Chapter 17: "Taking the Wind out of His Sails"

Taking the wind out of his sails - Sailing in a manner so as to steal or divert wind from another ship's sails.

Watson

"Watson are you up to a bit of burglaring today?"

At my friend's complacent words the piece of sausage I had been consuming lodged into my throat and I began to choke. Holmes slapped me sharply on the back and I swallowed it.

"W-What?!" I coughed, reaching for my napkin.

"The passenger's list Watson, there is a copy kept in the purser's office. Come come man, I mentioned it only a day ago."

"Yes I remember quite well." I said wiping my mouth and fixing a glare on my friend, who stared innocently at the piece of kidney pie he was endeavoring to spear with his fork.

He met my face passively. "What?"

"Holmes, I understand the urgency in finding Smith, no man alive, save yourself, can comprehend the importance of the thing better than I, but is it really necessary to break into the private records of the ship upon which we are traveling? If we are caught then there is no way Lachlan can help us. He is a minor officer. And what you are contemplating is a serious offence…"

"Watson, Watson, Watson…you talk as if we are going to be caught."

"There is a good chance we shall be. We nearly were the last time. If that man had taken a stronger grip on my ankle - Lestrade got my actual description!"

"Now now Watson. That was different. Unexpected circumstances and all that. How was I to know that the lady in question planned to get her revenge on Milverton the very night we were going to burgle his house?"

This was true, Holmes had planned as well as he could for every contingency, but the event had made me far more weary of breaking the law. Such unseen events could strike again, and a million things could go wrong.

But there was a determination in my friend's gaze and attitude that dictated he could not be turned from his course.

I sighed and set down my fork, giving up all attempts to enjoy the meal like a normal person.

"Alright Holmes…just how are you planning to go about this?"

Holmes laughed and clapped his hands together. "Good man! I knew I could count on you." He laid down his own fork, not that he had eaten much anyway, and scooted his chair closer, dropping his voice in a conspiratorial fashion.

"The most obvious time will be at dinner, by far the busiest for the purser and indeed the entire ship. Your part will be simple Watson."

I sighed, bracing myself for the inevitable. Holmes paused in his explanation and gave me a reproachful look.

I glared, gesturing with my hands as I spoke. "Go on, I'm listening I'm listening."

Holmes snorted but, put his hands together and continued.

"You, my dear Watson, will not play the part of burglar this time but accomplice."

"How so?"

"There is a door at the back of the purser's office, and is kept locked, though it is well within my ability to open. I shall enter through that way and lift the list even as the purser remains…I need only a distraction. And you shall provide that."

"I rather thought it would be something of that sort…what shall it be this time? A lost cufflink? A violent collapse? Perhaps I shall be inexplicably dissatisfied with every meal that has come my way so far on this voyage?"

Holmes shook his head. "Nothing so colorful Watson, you want only to deposit something in the fellow's safe. You will be most insistent upon the matter, and quite unreasonable. He shall, I daresay, find you more than a handful."

I laughed. "You have great faith in my acting abilities all of a sudden…what shall I be depositing?"

Holmes smiled, reached forward and pulled my writing notebook from my jacket pocket…a very old and worn one, which I had had for more than a year already.

I laughed incredulously, but Holmes' expression did not fade. My laughter did.

"You cannot be serious?"

"I assure you Watson I am perfectly serious. You are a known writer and you hold strong suspicions that one of your rivals is after your work. You shall endeavor to convince the purser that your notebook, and your other work's if you have brought them…are important enough to deposit. He will refuse of course, and that will begin the very argument I need."

"And when I am taken away for harassing the purser?"

"You will not be my dear Watson, for I arranged with Lachlan this very morning that he should come by at the correct moment and break up the little affair. He is high enough on the naval hierarchy to deal with an aggravated passenger."

"What does Lachlan think of your breaking into a ship that he has sworn to protect?"

Holmes sat back in his chair. "He was happy to assist, as usual Watson. indeed I believe he has 'bent the law' far more often than either of us have…strictly in a good cause of course."

"Right," I pulled my plate back toward me and doggedly picked up my fork. I would be needing the energy. "How long will you need?"

"Eight minutes, our midshipman has assured me he will stroll by at precisely 7:15, you will approach the purser at 7:05…allow a moment or two for error."

I took another bite of sausage. "That remark inspires confidence."

Holmes laughed again and reached into his coat, pulling out a familiar, small leather case, and showing it to me before stowing it out of sight again.

His infernal lockpicks.

"Never fear Watson, the lock on this door is not a quarter as complicated as the one on Milverton's safe. This operation shall go as smooth as clockwork."

"I hope so." I said reaching for my cup, "I have no desire to spend the remainder of this voyage in confinement."

"After the price of our tickets? Hardly Doctor, the cavalry will come in time."

"I should hardly describe a seaman like Lachlan as just the cavalry. He's more like the entire fleet."

Holmes laughed and went back to spearing his eggs. His mind no doubt turning in anticipation of the events ahead.

Holmes

Watson adjusted his cravat for seemingly the hundredth time, we stood at the head of the steps leading down to the landing, and among other things…the purser's office.

"Not nervous are you Watson?"

My friend shot me a look, both apprehensive and somewhat excited. Though he would never admit it, he enjoyed the thrill and the risk of this particular game as much as I did. No doubt this quality bubbled up from the same obscure location as his pawky humor.

"Of course I am nervous…this scheme is absolutely mad, all your schemes are. You know sometimes I am glad I cannot read what goes on in your mind like you can me. If I ever got a glimpse of what it is that really goes on inside there I would most likely flee in terror and deny any further association with you."

I chuckled slightly, in good spirits despite his negative words. "Why else do you think I am so secretive old fellow. The world is not yet prepared…ah…we have only a minute…are you ready?"

Watson gave his tie one final tug, rolled his shoulder's staunchly and took firm hold on the bundle worn notebooks in his left hand. We had not been short a supply…my friend traveled with five or six of the things just as surely as he traveled with his revolver. And I had to admit that types of objects had proved useful in past incidents.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

I clapped him on the shoulder and we started down the steps, against the general flow of traffic, for most were now heading to dinner. We reached the bottom and I pointed towards the small, halfdoor to our right, already surrounded by patrons.

"There is your target Watson, don't forget to make yourself sufficiently obnoxious. Good luck."

"Be careful of your stitches."

I snorted and stood waiting as Watson thrust his way imprudently through the crowd, and a marvelous cacophony of outraged squawks and objections filled the landing…then I started for the back door.

Watson

The purser, a small, thin man with a ferret-like face, who might have been related to Lestrade, looked up as I barged forward through his clients and raised my voice over the well-dressed man he was currently speaking too.

He adjusted his glasses slightly and peered at me in some apprehension. Holmes had been right, the man was no goliath, in stature or will. Perhaps this would be an easier task than I had first supposed.

"I beg your pardon sir…can I help you?"

He said this in an insulting, sarcastic term but I pretended to take it literally and leaned forward, fixing an indignant scowl on my face and raising my voice to a loud and boisterous pitch…according to Holmes the larger the crowd I attracted the better.

"Yes you can sir! I need to make an urgent deposit into the ship's safe!"

"Very well sir, but there are a great many…"

The patron behind me tried to nudge in and I elbowed him roughly away.

"But you don't understand, this is a matter of the utmost importance. There is no time to lose!"

"I realize that it is an urgent matter sir, but these other gentlemen were here before you."

"I don't think you do realize, my property is in danger!"

"I can hear you perfectly well sir, there is no need to shout." The man said, leaning away slightly. I only leaned further forward.

"Smethles." Said the poor fellow to my right, "Perhaps you had better attend to him and then we can resume our business."

The small crowd murmured in agreement, though there were a few grumbles of cutting the line. I swallowed, this was too passive a reaction, Holmes needed a nearly six more minutes.

The purser sighed, and laid down the pen he had been jotting with. "Very well sir, do you have the object with you?"

"Of course I do! What sort of idiot do you take me for?"

The purser reddened and a vein stood out in his forehead but he went on passively, I prayed fervently that he did not have problems with his blood pressure. For my disturbance would no doubt make them worse.

"Then would you place it on the counter?" He said, and though his words were polite and formal they had a definite edge to them.

I took a bracing breath, trying to keep the heat from my face. It is no small thing for a writer to have his works openly mocked. Holmes had done it quite often enough, and I had no desire for them to be further abused by this snooty little, self-important man. I hoped Holmes appreciated this.

I lifted the pile of notebooks and laid them on the counter with a solid thud, the purser blinked at them, then up at me.

Holmes

I slipped, unnoticed by the crowd as Watson began his tirade, his basso voice raised to an admirable pitch, interspersed with the uneasiness of the crowd and the snooty comments of the purser.

The door was conveniently tucked away in a corner, away from the notice of any man that might travel the narrow hall. This was no doubt meant as a method of protection and further security but in truth only aided the criminal determined to break in by way of the door. I really would have to write a monograph on the more popular methods of burglary. Such a work would aid Scotland Yard admirably, if they ever deigned to refer to it.

I tucked myself in the little alcove that hid the door, and drew out my lockpicks, laying them before me. I examined the lock closely, selected one that looked promising and the tension wrench and slid both into the small slot.

My focus narrowed, to the small brass circle just below the knob, I shifted and moved the small metal tools minutely, feeling for the give or tension that would tell me what I needed to know.

The pick was too large, I selected another and slid it from the leather case, inserting it, shifting it as I had before.

This one was more promising, I could feel the empty space behind it's probing tip, and the cylinder that lay beyond it…but it was too wide, I put it back and selected another.

I had six minutes…I hoped that Watson was holding up allright.

Watson

"I am sorry sir, but the safe is a limited space, it is used for the storage of valuables."

"These are valuable, they are my livelihood."

"Perhaps you could find a nice safe place in your room sir. You must have a case, or a steamer trunk?"

"That is the first place he would look, I tell you the man will stop at nothing to get his hands on my work."

"There are more creative hiding places sir, under your bed, beneath your shirts…in the latrine."

Several people laughed at that, and my face went red without the need of acting.

"I do not appreciate your insolence Smethles." I snapped.

"Well maybe he dosen't exactly appreciate your's either. Let the man get back to his business and you get back to your 'writing' eh?"

That had to be an American, I swear they had to be one of the most blunt and tactless races on the face of the earth. I really had to remember to insist that in future Holmes pick a less personal topic for my part in his little charades.

My watch gave Holmes at least three more minutes, my argument with the purser was failing, I had to prolong it somehow.

I turned to the fellow who was still chortling at the cleverness of his comment. Yes…an American…his ridiculous 'cowboy' moustache proved it.

"And what pray tell do you know of writing sir?"

The fellow looked at the lady friend at his elbow, chuckling, then he looked back at me, sneering. "I know a great deal sir, I'm a reporter for the New York World."

Oh heavens… a newspaperman. At least he did not have a 'western accent'.

"The New York World is a rag." I declared, although in truth I had never read it in my life. "And an insult to the language that we invented…you people are only borrowing it."

The reporter's face went a shade darker and pulled out of his lady's grasp, several members of the crowd, which by this time had grown significantly larger shot out their own comments, the purser's voice rang unheeded over our heads.

I swallowed, hoping I had not gone too far…I was in no mood for fistcuffs.

Holmes

The lock gave way with a satisfying click, and I eased the door open peering about at the small office, the purser was around the corner, leaning heavily over the counter, trying to placate the riotous crowd that Watson had gathered outside my window. Really I did not know why my Boswell complained so, he got all the fun parts of our little charades.

I gathered up my lockpicks and repocketed them, and slipped in through the door

It took only a moment to sneak across the room, behind the boxes and bundle's of possessions, to the desk.

For such a meticulously dressed little man the purser was a horrendous filer. His collection of papers made our reference books at Baker Street look organized.

I rifled through them quickly, listening with amusement as Watson insulted a man just outside the window…had to be an American. They were such a belligerent race, and always handy for a distraction.

Ah…at last my hand fell upon an untidy sheaf of papers that after a moment's examination proved to be the long sought passenger list.

I bundled them up, further scattering the paper's on the desk to cover my theft, hopefully the documents would not be missed until tomorrow…and even then there was a good chance that the purser would believe he had merely misplaced them in this mess.

The purser was still engaged with the crowd. As I watched, the poor man folded his arms on the counter and let his head sink forward into them in his despair.

I hurried back out, shut the door softly behind me and glanced at my watch.

7:14…Lachlan should be along any moment.

Watson

The reporter started for me his fists clenched, I stood my ground wishing that I could glance again at my watch.

Where in heaven's name was Holmes?

The crowd about us was pressing and several of its members hooting and jeering, hoping for a fight, most of the original crowd had slipped away, wanting no part of this mess. To be quite frank I did not either but being the source of it I was obliged to stay.

The American's face was a shade of deep scarlet from my insults and his moustache bristled comically. Rather like caricatures of Wild Bill Hickock that I had seen on various billboards in London. I had little doubt that he intended me harm.

And he might have succeeded, at least to agree, if at that moment, a loud voice boomed over the crowd, and an impressive figure in a black uniform pushed his way forward.

"Alright ladies and gentleman would someone be good enough to tell me what this business is all about so we can settle this civilly?" he said coming to stand between me and my would be attacker, his blue eyes twinkling.

The cavalry indeed!

The American tried to shift around him but Lachlan moved to block him. his hands loose and ready at his sides.

Seeing that he was not going to get to me the American turned his string of verbal abuses and complaints on the midshipman, who remained passive and unmoved. I highly doubted he was listening to a word of the man's tirade.

A hand gripped my arm and a familiar voice whispered in my ear.

"Well done Watson, our work is done, come along."

I snatched up the journal's from the counter, the purser did not take the least notice. And moved to follow my friend as he led me to the back of the crowd and away from it back to the stairs. Then Holmes broke into an outright sprint towards our cabins and I followed, only too glad to hear the raucous noise of the crowd fall away behind me.