a clock. “Remember, all you need is a half turn to the right, and she’ll be good. And mind the propeller. Even though we took out three of the batteries, that torpedo can still slice you up pretty nasty-like.”
“Thank you,” Holmes replied, shaking the man’s greasy paw. “Don’t waste any time. Prepare the other three torpedoes. If there are any changes to be made, I’ll tell you what they are when I retu
rn.”
“Right, Mr. Holmes. We’re already workin’ on ’em. Good luck.”
Holmes glanced back with a nod to us. “If everything goes according to plan, I’ll return in fifteen minutes. Watson, please retrieve my helmet for me.”
“I don’t like you going out there alone, Holmes,” I protested. “What if something goes wrong?”
“Nothing will go wrong.”
But something in his manner told me that he was worried. I was about to argue further, when he did something completely out of character: he changed his mind.
“I wouldn’t mind having a little company, if you’re up for it,” he said. From the very first days of our having roomed together, I have never known Holmes to temper his words, but these carefully chosen ones told me that he was indeed having second thoughts.
“Won’t be a minute,” I answered as I plastered on my cheeriest face. While I laboured into the diving suit, Holmes shuffled over to where I was struggling to dress. His diving boots were not made for traversing a normal surface. “You are truly a remarkable friend, Watson. Thank you.” He slapped me lightly on the back.
“We’re in this together, Holmes.”
“Just the same, thank you.”
“Here you go, Mr. Holmes,” said Rollins, joining us. He handed Holmes his helmet and a lamp. “This is magnetic and attaches to the top of your helmet. Just switch it on here. It’ll work in the water with no worries. Is the doctor going, too?”
“Thank you, Rollins. Yes, Dr. Watson will accompany me for the testing of our brainchild. He’ll need a lamp for his helmet, too.”
The engineer glanced at me with an expression of surprise that quickly changed into a smile. “Good show, Doctor. I told Mr. Holmes that you would never sit still, leavin’ him to go out alone. I’ll grab another one for you and get you your helmet.”
Rollins left us alone.
“All set, Watson?” Holmes asked, as he was attaching and re-attaching the lamp to the helmet in his arms. The magnet worked perfectly, allowing Holmes to position the light as he thought necessary.
