"By rights, we shouldn't be here at all." Bryce led the way into the officer's mess, took a bench at a central table and waved the four to sit down opposite, while his crew remained on guard just inside the door. "Chatham Dockyard did have spare berths, but I like the tides there even less than this stretch of the river. We'd have been standing around for hours before we could dock and begin repairs."
"I see." Lestrade slid along the bench to let the others in. "...Not that I'm complaining, but what makes you so willing to hear us out?"
"Couldn't say. Possibly because I don't care for being given orders on my own ship by some jumped-up little copper."
Lestrade opened his mouth to protest, then realised in time that Bryce didn't mean any of them. "Ah." No, Howard had never been noted for his diplomatic skills.
"At least you three haven't been throwing your weight around here – well, not much." Bryce grinned at Lestrade's blush. "Oh, I'm well-acquainted with Staff Sergeant Jackson. The man's a nasty little tick, so I'm more inclined to say 'Bravo' there. Thank you, men, we'll take those here."
A pair of able-seamen with a tray each had halted a few feet away, coming forward to place them on the table when the captain beckoned.
Bryce gestured invitingly to his erstwhile guests. "Coffee, gentlemen?"
"Yes, please!" Wiggins piped up at once. "Black wi' two sugars – if yer please, sir," he added hastily.
"Certainly, young man." Bryce poured out, and handed Wiggins the cup. "The Inspector said your family was kidnapped," he said, in a much gentler voice. "I'm very sorry to hear that."
"Th-Thank yer, sir," the boy stammered, reddening again.
"When did it happen?"
"Yesterday. Me an' Charlie was at Mr. 'Olmes's 'ouse – Mycroft 'Olmes, that is, not the guv'nor..."
"The... guv'nor?"
"He means..." Hopkins began helpfully, but Bryce held up a hand.
"I'd rather hear it from the boy. Go on, Mr. Wiggins."
Wiggins took a fortifying gulp of coffee. "I mean Mr. Sherlock 'Olmes, sir. 'E's our boss, sorter."
"Sherlock Holmes... You don't mean the detective?"
The Irregular brightened. "Ye've 'eard of 'im?"
"He's famous, lad! So you're one of his... helpers?"
"Yeah!" Wiggins said with obvious pride. "Me an' Charlie an' Gil an' Sam an' Billy..."
Lestrade concentrated on pouring coffee for himself and the other three men as the Irregular spouted on, trying hard not to roll his eyes. Someone on this ship was an avid reader of the Strand... but it had to be said: Wiggins's meandering yet consistent account of himself and the other boys, their 'guv'nor' and his latest, most dangerous case, and Moriarty taking all of their loved ones hostage was doing far more to win Bryce's sympathies just now than anything Lestrade and his colleagues could have said. The lad was also taking great care not to mention anything too fantastic under the captain's incisive questioning, repeating Lestrade's earlier explanation that Holmes had unexpectedly left them at Pall Mall to chase down a mysterious lead of his own.
"An' it's all my fault!" Wiggins suddenly wailed. "I knew 'e shouldn' go off alone, an' I still 'elped 'im give the Inspector the slip! An' now 'e's gonna get killed fightin' Moriarty!" He balled his fists into his eyes, a very real watery sniffle escaping. Lestrade could only sit helplessly while Hopkins, sitting nearest, awkwardly patted the boy on the back.
Bryce waited patiently until Wiggins's breath stopped hitching, the captain's slight wince as the boy wiped his face with his coat sleeve confirming Lestrade's growing suspicions that their host had children of his own. "But, lad, why would Mr. Holmes have to fight Moriarty by himself? He couldn't possibly have gotten to the Lady Godiva first, not without doing all the things you and the Inspectors did!"
"Actually..." Lestrade ventured, before Wiggins could react, "I've been thinking about that. Our backup plan, if there was no ship here, was to approach the Coastguard. If Holmes went straight to one of their stations on the river mouth with the few details he did know about the Lady Godiva, he'd probably be able to deduce which of the ships they'd seen passing was the right one. From there, it'd just be a matter of finding a suitable ship for hire..."
Bryce looked at him oddly. "That's a lot of 'if's and 'maybe's, Inspector!"
Gregson snorted. "You wouldn't say that if you knew Holmes, Captain! I won't pretend the man isn't a total... an irritating know-it-all most of the time," he corrected hastily, "but there have been moments when I've wondered if he isn't a bloody clairvoyant! If anyone could get to the Lady Godiva ahead of all of us, it'd be him."
"But... are you seriously saying that Mr. Holmes would be stupid enough to walk right into such an obvious trap, without waiting for any kind of reinforcements?"
"Yes!" three men and a boy chorused in unison.
"Sorry, Captain, we didn't mean to shout," Hopkins added sheepishly. "It's been something of a stressful day for all of us."
"I'm sure it has," Bryce answered slowly, brows knitted. He glanced across at his officers standing at ease, all of them trying very hard to look like they hadn't been listening the whole time... "Mister Crossley, go and see how they're getting on in the galley, please. Our guests look hungry."
"Aye, sir."
"Oh, and while you're there..." The captain reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded paper. "Just throw this bit of rubbish in the fire, will you?"
"Ah, crewman... I'm sorry to interrupt, but have you seen my colleague? The taller one with the fair hair?"
"Oh, I think I saw him on the quarterdeck, sir. I can escort you if you like."
"Thanks, but no, I'll be fine. I won't touch anything important." Lestrade passed along the upper deck towards the stern, where the Royal Navy's colours fluttered gently on the flagstaff. Not long till dawn, now; the ship's lamps were glowing paler as the sky grew lighter, the houses and factories of Woolwich and Silvertown slowly emerging from the dark. Already, the Inspector could hear wheels rattling somewhere in the nearby streets outside the dockyard, probably a dustman's cart.
Gregson was leaning on the railings, staring out over the inky, ruffled water of the basin, but something about his posture told Lestrade that his colleague wasn't admiring the view.
"Coming to breakfast? There's porridge. Not much else, sadly, but at least it isn't hard tack!"
"Or the Yard canteen." Gregson's voice stopped Lestrade cold, he'd never heard his colleague sound so dismal before.
"Gregson? What's wrong?"
"...were right..."
"...What?" No, surely not...
"Don't make me say it again," came the curt response.
All right, maybe he had heard correctly! "Fine, fine... Just for the record, though, right about what?"
"About the bloody letter not working!" Gregson snapped.
"Well, all right, not the way we hoped it would, but..."
"The only reason we're not clapped up in the brig right now is because Wiggins saved all our skins!"
"Bryce was going to help us anyway," Lestrade grinned, "he just wanted us to sweat a bit first. Fair play to the man, we did get him out of bed!"
Gregson eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know?"
"Because, as you're so fond of saying, it's the sort of thing you would have done. Look, you said it yourself, it was a risk – one that paid off, thank God! We'll be heading after the Lady Godiva in less than two hours."
"...Do you really think Holmes is on that ship?"
Lestrade sighed, wishing he wasn't so bloody certain. "Your guess is as good as mine, Gregson."
"That's not a 'no'," Gregson answered grimly, turning to look his colleague straight in the eye. "For God's sake, Lestrade, isn't it time you stopped fooling about? What aren't you telling us? You looked as shifty as hell while Wiggins was talking to Bryce earlier, like you were terrified he was going to blurt something out and ruin our chances. Now, I'm sure you think you've got good reasons for keeping quiet, but in case you hadn't noticed, we're on a Royal Navy gunship! With live rounds and torpedoes! And we're about to head out to sea in pursuit of a much smaller sailing vessel, with a hold full of innocent civilians, who we could potentially blow to kingdom come if Moriarty refuses to surrender! If you know something that might help us to keep that from happening, then for the love of all that's holy, let's hear it!"
Damn... Lestrade bit his lip, then nodded. "Where's Hopkins?"
"With Wiggins, they're getting a tour."
"Well, when they come back, we'd best go and see the captain. There's a lot you three need to know, and I only want to have to say it once. But first... you and I have one final errand in Woolwich."
