especially if my parents ever found out. But McKee assured me that my attendance would remain secret, and if anyone did find out, he would support my story that I was there to repay a poker debt. I did end up accepting his wager, as did the two other players at the table, who had lost even more than me.
‘Well, McKee’s luck held out, and on the following Thursday night we found ourselves at a smoky Oxford bar, listening to fiery rhetoric from some highly intelligent speakers. Except for one well-known history teacher, I did not recognize any of them. Yet, within their own circle, they were well regarded and respected. I began to consider my own values and soon concluded that money — while a worthy goal in games of chance — should not be used by the powerful to oppress the weak. Within a fortnight I had decided to join the Marching Together League.
‘After coming down from Oxford I told my father I wanted to take some time to see a bit of the world before entering the bottom rungs of his brokerage business. He seemed disappointed, but agreed to fund my trip as a graduation present. I said I would return in no more than six months, after touring Europe and visiting friends of my father along the way. He wanted this to be a business education, as well as a cultural experience. I felt guilty but deep in my heart I did not consider my acceptance to be an out-and-out lie. After all, I did plan to visit his friends and might, ultimately, decide to return to my father’s business. But, in the meantime, my travels would complete another type of education that began with the Marching Together League. I would make contact with socialist organizations throughout Europe, and look for opportunities to build a stronger alliance.
‘I looked up one of my father’s friends in Paris, but abandoned my business pursuits after this one stop. Instead, I devoted my time to the mission given to me by the league. The money given to me by my father was a more than ample stake to begin a successful career as a card player... Sadly, I never saw or contacted my parents again. I understand that my father died last year. You must understand, gentlemen, I loved my parents. I bear a great burden of guilt. Yet, I could not return to them and explain why I did what I did. They would never have understood.’
‘That’s a fine biographical account,’ said Futrelle, ‘but it does not explain why we are here, bound from hand to foot.’
Brandon, who had come to look somewhat melancholy, quickly regained his earlier enthusiasm. ‘Yes, gentlemen, to the point. As you know, the launching of this ship was greeted with a good deal of trumpeting. In fact, the
‘You mean to sink the
‘Oh, I am very serious. And as for those who will die, well, my burden of guilt will grow immensely. But remember, thousands, even millions die in wars. This one incident will bring us a giant step closer to world socialism.’
‘Brandon, stop this insanity!’ said Futrelle. ‘This ship does not have enough lifeboats. Only a fraction, if any, will be saved. And do not forget, you and your men will die too.’
‘No, no, not if we follow our plan.’ Brandon was pacing back and forth, like a professor before a blackboard. ‘A ship will be waiting for us a mile off the starboard side at around midnight. It has instructions to signal to us, to guide our approach. At 1 am two nitroglycerine charges will be set off by timers. One, in fact, is right here in this hold. Another is elsewhere in the ship.’
I looked around the hold but did not see any signs of a bomb. ‘Give it up, Brandon. Sinking a ship will not further your cause. If anything, the authorities of the world will band together to destroy you and your organization.’
‘And who will tell them that we did it? The two of you will be the first to die. And as to the cause, we have every hope that it will be seen as an accident — an exploding boiler or a collision with an iceberg. We will have to wait and see.’
‘Brandon, I beg of you, give this up now,’ I pleaded. ‘Kill us if you like. There will not be any witnesses. But do not continue with your terrible plan.’
‘Well, Doctor, I am a sporting man. I could kill you both right now. But if the two of you are clever enough, there is a small chance that you could concoct some means of escaping and of warning the captain. As I recall, Mr Futrelle’s Professor Van Dusen was somewhat of an escape artist.’ He pulled a watch from his pocket. ‘It is now just past 4 pm. The charges have been planted and my friends and I must make preparations for our departure. Remember, both charges go off at 1 am... But no more clues. Goodbye, and good luck.’
THE EVENING OF SATURDAY 13 APRIL 1912
Escape is an art that is distinct from the science of deductive reasoning.
Deductive reasoning involves examining factual evidence and, through analysis, reconstructing past events. It is rather like locating the pieces of a puzzle, and then putting them together.
Escape, on the other hand, requires one other thing — an overpowering will to survive. You must truly believe there is a way out, if only you can find it.
Futrelle and I clearly understood the importance of our challenge. The survival of everyone on board the ship depended on our ability to free ourselves and warn the captain. But despite this awesome responsibility, we found ourselves completely perplexed.
Brandon and Swede had taken the lantern with them, leaving us in total darkness. While other holds on the ship had electric lights, I had seen no evidence of a switch or light fixtures in this small chamber. I sat there, attempting to remember everything I had observed during our conversation with Brandon.
We were encased on all sides, above and below, by solid steel. Futrelle, who had been conscious throughout our ordeal, identified our prison as the forward-most cargo hold on the orlop deck, just in front of the hold where the automobiles were stored.
After Brandon and Swede left, we had heard the sound of chains being looped through the handle of the steel door to the adjoining hold. They had not gagged us, since shouting would do us no good. After the shooting, the captain had forbidden entry to the scene of the crime. Only senior officers were allowed in. Brandon cleverly saw this as an opportunity to conceal his activities.
The forward wall also had a covered opening. It was labelled ‘chain locker’. That offered some hope, since the ship’s huge anchor chain was far too large to occupy only one deck. If we could enter the locker, we might be able to climb to a higher level and escape through an unlocked door. Even if we were unable to leave through the opening, we might be able to attract the attention of people on the other side.
The crates lining the walls around us were not labelled. We had no clue as to their contents, though the lack of refrigeration indicated that they were not perishable.
The floor and ceiling both had large hatchways, through which crates and other cargo could be lowered. Unfortunately, both were covered by huge metal plates. The bottom hatch cover was piled high with crates. I suspected that the cover on the upper hatch might be weighted in a similar manner.
I sat shivering on the stack of burlap sacks, struggling to loosen the ropes that bound my hands and feet. Though I could not see Futrelle in the darkness, I could hear rustling and grunting sounds, as he strained his muscles in a tireless effort to regain his freedom.
‘Futrelle, do you think you might be able to free your arms or legs?’
‘Not a chance. If anything, the ropes seem to be getting tighter. Perhaps it is the dampness. How about you?’
‘No, I have the same problem.’
‘Watson, do you think he is really serious about sinking the ship? I did not see any bomb in here.’
‘It could be in one of the crates, or behind one. For the sake of the people on this ship, I think we must assume that he is telling the truth. We must find a way to alert the captain.’
We sat in silence, considering the alternatives. In addition to being bound, we could not move along the floor. Our captors had looped a rope through a hole at the base of a metal stanchion that ran from the floor to the ceiling. The ends of the rope were tied to our wrists. We had only a few feet of slack.
‘Futrelle?’
