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

not want to get involved in policing gambling on their ships.

Holmes and I stood beside one of the tables for a few moments, watching the four men play their hands. The centre of the table was filled with chips, indicating that the hand was well under way. Holmes tapped me on the shoulder and motioned to a tall man with a thin moustache. As we walked away from the table, my friend said quietly, ‘That man is cheating.’

I looked back in astonishment. ‘What! How do you know? I saw nothing unusual.’

‘He clearly has more cards in his sleeve than he does in his hands.’ Indeed, the man, who later that evening was identified to me as Hugo Brandon, appeared to be winning handsomely.

‘Holmes, we must report this at once!’

‘No, Watson. There is more at stake on this voyage than the gambling losses of a few men. We dare not draw attention to ourselves. However, I will alert Captain Smith to the situation when we meet him tomorrow.’

‘We’ll be meeting the captain?’

‘Yes, more of a courtesy than anything else. He’s been more than helpful in assisting Miss Norton. And as captain, he is responsible for the safety of this ship. He would like to be kept informed on what is happening and who is involved. Mycroft has assured me that the captain is a man of the highest character and can be trusted.’

We walked to the fireplace, where a group of men, some seated and some standing, were involved in a conversation. The fire was crackling, causing the brandy glasses resting on the centre of the table to sparkle. From this closer vantage point, I was able to read the inscription on the painting, Plymouth Harbour.

A young man with a boyish face and an old man with a fluffy white beard were the centre of attention. They were engaged in a lively debate, and the contrast in their styles was striking. The younger man was somewhat formal — forceful in making his point, but careful not to offend. The bearded man was stronger, and much more colourful in his language. By questioning the passenger next to me, I learned that the young man was Thomas Andrews, managing director of Harland & Wolff, the giant ship-building company. Andrews was one of the main designers of the Titanic. He was debating with a very formidable opponent — William Thomas Stead, a journalist and editor, who was travelling to America to address a peace conference at the request of President William Howard Taft.

I was familiar with Stead’s illustrious career. For many years, he had been a crusader for various causes. Perhaps my memory was jogged by our ocean voyage, but I particularly remembered a story he had written about a fictional voyage to the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893. It took place during a trans-Atlantic crossing on the White Star liner Majestic. In it, a clairvoyant passenger had visions of survivors from the wreck of another vessel, which had foundered after striking an iceberg. It concluded with the Majestic rescuing the survivors. Stead had a reputation for investigating psychic phenomena and consulting mediums.

‘Twenty-five years ago — twenty-five years ago, Mr Andrews — I was warning the public about the shortage of lifeboats on these liners,’ Stead said, waving his arms for emphasis. ‘If anything, the problem has become worse, not better. The ships have grown larger and larger, but the number of lifeboats has remained the same. What do you have to say to that?’

Andrews leaned forward and chose his words with deliberation. ‘I would say, Mr Stead, that you have overlooked the enormous progress that has been made in the engineering of large ships, and the important safety features that have been incorporated into the newer vessels, like the Titanic.’

‘Are you saying it is unsinkable, then? I have read about all the boasting that has been going on.’

‘No, of course not. No ship is unsinkable. But I’d go so far as to say that this ship is as close to being unsinkable as any vessel can be.’ Andrews looked at the passengers who were gathered around, wondering perhaps whether they were being shaken by this discussion. Their expressions ranged from interest to outright amusement.

Andrews continued. ‘Let me explain. This ship has sixteen watertight compartments down below — all with doors that can be closed from the bridge. It can remain afloat with any two of the compartments flooded, or any three of the first five flooded. Even in the unlikely event we had a head-on collision and flooded the first four compartments, we still would not sink.’

‘But you did not answer my question,’ said Stead, his voice filled with challenge and impatience. ‘What if one of these big liners does go down, and there are not enough lifeboats for everyone on board. What do you do then?’

‘Well, to begin with, all our liners have a sufficient number of lifeboats to meet Board of Trade...’

‘Board of Trade! Those regulations are archaic. Besides, the Board of Trade is in the pocket of the ship owners.’

‘And even if a serious accident did happen, a modern ship could remain afloat for many hours — perhaps even days — before it went down. In these busy shipping lanes, that is plenty of time to signal another vessel and ferry the passengers over in lifeboats.’

This seemed to reassure the passengers who were listening to the debate, but not Stead.

‘Competition,’ Stead said. ‘That is all it is, competition between the lines. You do not want to take up room on deck with lifeboats, when you can fill it with walkways and amusements for passengers. All you people care about is packing these things with paying customers.’

Andrews rose from his chair, showing anger for the first time. Still, he retained his composure as he spoke.

‘Mr Stead, let me assure you that safety is — and always has been — the first concern of Harland & Wolff. If I were not fully convinced of that, I would not be working for them. Now you may think what you like, but I must ask you not to spread unnecessary fears among the passengers. Wait until you are ashore, then you can write whatever you like in the newspapers. But please do not spend this entire voyage disturbing our guests with your stories.’

Stead took a deep breath and turned away. Andrews, realizing that he would not be getting a reply, wished the others good night and departed.

Stead chuckled and looked to the men who remained gathered around the fire. Some appeared as though they were about to make a graceful exit. ‘You know, I’ve always enjoyed a good argument,’ Stead said. ‘But I keep forgetting that some people do not. I hope he did not take it personally. Well, I will make sure I buy him a friendly drink before we reach New York...unless, of course, the ship sinks first.’

Everyone laughed and was put back at ease. Stead went on to tell a most fascinating fable about an Egyptian mummy, which carried a curse that brought sickness, death and destruction to anyone who possessed it. The Egyptian, Stead postulated, must have suffered greatly before his death, because his image on the sarcophagus carried a look of fear and anguish. The curse continued to this day, despite efforts over the years to exorcize the evil spirit lingering in the Egyptian’s remains.

There was a short silence after Stead finished his story. It was broken by lighthearted comments. Some suggested relatives or business competitors to whom they would like to send the mummy.

Holmes was standing quietly, staring into the fire. I nudged him with my elbow and said, ‘A remarkable story, do you not agree?’

‘Yes, Watson, very enjoyable... Well, my old friend, may I buy you a brandy? We could sit back and discuss old times.’

‘Holmes, you’ve never shown an interest in reminiscing before.’

‘Then, perhaps, it is time that I did. What do you say?’

Holmes was in a rare mood. I could not recall the last time I had seen him so sombre. He was not the type to take ghost stories seriously.

‘I would be delighted. Lead the way, Commodore.’

We sat there for some time and had a most enjoyable conversation — one that brought back many happy memories.

Chapter Six