The Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

with a mid-channel collision, is the only one that makes any sense and yet—’

‘Yet you find yourself believing your father, and I shall begin my investigation based on the premise that he was speaking the absolute truth. What action did he take next?’ Holmes asked in his most calming of tones.

‘Bless you, Mr Holmes, for believing in our poor father, although I would not have wondered had you not. Our father now reset his sail and turned his small craft about, towards the Alicia’s last visible position. He had hoped to pick up any survivors, but there was none. No survivors and no bodies! Mr Holmes, there was not even the smallest piece of wreckage to be found. It was as if the ship had never even existed. A vessel of her size cannot just sink without cause or trace. Yet all he could find, despite his diligent efforts, was a small stretch of hauling rope with a most strangely frayed end.

‘Distraught and defeated he set sail for home once more and having reached shore spent the next forty-eight hours drinking himself into a stupor. By the time he had emerged from this word had already been received from Dieppe, the search flotillas been dispatched and had returned empty-handed. As my sister has previously explained, by this time our father’s version of events seemed like the ramblings of a drunken lunatic to the townsfolk, who were feeling such a grievous loss. Mr Holmes, there is nothing more that we can tell you. Can you give us any hope?’ Lomas was now leaning forward expectantly.

‘The case against your father certainly seems to be a strong one,’ Holmes responded gravely. ‘Although the local authorities seemed to be somewhat prejudiced in their refusal to accept the possibility that the Alicia had set sail with a hole in her hull. Assuming that this premise is correct, however, then your case is raised up to an entirely different level altogether! I am equally curious about a haul rope with a frayed end.’ Then, almost talking to himself, Holmes continued quietly: ‘Yes, it is most perplexing, unless …’

‘Unless what, Holmes?’ I queried.

‘Watson! Look at the time!’ Holmes suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly. ‘We cannot expect these young people to return to the Essex coast at such an hour. I insist that you both stay the night and we shall all journey to Leigh-on Sea together on tomorrow’s first available train.’

‘We could not possibly so impose upon you,’ Lomas objected, having exchanged a glance with his sister.

‘Nonsense! As Watson will assure you, we have endured far less comfortable sleeping arrangements than our own sitting room! I shall have Mrs Hudson make up your beds at once.’

There was not a further word of argument and whilst I was bundled on to the settee, to make way for Miss Lomas, Holmes was more than pleased to take to his favourite chair for the night and vacate his room for her brother. Although my army training allowed me to fall asleep even under the most trying of conditions, what sleep I did take was most fitful. I was disturbed to note that, on each occasion that I awoke, my friend was still seated upright smoking heavily from his pipe, clearly with no inclination to fall asleep himself. During one such moment I interrupted his deep meditation with a softly whispered question.

‘Holmes, clearly you have already formulated a germ of a theory that would not have occurred to another living soul. Whilst I would not expect you to divulge its nature to me at this early stage, I strongly feel that there is an ulterior motive behind your invitation to the Lomases other than mere hospitality. Would you not, at the least, explain to me what that might be?’

Holmes turned slowly towards me, eyeing me quizzically whilst arching one eyebrow. He removed the pipe from his lips before replying in a hushed tone that was barely audible.

‘Your inclination towards cynicism is matched only by your faculty for deduction, friend Watson. However, it is true to say that I am positive that there are certain interested parties in Leigh whom I would much prefer not to have prior notice of our coming. Whilst I am sure the Lomases would not have divulged this fact mischievously, they are, none the less, simple folk who might, inadvertently, have compromised our element of surprise. Now, our Bradshaw indicates an early departure from Fenchurch Street, so I would advise you to sleep rather than indulge in premature speculation.’ Without another word Holmes relit his pipe and returned to his previous pose, leaving me to lull myself back to sleep with the type of idle theorizing that he would have despised.

Our early arrival, at the station the following morning allowed us the time for a light breakfast that Holmes had not permitted us to take at Baker Street. Our young guests seemed somewhat the worse for wear, no doubt a consequence of their unexpected overnight stay and the draining experience of relating their heart-rending tale, so they were extremely glad of this refreshment. There was an anticipatory silence in our carriage throughout the relatively short journey and we had actually arrived at the picturesque fishing village before a single word was spoken.

‘I shall rejoin you by this evening!’ Holmes announced to our complete astonishment. He promptly jumped back on to the train just as it had begun to pull away from the platform.

The Lomases turned to me, dismayed and bemused by Holmes’s unexpected and sudden departure.

‘Does Mr Holmes not now wish to assist us?’ Mildred Lomas breathlessly asked of me.

‘I am sure that that is still his intention,’ I answered emphatically. ‘However, Mr Holmes works to his own methods and, even his most surprising actions will be vindicated by their results.’ Despite this outward display of cheerful optimism, I harboured my own misgivings at Holmes’s infuriatingly enigmatic behaviour. His purpose in remaining on the train was completely beyond me. Surely, I reasoned, the mystery and therefore our investigation began and ended in the delightful, though now tragic, fishing village of Leigh-on-Sea. I briefly studied the schedule of the remainder of our train’s journey, which indicated stops at Chalkwell, Westcliff, Southend, Thorpe Bay and Shoeburyness, yet none of these places suggested anything of interest or significance. Like the Lomases, I was resigned to awaiting Holmes’s return before we could be enlightened as to the purpose of his mysterious departure.

Apologetically, the Lomases recommended the Ship hotel to me, as being ideal accommodation for Holmes and myself. Their small household was much disturbed, at present, and they were, therefore, unable to reciprocate our hospitality of the previous night. I waved this apology aside and suggested that we should all meet again after supper, by which time I was certain that Holmes would have rejoined us. They promptly agreed to this arrangement and I was left to trudge off towards the bottom of Leigh Hill where, I understood, our tavern might be found, still in possession of Holmes’s abandoned bag.

Our rooms were spartan and charmless, although they afforded a view of the estuary and a pungent odour from its mud flats. After a brief conversation with our equally charmless landlord, whereby I discovered our mealtimes and the tavern’s reputation for having harboured smugglers in the old days, I struck out for Hadleigh Castle, the ruins of which our train had taken us past just prior to pulling into the station.

My walk was somewhat arduous as the ruins were at the summit of a steep hill. When I eventually reached them I was disappointed to discover that a single crumbling wall was all that remained of this small Norman castle. I only stayed long enough to enjoy a pipe before returning to the tavern in time for an early supper and, I had hoped, some news from my friend.

Upon my arrival I was disappointed to learn from the landlord that he had not yet seen or heard from Holmes and that the preparation of our supper was somewhat behind schedule. Therefore I took myself into the deserted saloon and ordered a pint of ale from the aged bartender. This individual was delighted to learn that I was a doctor and then proceeded to describe to me his various complaints and ailments whilst I patiently sipped at my beer. I was at the point of despair when I was alerted to the familiar smell of strong shag tobacco and at last observed a column of thick smoke rising from behind the back of a high-winged leather chair.

‘I was wondering how long it would take you to become aware of my presence!’ Holmes laughed as I tentatively stole round the side of his chair. He waved me towards a chair opposite his own and another glass of beer awaiting me on the table before it.

‘I see you could not wait for me to join you before beginning your libations,’ Holmes observed as I placed my existing drink on the table next to the new one. ‘However, our supper is still some way off so you should have time to enjoy them both.’

‘Beer, supper, by all means, however, you must inform me at once of the reasons for and the results of your strange disappearance at the station this morning!’ I insisted.

‘I must apologize for that, dear fellow, but I suddenly realized, as we got off the train, that your solitary arrival would draw far less attention than the two of us together. Therefore I decided to continue my journey to the end of the line, which terminates at Shoeburyness. This destination was well suited to my purposes providing, as it does, the last view of the Thames before it flows out into the North Sea. As I stood on that promontory I realized at once that an interested observer would be in a most advantageous position to either confirm, or rebut Lomas’s assertions.