The Further Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (11 page)

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 electrical station. We passed two of the four electrical engines, and then stepped through yet another watertight door. The roar of the dynamos was nothing when compared to the almost deafening sound we encountered in the next room. There, we found the ship’s huge turbine engine, tirelessly turning the shaft that rotated the ship’s centre propeller. A crew member stood next to it, squirting oil through an open panel.

‘As you know, the
Titanic
is a triple-screw steamer,’ said Bell. ‘The central propeller is driven by this Parsons low-pressure turbine. Both of the two wing propellers are driven by a set of reciprocating engines, which are in the next compartment down. This combination of engines is relatively new, first used on the
Laurentic.
It allows us to take steam from the reciprocating engines and gain additional power by running it through the low-pressure turbine.’

‘It is enormous!’ I said.

‘Yes, indeed, Doctor Watson,’ Bell replied. ‘The entire turbine unit weighs no less than 420 tons. The rotor is twelve feet in diameter and more than thirteen feet long...’

Holmes took his watch from his coat pocket and checked the time. The captain took this as a signal.

‘Thank you, Mr Bell. Now let us move along to the reciprocating engine room... Gentlemen, I think you will find our next destination even more interesting. It is the heart of the ship’s propulsion system. And there is no one better qualified to describe it than my chief engineer.’

Bell, smiling at this vote of confidence from the captain, again took
the lead, and opened the door to the next compartment. And, without fail, the progression of louder and louder whirring and rumblings of machinery continued. It is difficult to imagine how the upper decks remained so quiet and peaceful. We were now in the rough underside of this floating palace – an area that few passengers were invited to see.

‘Here they are, gentlemen, the reciprocating engines,’ Bell continued. As you can see, there are four of them – two on each side. They are designed to take steam at 215 pounds per square inch – much, much greater than the turbine you just saw. Each cylinder is ninety-seven inches in diameter, and the heaviest cylinder, with liner, weighs fifty tons.’

Three crewmen passed through on their way to the turbine engine room. One had a beard, but it was light brown.

‘Any questions, Commodore, Doctor Watson?’ asked the captain.

Holmes shook his head. His arms were folded in front of him and he was glancing about the room impatiently. I decided that this was not the time to expand my knowledge of nautical engineering.

‘Very well,’ said the captain. ‘Mr Bell, proceed to the Number 1 boiler room.’

The boiler room was much as I had envisaged it. Stokers were lined up shovelling coal from a bin into the fiery open doors of the furnaces. It was hot, sweaty, grimy work. The stokers, covered in coal dust, did their jobs mechanically, perhaps thinking of home, or looking forward to an evening drink with their shipmates before retiring to their bunks. A few, on noticing the captain and chief engineer, firmed up their posture and shovelled more vigorously.

‘This is one of six boiler rooms on the ship,’ Bell said. ‘Together, they contain twenty-four double-ended boilers and five single-ended boilers, designed for a working pressure of 215 pounds. Smoke from the boilers is released through three of the ship’s four funnels. The
aftermost funnel is used strictly for ventilating purposes and releasing chimney smoke from the ship’s galleys. Now, the coal that fires the engines is stored on each side of the ship and fed into cross bunkers that extend across each of the boiler rooms...’

‘Mr Bell, as I mentioned earlier, I would like to talk to some of your stokers,’ said Holmes. ‘Might we proceed into the next boiler room...’

‘What is wrong with the men right here, Commodore? Take old Fred, down there at the end. He has been stoking for White Star Lines now for...’

‘I am sure they are all fine men, but I have a particular type of individual in mind,’ Holmes said, once again leaving the perplexed engineer with an expression of total frustration. ‘Captain, would you mind if Doctor Watson and I continued on alone. I do not want to encroach on any more of your valuable time, or Mr Bell’s.’

‘Very good, Commodore. In fact, it is time that Mr Bell and I rejoined my senior officers and concluded our inspection of the ship. But please take care – I do not have to remind you of the safety hazards below deck.’

‘We will be careful, Captain, and our thanks to you and Mr Bell for this fine tour.’

Captain Smith and Bell departed through the reciprocating engine room, while Holmes and I continued into the No. 2 boiler room. While none of the stokers in the first boiler room had black beards, our luck changed in the second. Two of the men who were shovelling coal had jet-black beards. Holmes and I approached the tallest, most muscular of the two, who appeared to be in his mid-forties.

‘That looks like mighty thirsty work. Can I offer you a sip of brandy?’ Holmes took a flask from his coat pocket and, after removing the cap and taking a swallow, handed it to the tired crewman.

‘Don’t mind if I do, Admiral. Not a bit.’ The stoker took the silver
flask in his big, calloused hand and poured a generous portion down his throat. ‘This coal dust, it just coats your mouth and teeth all day. I don’t mind firin’ my own furnace a little, if you know what I mean.’

‘I do indeed. I am Commodore Giles Winter and this is Doctor Watson. I am doing a little research on the
Titanic
for the Navy. How do you like working on her, Mr...?’

‘Hardwood, Edwin Hardwood. Pleased to meet you... Well, I like the
Titanic
just fine, just fine. The boiler room’s a little less confined, and a whole lot cleaner than on some other ships. But I tell you, the thing I really like is the crew’s quarters. The food’s good and they give you some livin’ space. And the skipper’s good too, real decent sort... Does he know you’re roamin’ around down here? I wouldn’t want you two gettin’ in any trouble.’

‘Oh, no problem at all,’ said Holmes, noticing that the other black-bearded stoker had put down his shovel, and was looking in our direction while mopping his brow. ‘In fact, we just left the captain next door in the aft boiler room. He was giving us a tour and let us continue ahead on our own.’ The stoker smiled and nodded, while taking another drink of brandy. ‘By the way,’ said Holmes, ‘that is quite a handsome beard you have. I was talking to one of your fellow stokers earlier. He had a black beard too and said it took him twenty minutes each day just to wash the coal dust out. Maybe you know him? I do not recall his name but he had fresh scratches on his face...’

Hardwood laughed and took another drink of brandy. ‘That sounds like young Strickley. He said he got them scratches when he fell on a pile of metal scraps. I think he maybe got a little too friendly with one of them girls in steerage he’s always sneakin’ over to see.’