"One of the advantages of being Captain is being able to ask for advice without necessarily having to take it." - James T. Kirk
Chapter 27: "Being Captain"
Lachlan
The wet line in my hands burned as I pulled it in, and I harbored a cold knot of fear in my stomach for the two men on the other end.
It was no small thing to take a ducking in the ocean, for even in may the water was frigid at night, and for a man who did not know how to swim…
There isn't a sailor born who does not fear and respect the sea, but I felt as home in the water as a fish and could not comprehend the panic that seized some men upon entering it.
I had seen it though, seen men lose themselves completely, men as levelheaded as the Doctor.
I pulled harder and shouted at the men assisting me to do so as well.
After what seemed to be a great deal of time the white life-preserver came into view and I was greatly relieved to see the arms clinging tightly to it.
The Doctor had seized the object in a death grip and Holmes was holding onto it one-handed, his other arm around his friend's waist, keeping him steady.
As they drew level with the low deck I let go of the rope, seized hold of the two men and pulled them up through the gap in the railing.
Watson
The cold air hit me like a kick in the stomach as we rose at last from the frigid water. I gasped in shock and began shivering violently, weakening my grip on the life preserver.
Holmes's grip round my waist tightened and he spoke quietly.
"Hold on, old fellow, we're almost there - hang on a bit longer."
I had little choice but to do so and clung to the white flotation for everything I was worth, trying not to notice the black water beneath our feet or the shaking of Holmes's arms as he struggled with the cold and the strain of keeping hold of me and he preserver.
After a time that seemed to stretch too long to be measured I felt a strong hand grip the back of my collar and I was pulled up sharply. My knees hit a flat, wonderfully solid surface and Holmes's arm released me. Without the support of it I fell forward and landed heavily onto the deck, too numb to feel the texture of the wood beneath my cheek, lost to the convulsions that shook me and made my teeth chatter.
Movement was too much effort, cost too much warmth, and for a few moments at least I was contented with the stability of the deck.
Then Holmes's concerned voice sounded beside me, stuttering from the cold.
"W-Watson."
I felt his shaking hands on my shoulders, only to be joined by the strong grip once again, wonderfully warm and solid through my soaked jacket.
"I've got him, Holmes. Look to yourself for a moment."
My friend released me reluctantly and the hands moved to remove my jacket, pulling my freezing arms through the sleeves, placing a heavy blanket round my shoulders.
It was far too cold; my muscles were seizing up, restricting both the shivering and movement. The breeze bit harshly into my ears and face, freezing the skin and my soaked hair on my brow. I tried to curl in on myself to preserve the little warmth I had but the insistent grip and the steady voice would not let me be.
"Doctor…can you hear me? Can't have you going to sleep now, come on."
I turned my head away from the faces and the voices and the lights, if they would just leave me alone I would be all right.
The hands took hold of my shoulders and pulled me up, allowing cold air into the cocoon of warmth I had been trying to maintain. I shivered again and opened my mouth to protest.
My lungs seized the opportunity and I choked as they strove to expel the water I had inhaled. I was lifted to my hands and knees just as the worst bout of coughing so far took hold.
My insides twisted, it felt as though my lungs and ribs were being squeezed, I lost all proportion and sense of space and could only crouch there as nature took its course and what seemed to be gallons of water surged from my already burning throat.
I began to gag and choke as my lungs tried to take in the painfully cold air at the same time, I shook not only with cold now but with my struggle to breathe.
My head spun and I was dimly aware of a voice in my ear and a hand pounding my back soundly.
"Let it out Doctor…good man…they know better'n you what to do…easy…you'll get air soon enough…slow and easy."
Finally it stopped and I gasped in one lungful of air and then another, feeling as though the inside of my chest had been scorched with fire and the outside bruised by an enormous fist. But the flow of air was steady now, and my heart began to slow as the oxygen cleared my head. It was so cold.
One hand patted my back, the other bracing my shoulder. I turned my head to see the concerned blue gaze of Lachlan…and beyond him the white alarmed face of Holmes.
"Are you all right, Doctor?"
I croaked something unintelligible through my raw throat and then nodded in case they had not understood. I was still cold, still shivering. It seemed as though I had never been warm in my entire life…I certainly could not recall what it felt like.
Lachlan smiled shakily, a little pale himself.
"Do you think you can stand? We ought to get you and Mr. Holmes out of these wet clothes with something hot to drink."
I nodded again, not trusting myself not to break out into another bout of coughing and was grateful when Lachlan pulled my arm round his shoulder, helping me to rise.
The movement almost changed my mind, for it brought my skin in contact with my soaked clothing and the freezing air. My shivering grew violent again as my blood rushed through me again returning some feeling. This only made it worse and I tried to sink once again onto the deck.
Lachlan would not let me, but spoke sternly.
"Doctor. If you stay on this deck I have little doubt that you'll be frozen solid in no time at all. And since Holmes has no intention of leaving you, he will be as well. That's hardly fair so you brace up and come with me to where we can get you warm…all right?"
I swallowed as a wave of guilt washed over me, both from my weakness and my panic in the water. It certainly was not fair to Holmes when he had already done more than I could possibly have asked.
I looked back to Holmes where he stood, a blanket wrapped round his shoulders, his dark hair plastered against his head, shivering as I was. He gave me a smile and spoke softly, his voice under control now.
"Go on, Watson…just behind you."
"Right."
I gasped and clenched my jaw against the cold as the sailor steered me toward the companion way, a bracing arm round my shoulders, forging a way through the gathering crowd.
We had not gone far, however, when there was a commotion just ahead of us, and a man in a naval uniform pushed his way forward.
He was younger than Lachlan and clean-shaven, but at the sight of him the midshipman straightened and I believe he would have raised a hand to his hat in salute had he not been supporting me.
"Midshipman," the man snapped in a voice as crisp as his uniform. "What's happened here?"
"Lieutenant," Lachlan returned, his voice cool and calm and far more assured in comparison. "These men were attacked, knocked overboard, and with your permission, Sir, I intended to take them inside."
This to me seemed as though it should be obvious for the Lieutenant to see for himself and from the soft mutter of Holmes just behind us he shared my opinion.
He was not able to express this opinion, however, for at that moment my stomach decided that, like my lungs, it did not enjoy the seawater I had swallowed.
I barely had time to stagger to the railing before I began to retch violently and expel the vile liquid and other bile down into the ocean.
The attack lasted for several long moments and Lachlan's hands braced me the entire time, tense with concern.
When at last it ended I rested my head against the cool metal, feeling weak and dizzy once more, my throat burning. A third hand came to rest on my shoulder and I knew from its light but firm touch that it was Holmes's.
I heard the officer clear his throat somewhere behind me and he spoke again.
"Very well, Midshipman, carry on…I will take charge of the troublemakers. When your charges are feeling well enough then the captain would like a word with all of us in the lounge."
Holmes's hand clenched convulsively and though I could not see his face I knew he was taken aback by this sudden turn…and probably not at all pleased.
Lachlan spoke before he could object, releasing one of my shoulders to salute, "Aye, sir."
The Lieutenant departed and Lachlan pulled my arm round his shoulder again, helping me down the stairs and the hall until we reached the cabins.
Holmes unlocked his with a fumbling hand and disappeared inside, waving off Lachlan's offers of assistance.
"See to Watson."
Lachlan nodded and helped me into my room where I sat heavily onto the bed, grateful that the air was warmer at least.
Lachlan turned to my open trunk, drew out a selection of fresh clothing, and laid it beside me in a pile.
"Thank you," I said, shaking still. He nodded. going to the door.
"I'll be back in a moment," he said, closing it behind him.
I sat for a moment, reveling in the warmth of the room and the blanket round my shoulders; then, motivated by the chill of my still-wet clothes, I began to fumble open my shirt.
It took me a deucedly long time to dress, though I was thankful for Lachlan's tact in not offering to help me. It would have been easier to be sure but would have made me feel quite useless.
The dry clothing felt wonderful against my chill skin and I used the wool blanket that had been round my shoulders to towel dry my hair.
But still there was a lingering chill, and I pulled on not only a fresh jacket but wrapped one of the spare blankets above my bed round my shoulders to replace the other.
The door to my cabin opened and I was overjoyed to see Holmes enter, dressed in dry clothing, his hair combed back; though he was still rather pale and let out a convulsive shiver, giving me a slight smile.
"All right, Watson?"
"B-better." I said, not sure whether to be pleased or ashamed that my friend had practically ceased to shiver.
It did not surprise me in the least of course - Holmes had always been, and would be until the end, the master of his own physical weaknesses.
He nodded, though his eyes continued to probe me, unconvinced. At last he spoke again.
"You did very well, old fellow."
I stared at him in some surprise.
"No, I mean it. I have to admit I never expected you to keep yourself afloat for that long."
"Well thank you very much for that vote of confidence," I replied dryly.
His mouth twitched in a smile.
"I am perfectly serious, old chap. You did very well indeed; I did not reach you until the last; up until then you were preserved through your own efforts."
"I could have drowned you, Holmes, and would have too if I had been more than half-conscious when you got to me!"I exclaimed.
"No, you wouldn't have, Watson."
"Yes, I would - you know how I panic whenever I get in water over my head!" I was heartily ashamed still of my behaviour.
"Yes, I know," he replied, a twinkle coming into his grey eyes as he looked at me, "I learnt that lesson long ago, so I was fully prepared to knock you unconscious there in the water if necessary. Thankfully your admirable self-control negated that rather painful alternative."
I stared at him for a minute and then broke into a badly needed laugh at the very idea of his ever raising a hand to me.
"I should hope you would do it if you had to," I said with a small grin.
"I shall find an opportunity someday, have no doubt," he replied with a mischievous smile, sitting on the bunk beside me and fiddling with the tie and collar about his neck.
I frowned, wondering why he should bother with such things at a time like this.
He noticed my gaze and let out a short laugh. "All for the sake of appearances, Watson. The Captain, I feel, will be more inclined to listen to a well-dressed gentleman than a half-drowned wretch. I shall leave that part up to you."
"I beg your pardon?"
He continued with his mischievous smile, indicating he was only teasing.
"You do look a little under the bar, Watson." he said indicating my no doubt bloodshot eyes and salt-encrusted, stiffening hair.
I nodded and got to my feet, going to the faucet and turning the taps until a cascade of warm water ran out. Then I stuck my head beneath it, washing the salt from my hair and skin, letting it run though my nose and mouth and dispelling the bitter, gagging taste.
I straightened, blinking, my head sufficiently thawed by the downpour, and fumbled blindly for the hand cloth that hung beside the sink.
Someone pressed it into my hand and I dried my face, then looked up to see not Holmes but Lachlan, who smiled and held out a steaming mug toward me.
"I would have thought you'd had enough of swimming for a while, Doctor…but it seems you just can't keep your head out of the water."
Holmes
Watson's shivering had finally stopped by the time we made our way to the lounge, though he was still dreadfully pale beneath his still wet mop of dark hair, and an occasional shudder wracked his frame.
Lachlan strode just in front of us, rather like a guard, his blue eyes probing every shadow we passed. I was profoundly grateful of his stolid presence, for both Watson and I were still quite tired through our efforts.
I relied on him to keep watch and turned my thoughts inward. If I was to convince this captain of the threat against his ship then I would need all my wits about me.
My thoughts were interrupted at last as Lachlan stopped at the door to the lounge and turned back.
"Mr. Holmes…is there anything I should do or say when we get inside? I owe a duty to this man but your orders come first in this matter."
I smiled and shook my head.
"No, Lachlan. This matter may put the Captain off enough without revealing the fact that one of his own men is involved. We would not want to ruin you nautical reputation. I imagine…" - I turned to look at Watson - "…that the good Doctor will delay the publication of this account for the very same reason."
Watson sighed but affirmed this. "Holmes can handle it from here."
The seaman nodded, his face a study in calm.
"Right then." He placed his hand on the door and pushed it open.
The lounge had been emptied of its nighttime revelers and now held a much smaller and official-looking group.
The two men who had attacked us were seated on one of the sofas, their hands cuffed in front of them, and they were flanked by two officers of lower rank whose uniforms much resembled Lachlan's.
The annoying lieutenant stood stiffly in parade rest, his eyes upon a rather stoutly built figure who strode back and forth in front of the captives, his hands clasped behind him.
Upon our entrance he turned and fixed us with an engaging green glare, his black and white pepper brows set in a scowl. His ruffled white hair attested to the fact that he had been roused from sleep. He was clean-shaven and, to adopt Watson's rather colorful habit of description, reminded one of a bulldog with drooping jowls.
At the sight of him our midshipman straightened and adopted a professional quality that was almost foreign to his nature.
"You." The captain barked, pointing a finger at his officer and adding to his canine resemblance, "Lachlan, wasn't it?"
"Aye, sir." Lachlan said smoothly, his face studiously blank.
"The Lieutenant here tells me you saw this entire affair play out…can you tell me just what happened?"
Lachlan shifted his weight onto his right foot, the one nearest me, and I felt a streak of amusement at his silent signal. I nodded slightly and he began to speak.
He outlined briefly the fight and my subsequent rescue of Watson, making it sound as though he had merely been strolling by and had happened to see us.
He also recounted the taking of our captives and reported the loss of the third who had never resurfaced after I had abandoned him for my friend.
The captain listened attentively, though with a rather impatient scowl on his face. When the narrative had finished he turned his gaze upon me and Watson.
"You, sir," he said, fixing me with those green eyes. I met the gaze with my own, unflinching, and though the captain did not look intimidated I think he recognized that I was not a man to be bullied.
"What is your name, sir? And can you tell me why such an outrage has been committed on my ship?"
I took a calming breath, for I had never been good with officials, years of association with Scotland Yard and Lestrade notwithstanding.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and colleague Dr. John Watson. And I rather think these men know more about the matter than we."
The captain's eyebrows rose in recognition of our names, and for once I was inclined to be grateful for Watson's narratives, this would make things a great deal easier.
"Sherlock Holmes." he said slowly.
"You know me."
"I know enough to realize that you do not waste your time on unestablished matters, Mr. Holmes, and also that you have quite a few men who bear you grudges. Are these two…" he gestured to the scowling sailors on the couch. "…merely out for revenge or were they sent to impede you on an investigation?"
"A little of both, Captain. These men, who signed on under your jurisdiction, are in truth the hired thugs of a dangerous man who is currently aboard your ship."
The captain's face fell slightly at this. "On my ship."
"Yes. Dr. Watson…" I gestured to my friend who stood at my shoulder as staunch as ever. "Can attest to the truth of my story…and of course Midshipman Lachlan was a witness to the struggle on deck just now."
The captain sighed and scowled at me. "You know this dangerous individual?"
"We have crossed paths before, but that is not important. What is important is that these men know where he is, and that if you find him then you shall solve the problem of the mysterious illnesses that have to date claimed the lives of 3 of your crew and 1 of your passengers."
At this statement the captain paled outright, for the illnesses had been held in fairly strict confidence until now.
"How do you know about those?"
"It is a rather long story, sir, that I will be happy to tell you…if I might trouble you to allow my companion to sit; Dr. Watson had a bad time in the water as a result of his struggle."
Watson shot me a look of humour and gratitude at the same time, for he did not wish his phobia to be broadcast.
The captain nodded impatiently and waved Watson to a couch before sitting himself.
I drew a cigarette from my pocket and paused before lighting it, looking to the captain. Again he nodded.
I struck a match and began my narrative.
Watson
Holmes began his narrative as I sank gratefully onto the couch. The captain watched him astutely, his hands gripping the arms of his chair.
The account was brief and to the point as was the way with Holmes, who strode back and forth as he spoke, commanding the attention of his audience as well as any master magician revealing a trick.
He gave the essential details of our first encounter with Smith and continued to talk about the 'client' who had appeared in Baker Street and told us of the vanishing ships, our brushes with the unusual fever, our subsequent investigation of the ship, and the deductions we had made so far.
At last he came to a stop in front of the captives and though his words were to the room in general his glare was solely for them.
"And I have little doubt that one of these fellows here can lead us to Smith's cabin, where Dr. Watson I will be more than happy to identify him as a convicted criminal; and where, I am fully confident, you will find his collected cultures of these very unique diseases."
One of the villains shivered at this though his companion only scowled.
For a moment there was silence then the captain rose to his feet and addressed Holmes.
"You are correct as far as my knowledge takes me, Mr. Holmes. I have known about the deterioration of this line for some time; and if you have indeed found the solution than I would be a fool not to listen to you."
The man raised a severe finger and though he was several inches shorter than Holmes he seemed to tower for a moment.
"But if I discover that there is no truth to your words than my reputation will be irreversibly marked. I am placing my trust in you because you strike me as a competent man. Do not give me reason to regret my actions."
Holmes stood completely unaffected by this speech, and met the captain's glare squarely.
"You will not regret it," he said softly and after a moment the captain nodded.
"I don't suppose you would care to dispel the name of your client?"
"I am honor-bound to keep his identity out of this, Captain…a courtesy I extend to all my clients if they wish it."
I felt a laugh rise in my chest at this and was forced to swallow it, schooling my face to sobriety. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lachlan shift slightly.
The captain sighed but did not press the matter.
"Very well, Mr. Holmes, if you will assist me in extracting the information we need from these men than I will help you take this Smith. And then we shall contact Scotland Yard, make for the nearest dock, and you and the Doctor and Mr. Smith will get off of my ship!"