A/N: Here we go, the story is finally picking up speed as we see more of the passengers. Hope you have enjoyed it so far and will keep reading!
III. The Passengers
After some time, the travellers began to return to the ship's interior, whether it be the general room or their own quarters, and Holmes indicated me to do the same.
I assumed Holmes would like to settle into the general room, where he would have the opportunity of observing our companions on close quarters. However, he returned to our cabin without hesitation, and having locked the door behind him, turned to me.
"Well, Watson, what do you think of our fellow passengers?"
"I know too little about them to give you an opinion. So far, only the Russells have introduced themselves, and even though you doubt Mr Russell's motives for the journey, they seem to be a charming and friendly couple. As for the others, I can only say that the fellow boarding before us seemed to be decidedly unfriendly. You don't suppose he is our criminal?"
"As you say, it is too early to draw conclusions, but as of now, unfriendliness is not enough reason for suspicion. I also doubt that the syndicate would send only one person on such an important mission. You asked before what I had said to the sailor who welcomed us – I enquired whether there were any passengers that had come on short notice: There were none; in fact, he told me that a small group of six gentleman had cancelled. This, fortunately, leaves us only the twenty people whose names Mycroft supplied me with, minus the six and ourselves."
"It's twelve altogether then."
"Quite correct. Twelve are fewer than I had feared, and I plan on making good use of that fact."
"Shall we dine, then? Perhaps we could meet more of our companions there."
"Yes, Watson, you should go and have dinner. I shall remain here – there are some things I have to think about, and I shall best do that alone. Try to gather as much information as you possibly can without appearing intrusive – especially as to the motive of their travels. And remember to keep our identity secret."
I took a moment to unpack the necessities and then departed, leaving Holmes behind where he sat on the lower bed, lost in thought.
The dining room seemed curiously empty, having been designed for hundred people and occupied by only eleven. I could see the Russells, seated at a round table and immersed in conversation with two women I had not previously noticed.
The sullen-faced fellow I had thought so unfriendly was dining alone in one corner of the room. Then there were three men, conversing loudly and amiably over some wine.
The remaining two were another couple who seemed uncomfortable in the presence of the other passengers, and occupied a table as far from the others as it was possible, their conversation hushed and subdued. Both of them seemed to be among the oldest people in the room.
"Mr Wilson!" Mrs Russell waved at me.
I joined them at their table.
"Won't you join us for dinner? Those are Ms Susan Farington and her companion, Mrs Charles."
"How do you do?"
We shook hands, and I sat down beside Mr Russell, who readily poured me a glass of wine. "Where is your Dutch companion, Mr Wilson?"
"He is feeling unwell, and apologizes for not being able to come. I am afraid trying to understand a foreign language requires a great deal of concentration, and he tires easily." Holmes had once remarked that I had no gift for acting. I could but hope that, for once, my friend was wrong, and I would pass as believable. Either of these people could belong to the criminal syndicate we had come to investigate, and hearing that Mr Sherlock Holmes and his companion Dr Watson were aboard the Friesland would put ourselves and every other passenger in danger.
"I hear you are travelling to Curaçao on business, Mr Wilson," said Ms Farington. She was a petite woman, her hair extraordinarily thin and of a pale blond. Her face was covered in freckles, and there was a mischievous sparkle in her blue eyes.
"Yes, indeed. And you?"
"Oh, my fiancé has been retained in Calabar on business, and I travel to join him. The Friesland makes a stop there before she travels on to Curaçao. Audrey here has offered to accompany me, as it is unseemly for a lady to travel alone."
"So it is, Madame," agreed her companion. She had a deep, rumbling voice and a withered face, although she seemed to be a good many years younger than Holmes or I. Her hair was bound to a tight knot at the back of her head, and she kept her lids downcast, facing no one but Ms Farington outright.
"Have you been introduced to our fellow travellers yet, Mr Wilson?" asked Mrs Russell.
"No, I have not. Mr Sipkens is a rather solitary fellow, and aside from your good selves, we did not speak to any of the others."
Mr Russell smiled. "It is as well, Mr Wilson. I am afraid our ladies here do love a good piece of gossip."
"I do not mind. I would very much like to learn more about the people with whom I will share such close quarters for a month." It would have been foolish indeed to decline such an offer of information. Gossip it might be, and the truth of it questionable, but I had no doubt that Holmes would find something of use in the information.
"Well, of that sullen fellow in the corner, we know nothing but his name – he is Mr Charles Peterson. The couple over there, the Fones', are returning to Curaçao – they were on holiday in London. As far as I can gather, they are Dutch. And the three gentlemen over there – two brothers, Paul and John Mason, and a colleague, Mr Carter – travel all the way to Curaçao as well, for business, I think."
"Madame, we should retire." Audrey Charles placed a hand firmly on the arm of her protégé.
"Nonsense, Audrey! I think I shall enjoy this wonderful company for a while yet. I have had a lengthy conversation with Mr Carter, Mr Wilson – if you like, I can introduce you, seeing that you are without a companion for the evening."
"Madame..."
"No. There is nothing wrong in having a good time. If you wish to return to our cabin, please do so. I am certain that no harm will come to me in this charming company."
"We will all make sure of that, Mrs Charles," said Mr Russell.
Mrs Charles huffed. "Good-night, Madam."
"Good-night, Audrey." Ms Farington watched her companion go and then turned to us with an apologetic smile. "You must forgive my good Audrey. She is very protective of me, and doesn't like it when I go out alone, lest of all in the company of men other than my fiancé. Are you married, Mr Wilson?"
I must confess, the question caused me to flinch. With Holmes, I had hardly spoken of my bereavement – and indeed, after two years and Holmes's return, which had been such a surprise and joy, the wound had healed somewhat, but I still felt uncomfortable talking about the subject. "I was, Ms Farington, but my wife died in childbirth more than two years ago."
"Oh, how tragic! Did the child..."
"No. It was too early."
"I am very sorry, Mr Wilson. Had I known, I would never have asked."
"You have nothing to apologize for, Ms Farington."
"You are very kind, sir. Well, shall we go and talk to Mr Carter?"
"With pleasure."
As I was introduced, I could see why the ladies had been so fascinated by Mr Carter. He was a thoroughly agreeable gentleman, his manner and expression of such elegance that I could not help but wonder whether it was merely a remarkable act. He was of modest, if neat appearance, his hair slicked back against his scalp, his chin clean-shaven. His eyes were rather small, but he had a habit of smiling so brightly that they appeared to be much larger. Most remarkable, however, was his openness towards others, which inspired trust.
After dinner, he parted from his two travelling companions to join us in the general room, and I found that I had to be on my guard lest I said something which might compromise Holmes's and my disguise. We a had a pleasant evening of amiable and lively conversation, during which I learned nothing which seemed to me to have any bearing upon the case, but which gave me an opportunity to observe my companions for any indication that they were not who they pretended to be. I had no doubt that, had Holmes been with me, he would have been more successful. I could but assume that he believed me, who was not bound by artificial obstacles to conversation, to be in a better position for social interaction.
To my surprise, however, it was late in the evening that Holmes came strolling into the general room, drawing some attention to himself by his appearance alone. His tall and lean form and imposing manner were hard to ignore, and I was determined to draw his attention to us to lessen the sudden tension that had settled over the passengers.
"Stefan! Won't you join us?"
Holmes's head snapped around at the sound of my voice, and he came over to our table, appearing as cold as if he were at Baker Street, facing one of our more irritating clients. I, who could read his mood from his manner, wondered what had rattled him so, but when he sat down on my side, his austere face was illuminated by a smile which did much to relax my companions.
"Good evening," he said, his usually smooth voice rough with a Dutch accent. "James has introduced me?"
Only then did I realise that in my effort to not call him 'Holmes', I had accidentally used his first name, albeit an alias. It might have been unusual for business associates, Holmes, however, did not seem to find anything wrong with it. I was relieved that the mind of my companion and his acting skills were so formidable that he had no difficulty in adapting to the situation my mistake had caused.
"Ah, you must be Mr Sipkens!" cried Mr Carter, his face lighting up with his extraordinary smile. He offered his hand to Holmes, who took it firmly.
"Indeed," Holmes said, his smile thin-lipped and, to my eyes, somewhat sardonic. "You would be...?"
"Mr Charles Carter, my pleasure, sir. Will you join us in our game?" He indicated the cards that lay on the table. We had just finished a game when Holmes had entered.
"Gladly." Holmes leant back in his chair, his eyes darting quickly over our group. His gaze settled on Ms Farington, who was clearly fascinated by my companion.
I have previously remarked that Holmes could be chivalrous with the ladies if it suited his ends, and I have never doubted that, even though he used to refer to me as a ladies' man, he could easily have won many a heart himself if he had desired it. To him, however, such a notion was as foreign as was any emotion that might bias his judgement.
"We have not met, I think, Mevrouw."
Ms Farington blushed slightly as Holmes leant over the table to kiss her hand. "My name is Susan Farington, Mr Sipkens. Why, your companion has understated your command of our language."
"He has? Welnu, James has a gift for understatement." Holmes's eyes sparkled as he settled back down and looked at me. Had it not been for those small signs that it was indeed Mr Sherlock Holmes sitting beside me, I would have believed he was a different man. He had hardly changed his style of dress for our journey, but for wearing a Dutch suit instead of an English one and exchanging his tie for a bow-tie; however, in his manner he seemed to be so foreign to me as if he were a stranger.
I forced myself to smile. "You cannot deny, though, that it is somewhat trying to converse in a foreign language for hours on end. Why, I know I find it difficult to follow your Dutch if we have been speaking it all day!"
While this statement would have caused Holmes to smile only slightly had we been at Baker Street, he now uttered a loud, if short bark of laughter. "You are correct, mijn vriend. Do we play?"
"Yes, of course." Mr Carter, who had been watching my companion intently, but not suspiciously so, began dealing the cards. "You are familiar with the rules, Mr Sipkens?"
"Yes, indeed."
I have to confess, I made no further observations of importance that evening. Holmes's presence alone seemed to have lifted the enormous weight of responsibility from my shoulders, and I could not help being distracted by Holmes's acting. During our game, he continued to charm Ms Farington, which at some time caused me to remark that she was travelling to meet with her fiancé. He, however, continued in the same vein, and I had my doubts if Ms Farington would have voiced a protest on her own behalf.
I thought it remarkable that Holmes shunned any conversation with Mr Carter, amiable as the man was. As the game progressed, Mr Carter became more and more irritated with my companion, and when Holmes did beat him, he rose and left with only a rather gruff good-night.
None of the others, however, did seem to notice.
"You must join us again tomorrow, Mr Sipkens," said Mr Russell. He was, in fact, a rather quiet gentleman, and his wife was only slightly more talkative. They had been content to watch our game and conversation, but there had been no sign that they had not enjoyed the evening.
"Yes, indeed, if I can convince my chaperone to allow me to join you again," said Ms Farington. "I have never had such a wonderful time."
"It would be my pleasure," replied Holmes and bowed exclusively to her. In Dutch, he told me to retire with him.
I nodded. "Good-night to you all."
"Good-night."