Hanson stood as the captain walked through the doorway, followed by Andrews, Miss Norton and myself. Before leaving his cabin, the captain had ordered a search of the ship to find Brandon and his friends.
‘Thank you for coming, Mr Hanson,’ said the captain. ‘Needless to say, this goes far beyond your normal duties.’
‘Anything I can do to help, sir.’
‘Was I correct about your service experience? Are you acquainted with such a device as this?’
‘Well, sir...’ Hanson cleared his throat. ‘I was never what you would call an explosives expert, but I am trained to follow standard procedures for handling ordnance.’
‘But can you defuse this bomb, and another one like it?’ The captain’s voice was calm, but firm. ‘If you are unable to, we will attempt to find someone else. But I do hope that you can, for it is nearly 9.30.’
‘Yes, sir, I think I can...’ Hanson was visibly nervous, but he had courage. ‘No guarantees, mind you. But given the time we have left, I am probably your best chance.’
A thought occurred to me. ‘Captain, could we not simply throw the bomb over the side? It might be safer.’
‘I would not advise it,’ said Hanson, taking command of the situation. ‘Once that thing is wired, it is a hair trigger. It might explode, maybe near some people, while it is being carried to the deck. And besides, it would definitely explode when it hit the water, and probably blow a hole in the side of the ship.’
‘Your point is well made, Hanson,’ said the captain. ‘Proceed.’
Hanson’s eyes widened as he looked at the captain, and then the bomb. It reminded me of the first time I performed surgery. Of course, in that instance, there was only one life at stake.
Hanson rose from the crate, wiped his hands one more time, and approached the bomb. Futrelle and Boxhall backed away to give him room. At that moment, a man in uniform stepped through the door. It was Commodore Giles Winter.
‘Captain,’ he said. ‘I came as soon as I got your message. What
The captain played along with the charade. ‘A bomb, Commodore... planted by anarchists. I am expecting them to be brought before me any moment. But our immediate concern is this bomb...this one, and another planted somewhere on board the ship.’
‘Any progress in finding the second device?’ Holmes said, showing mild concern.
‘Your friend, Miss Norton, is assisting Mr Andrews in a search.’
‘How much time do we have?’
‘One o’clock. I thought it wisest to restrict knowledge of the danger to as few people as possible. We have some sound theories on where the second bomb might be hidden.’
Attention shifted back to Hanson and the explosive device.
‘Do you require any assistance, Mr Hanson?’ asked Boxhall. ‘I have spent a little time with explosives, so if I could be of... ‘
‘No, no thank you, sir. Another set of hands would not do any good. In fact, sir, I think you all would be well advised to leave the room.’
The captain remained silent for a moment. He was not the type of man to seek safety, while a member of his crew was in danger.
‘We all have work to do. Our most important task is to assist Mr Andrews in finding the other bomb... Carry on, Mr Hanson.’
Smith began to herd us towards the door. As the last of us stepped over the threshold, the captain turned towards the electrician.’
‘Mr Hanson,’ he said.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You have our thanks and our prayers.’
‘Thank you, sir. I will report back once I have finished.’
We passed through the next cargo hold and into the post room. There, we saw Andrews and Miss Norton peering over the deck plans, which were laid flat on a sorting table. The post-room crew had gone off duty, and they were alone in the room.
‘Do you have anything to report, Mr Andrews?’ asked the captain.
‘We checked all the positions marked in pencil, and we found nothing.’
‘Do you need any help — search parties...that sort of thing?’
Still studying the plans, Andrews replied, ‘I am hoping that we can reason with them. Assuming Brandon knew what he was doing, it must be strategically placed.’
Holmes slid himself between Andrews and Miss Norton, to gaze at the plans.
‘Let me see,’ said Holmes. ‘Mr Andrews, if I recall correctly, the ship can remain afloat with any two of its sixteen holds flooded. Is that not the case?’
‘Or any three of the first five.’
‘What other factors are important?’ Holmes used the stem of his pipe as a pointer. ‘This first bomb was wedged in a corner between the bulkhead and the hull. Might we expect the second bomb to be placed in a similar position?’
Andrews squeezed in closer to the plans and ran his finger along the length of the ship. ‘It would be the best way of ensuring success, from the anarchists’ point of view, but look here. The coal bunkers are up against the bulkheads throughout the mid-section of the ship. Access would be very difficult in most areas.’ Andrews paused, and looked up at Holmes. ‘Although, igniting the coal dust would tend to amplify the explosion... But no, that is a little far-fetched.’
Holmes walked towards the aft wall, which had a box of parcels in front of it. A canvas was draped over it and tied down at each corner.
‘What about here?’ asked Holmes. ‘According to the plans, there is a coal bunker on the other side of this bulkhead.’
‘You are quite right, Commodore,’ said the captain, walking to Holmes. ‘But as you can see, that box goes all the way up to the hull. There is no room for a bomb.’
‘What about the hold on the port side?’
A baggage locker, locked and filled to capacity,’ said the captain.
‘Commodore Winter may be on to something.’ Andrews abandoned his deck plans and strode rapidly over to the pile of parcels. ‘An explosion here would flood two more compartments. The hull plating is thicker on the other side of the bulkhead, but the exploding coal...’
‘Possible, Mr Andrews, but not very likely,’ the captain replied. ‘This room is secured after the post-room crew goes off duty. After that, there are regular safety checks. There would be no time to come in here, unstack the parcels, plant a bomb and restore everything to its original position.’
‘If they used a bomb like the other one, it would have a twelve-hour timer,’ Boxhall said. ‘They could not set it up for any longer than that.’
‘And the best location would be at deck level,’ Andrews added. ‘An interesting thought, anyway, Commodore.’
‘This canvas has been cut,’ Holmes said. ‘Mind you, I did not say torn. It has been sliced with a knife.’
The captain kneeled down next to Holmes and examined the opening in the thick cloth. He then looked at Holmes, but did not say a word.
Holmes lifted the bottom of the canvas, revealing the end of a parcel. It was wrapped neatly in paper, with the string tied in a bow. The end of the package was stamped in red with the letters ‘WWU’.
‘WWU?’ said the captain, feeling the end of the package. ‘What do you suppose that means? Some university, perhaps?’
‘Workers of the World, Unite!’ shouted Miss Norton. All eyes turned immediately to the young woman, who seemed a little embarrassed by the sudden attention. ‘I mean, I saw that before, somewhere...read it in some magazine, I think.’
‘Very good, Miss Norton!’ said Holmes, smiling. ‘I think we may be on to something. Did you notice that the string is bowed at the end of the parcel? That is a little unusual... I think I will attempt to pull it open to see what happens.’
