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

‘And the sender?’ I asked.

‘Listed as a Mr Robert Smith. That’s undoubtedly a fictitious name, but we should check it against passenger and crew lists. Captain, would you make arrangements for that?’

‘Of course. Do you suspect that this has something to do with the theft?’

‘It is very possible...’ Holmes took a blank piece of paper from Phillips’s desk and scribbled out a brief message. ‘Now, Mr Phillips, would you add these words to Miss Norton’s message and send it immediately?’

Phillips seemed puzzled that his humorous story was taken so seriously. But he followed the commodore’s instructions.

‘I hope you don’t mind my adding a postscript to your message, Miss Norton, but I suspect our friend in London would want to know about this latest development.’

‘No, of course not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Commodore, gentlemen, I’m going to the message desk to see if I can get a description of our Mr Smith.’

‘Good. And with your permission, Captain, I have one more message to send.’ Holmes dashed out a brief note and handed it to Mr Phillips. ‘It is to an associate of my brother in the United States Navy. Perhaps he can help us to identify our Mr Basil.’

‘Very good, Commodore,’ said the captain. ‘I must leave you now for I have a ship to run... Incidentally, you wanted to accompany me on my daily inspection of the ship. We meet at 10 am on the bridge. Be there in full dress uniform. Oh, and Doctor Watson, you are invited too... Come as you are.’ An hour later, Holmes and I were on the bridge with Captain Smith. There were others there as well – the chief engineer, the purser, the assistant purser, the ship’s surgeon and the chief steward. All were in full dress uniform. The captain, wearing two medals on his dark coat, was an impressive figure, indeed.

Holmes had come well prepared for his role as Commodore Winter. He was wearing his Royal Navy dress uniform with no less than four medals – all borrowed, of course. I must admit, I felt a bit out of place in my brown tweed suit. If only I had thought to bring my old army uniform... Well, perhaps not such a good idea after all.

We moved into the captain’s quarters, where each of the officers present delivered a report, based on their inspections of their own areas an hour earlier.

At 10.30 am sharp, we began our inspection of the ship. It was a fascinating journey, taking us through corridors and facilities in first, second and third class. We walked through dining rooms, kitchens and pantries, examining them for cleanliness and, in general, they met the high standards of the White Star Line. We passed through gentlemen’s hairdressers, bakeries and lounges. Except for a few minor infractions, all was ‘shipshape’.

My assignment during this tour was to chat with doctors in each of the ship’s hospitals, asking whether anyone had come in with scratches about the face. While word of the attack on the dowager had been kept from the passengers and most of the crew, Holmes and I had the captain’s permission to conduct a discreet inquiry. Much to our disappointment, we learned nothing from the medical staff.

The inspection moved downwards into the lower decks, where we entered the great storage rooms and cargo holds. The central half of lower deck G was taken up by boiler casings and coal bunkers. This day the captain had elected not to inspect the forward end of the deck, which housed the ship’s post office, third-class berths and quarters for some of the crew. Instead, we descended into the aft section. There were a few second- and third- class cabins in this area, but our tour was limited to the complex network of storage rooms for food and kitchen supplies. The dark solitude of these dimly lit corridors was broken only by the vibrations of the engines below, and the sound of our shoes clanking against the metal floor. And it was cold, very cold, due to the remarkable efficiency of the ship’s refrigeration equipment.

We conducted a random inspection of several storerooms, each isolating a specific type of food. Behind one door we found eggs by the thousand, all in neatly stacked crates. Another nearby room was filled with vegetables, and just along the hall we found bacon, ham and cheese. Two of the larger rooms contained beef, with fish and poultry separated in a smaller chamber. I thought back to our elegantly served meals the previous night, and marvelled at the work of the kitchen staff in serving so many guests.

As I stood by the captain, I expressed my surprise at this incredible volume of food. He nodded, then handed me a sheet of paper from the library of material he carried on the ship. It was a manifest of the ship’s food stores: 75,000 pounds of meat, 11,000 pounds of fish, 1,750 quarts of ice cream, 2,200 pounds of coffee, 36,000 oranges, 6,000 pounds of butter, 1,120 pounds of jams and marmalade...the list went on and on. The passengers on the Titanic were a hungry lot, indeed. In fact, they were also a thirsty lot: 20,000 bottles of beer and stout, 1,500 bottles of wine, 15,000 bottles of mineral water and 850 bottles of spirits.

We walked down yet another stairway onto the orlop deck, where we found even larger refrigerated sections. This was for the huge volume of frozen cargo the Titanic was transporting across the Atlantic. Here, no food was visible, just stack after stack of wooden packing crates.

At this point, the captain dismissed most of his entourage. He invited us to continue, as he and Chief Engineer Joseph Bell inspected the ship’s electrical equipment and engine rooms. As the four of us walked down a narrow corridor, the sound of the ship’s electrical and propulsion equipment became much louder. When the chief engineer opened a watertight door at the far end of the hall, the sound was absolutely thunderous.

The captain drew Holmes and me closer and, in a raised voice, described our surroundings. ‘This is our central electrical station. It is all contained in this watertight compartment, which is sixty-three feet long and twenty-four feet high. We are, as you can see, standing on the upper level. The equipment along this wall is our feeder switchboard. Electricity comes up from the main dynamo through insulated cables below this platform and into the twenty-five black polished slate panels. They contain the fuses, automatic cut-outs and ammeters for controlling the ship’s electrical system.’

I strained to hear the captain’s every word, above the roar of the engines. Holmes, much to my embarrassment, was standing at the side, flicking through the pages of the small notebook he carried in his pocket.

The captain continued, ‘As you know, Doctor, this ship uses a tremendous amount of electrical power. Electric lighting is just part of it. We also use electricity to power deck cranes, engine room winches, passenger lifts, fans, watertight doors, and equipment for kitchens, gymnasiums and workshops.’

The captain, Chief Engineer Bell and I moved over to the rail, which overlooked the huge apparatus on the deck below. Holmes looked up from his notebook, noted our new location and, with a quiet smile, came over to join us.

‘Mr Bell, if you’ll do the honours...’ said the captain, looking at the chief engineer, then nodding in the direction of the lower deck.

‘Yes, sir. Commodore, Doctor Watson, these are our four 400-kilowatt engines and dynamos. They have a combined output of 16,000 amperes at 100 volts.’ The veteran seaman emphasized the next point, with a touch of pride. ‘That exceeds in current the capacity of many central stations in large cities.’

‘Most impressive,’ I said. And it truly was. It was a magnificent engineering achievement.

Holmes nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, most impressive, indeed,’ he said. But I could detect in his voice a note of impatience. After all, this technical presentation was contributing nothing to the recovery of the plans.

‘Captain,’ said Holmes, interrupting the chief engineer as he was about to continue. ‘I must thank you and Mr Bell for this very interesting tour. But, as you know, Doctor Watson and I have a luncheon engagement. Before we leave, however, I am most anxious to see the turbine and reciprocating engines that drive the ship, as well as the boiler rooms.’

‘Forgive me, Commodore, but you won’t find much of interest in those boiler rooms,’ said Bell, restraining his amusement at the commodore’s request. ‘They are quite typical and, I might add, typically dirty. But if you’d like to see the engines...

‘The boiler rooms, too, if you do not object,’ Holmes insisted. ‘In fact, it would be most helpful to my knowledge of the ship’s operations to speak to some of your stokers.’

‘Stokers!’ Bell exclaimed. ‘Those boys only know one thing – how to feed coal into a furnace.’ The chief engineer was clearly insulted. ‘Now, if you want to know about the engines, I know every nut and bolt...’

‘Mr Bell...’ The chief engineer stopped short at the sound of the captain’s voice. ‘Please lead the way to the turbine engine room.’

‘Yes, sir. This way, gentlemen.’

Holding tightly onto the handrail, I followed Bell down a flight of metal steps onto the lower deck of the