The Furt The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Titanic Tragedy

‘I suppose we have been spending a lot of time together,’ I said, smiling at the comparison. ‘But even musketeers need to have their own adventures from time to time.’

‘Exactly! And perhaps, after this voyage, you will forget Sherlock Holmes, and go on to write The Adventures of Doctor Watson. Of course, I would be a little offended if I was not included as your faithful companion.’

‘I doubt that the adventures of a retired doctor would draw much interest from the reading public. But, in any event, I would still appreciate the company of such a delightful fellow traveller.’

Miss Storm-Fleming spoke softly. ‘Doctor Watson, you appeared very preoccupied just now, before I came over. Your book did not seem to be holding your attention.’

‘I was reflecting on how much my wife would have enjoyed a cruise on a ship like this. I suppose I feel somewhat guilty about enjoying myself.’

‘We live in a world filled with exciting possibilities, Doctor Watson. But none of us has the time on this Earth to experience all of them. Your wife was married to someone who cared a great deal for her. Can you not be thankful for the happiness you gave her, and leave it at that? You are an author; it is time to write the next chapter in your life.’

‘Your husband was a most fortunate man,’ I said. ‘Have you been able to write the next chapter in your life?’

‘I have begun,’ Miss Storm-Fleming smiled at me, then stared out into the rolling waves of the Atlantic. ‘I do not know how it is going to turn out yet, but that is what makes life interesting. Do you not agree?’

Before I could answer, we were interrupted by a stocky, well-dressed man whom I judged to be in his late forties. His dark, receding hair was combed straight back. Our visitor’s long sideburns came within an inch or two of his full, grey moustache. He showed no signs of discomfort over disturbing our conversation. On the contrary, his firm, impatient manner made it very clear that he expected our immediate attention.

‘Herr Watson! I was told that you are Doctor John Watson. Is this correct?’ While his English was fluent, his accent was decidedly German.

‘Yes, I am Doctor Watson. And who am I addressing?’

‘Good. My name is Hans Von Stern. I wish to consult you on a professional matter. It concerns my wife, Elisabeth.’

‘Is she ill?’

‘No, no, you misunderstand. You have worked for many years with the detective Sherlock Holmes. Correct?’

‘He is a friend of mine, yes. But I am afraid I do not understand you.’

‘Well then, my wife has received a threatening note. I would like you to investigate the matter.’

I laughed quietly to myself and Miss Storm-Fleming, after hesitating for a moment, joined in. I was not surprised to find that Von Stern neither understood nor appreciated my sense of humour.

‘Mr Von Stern, Mr Holmes is the detective. I am simply a doctor. While I have accompanied Holmes on many of his investigations, I have none of his skills.’

‘You underestimate yourself, Doctor. I have read your accounts of Herr Holmes’s adventures. You are a man of great insight and have learned much from your association with your friend.’ Von Stern studied Miss Storm- Fleming for a moment, then shifted his attention back to me. ‘So, will you help me?’

Still amused by the situation, Miss Storm-Fleming ventured, ‘This could be the first Adventure of Doctor Watson. It looks like an opportunity to be your associate has come more quickly than I expected.’

‘Young lady, I do not believe that I have had the pleasure...’

‘Mr Von Stern, this is my friend, Miss Storm-Fleming.’ I added, with a smile, ‘You may speak as freely before her as you would to me.’

‘Very well, then. Here is the note Elisabeth received this morning. It was slipped under our cabin door during the night.’

Von Stern pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. It contained words of various sizes that had been clipped from the headlines of magazines. Only her name had been printed by hand, in pencil.

‘Baroness Von Stern — Your past is known. You will be contacted. Pay or be exposed.’

‘You must show this to the captain at once,’ I said. ‘This is a most serious matter.’

‘No! I will not expose my wife to an official inquiry. Besides, it may be no more than a cruel joke.’

‘Are you a baron?’ asked Miss Storm-Fleming.

‘Yes, that is my title. Now then, Doctor Watson, will you help?’

Von Stern was impatient for answers. I wished that I could introduce him to Holmes. But I knew that would not be possible. ‘Baron Von Stern, do you have any idea what this is all about?’

‘None, Doctor. My wife has no secrets.’

‘Has she received any blackmail notes in the past?’

‘This is the first.’

‘Do you suspect anyone on this ship?’

‘So far, I have recognized no one on board, or on the passenger list... You will help, then?’

‘Baron Von Stern, I do not think that I will be of much assistance, but I will at least give the matter more thought. Where can I reach you?’

‘We are in cabin B10 on the port side of the ship.’

‘Very well, then, I may want to speak to your wife later. Do you mind if I keep this note for a while?’

‘If it will be of any help.’

The baron departed, at least partly satisfied with the limited assistance I had offered. Miss Storm-Fleming watched the baron as he walked away, then turned to me with a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

‘What intrigue!’ she said. ‘Would it not be amazing if we were able to capture a blackmailer and turn him over to the captain? Do they have brigs here on these big ocean liners?’

‘Miss Storm-Fleming, I would not expect too much from this. As the baron said, it could simply be a prank.’

My words of caution did not seem to quell her enthusiasm.

‘I suppose so. But it is an adventure, Doctor Watson. I think that is just what this trip needed — an adventure!’

I laughed. ‘All right, then. I will attempt to provide you with one. But please do not be too disappointed if I am unsuccessful.’

Miss Storm-Fleming and I continued our conversation and had a most enjoyable morning. We hardly noticed as the Titanic entered St George’s Channel on its way to Queenstown. But soon the great ship made a wide port turn, slowed and came to a complete stop near another vessel.

‘Why are we stopping?’ Miss Storm-Fleming asked. ‘We have not yet reached Queenstown.’

‘I believe we are just picking up the pilot to guide us into Cobh Harbour.’

We continued to travel through the harbour until the ship stopped, once again, and lowered its anchor about two miles from shore.

‘One of the crew told me that this stop is likely to take a couple of hours,’ I said. ‘Those two tenders approaching are the America and the Ireland. They’re bringing a hundred or so second- and third-class passengers on board, along with the mail.’

Miss Storm-Fleming and I moved to the rail when the tenders came alongside. There were a few passengers who were making ready to leave the ship. They had experienced the thrill of Titanic’s maiden voyage, without paying the full trans-Atlantic fare. One of the departing passengers was a young man loaded down with photography equipment. I wondered whether he was acting in a professional capacity, or was simply an amateur.

The boarding process was more leisurely than it had been at Cherbourg. There were fewer passengers arriving in the tenders, and the crew had little difficulty directing them to their quarters. And since there were so few, if any, first-class passengers boarding at this stop, there was far less baggage for each individual.

One of the newcomers, carrying his Irish pipes, made his way quickly to the aft of the ship. Soon we heard the sound of lively Irish airs.

‘Look!’ cried Miss Storm-Fleming, suddenly. She was not gazing at the tenders, but at the skies behind the