‘Within a few minutes she was completely engulfed. Our father sat there, transfixed by this most singular navigational decision, and awaited the Alicia’s emergence at the mist’s furthest extremity, which was clearly in his field of vision. Based on her previous rate of knots, he expected this to occur within but a few moments. However, he sat there eagerly consuming his rum for close to half an hour, before realizing, in a state of great agitation, that she must have met with disaster. For she never appeared from the far side of that mist!
‘It was inconceivable that she could have brought herself to a halt within such a short distance. It was equally improbable that she was a victim of a collision, those waters are particularly well charted and have long been deemed as safe from all manner of obstacles. Any second vessel would have been clearly visible, from our father’s vantage point, before having entered the mist from its opposite side. The only remaining explanation was that the hull had been accidentally holed, at a time prior to the Alicia’s encounter with the mist. Yet such was the shape and depth of her hull, for her to have sunk so close to harbour would have meant her being holed before setting off from Leigh. No captain with Richard Johnson’s experience would have allowed that to happen. You see the whole thing is impossible!!’ Lomas suddenly and violently exclaimed. He paused for a moment while he calmed himself by taking deep breaths.
‘I apologize, gentlemen, for my unseemly outburst, but you see, when put like that, my father’s claims do seem to verge towards the fanciful. The accepted version of events, that the Alicia met with a mid-channel collision, is the only one that makes any sense and yet—’
‘Yet you find yourself believing your father, and I shall begin my investigation based on the premise that he was speaking the absolute truth. What action did he take next?’ Holmes asked in his most calming of tones.
‘Bless you, Mr Holmes, for believing in our poor father, although I would not have wondered had you not. Our father now reset his sail and turned his small craft about, towards the Alicia’s last visible position. He had hoped to pick up any survivors, but there was none. No survivors and no bodies! Mr Holmes, there was not even the smallest piece of wreckage to be found. It was as if the ship had never even existed. A vessel of her size cannot just sink without cause or trace. Yet all he could find, despite his diligent efforts, was a small stretch of hauling rope with a most strangely frayed end.
‘Distraught and defeated he set sail for home once more and having reached shore spent the next forty-eight hours drinking himself into a stupor. By the time he had emerged from this word had already been received from Dieppe, the search flotillas been dispatched and had returned empty-handed. As my sister has previously explained, by this time our father’s version of events seemed like the ramblings of a drunken lunatic to the townsfolk, who were feeling such a grievous loss. Mr Holmes, there is nothing more that we can tell you. Can you give us any hope?’ Lomas was now leaning forward expectantly.
‘The case against your father certainly seems to be a strong one,’ Holmes responded gravely. ‘Although the local authorities seemed to be somewhat prejudiced in their refusal to accept the possibility that the Alicia had set sail with a hole in her hull. Assuming that this premise is correct, however, then your case is raised up to an entirely different level altogether! I am equally curious about a haul rope with a frayed end.’ Then, almost talking to himself, Holmes continued quietly: ‘Yes, it is most perplexing, unless …’
‘Unless what, Holmes?’ I queried.
‘Watson! Look at the time!’ Holmes suddenly exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly. ‘We cannot expect these young people to return to the Essex coast at such an hour. I insist that you both stay the night and we shall all journey to Leigh-on Sea together on tomorrow’s first available train.’
‘We could not possibly so impose upon you,’ Lomas objected, having exchanged a glance with his sister.
‘Nonsense! As Watson will assure you, we have endured far less comfortable sleeping arrangements than our own sitting room! I shall have Mrs Hudson make up your beds at once.’
There was not a further word of argument and whilst I was bundled on to the settee, to make way for Miss Lomas, Holmes was more than pleased to take to his favourite chair for the night and vacate his room for her brother. Although my army training allowed me to fall asleep even under the most trying of conditions, what sleep I did take was most fitful. I was disturbed to note that, on each occasion that I awoke, my friend was still seated upright smoking heavily from his pipe, clearly with no inclination to fall asleep himself. During one such moment I interrupted his deep meditation with a softly whispered question.
‘Holmes, clearly you have already formulated a germ of a theory that would not have occurred to another living soul. Whilst I would not expect you to divulge its nature to me at this early stage, I strongly feel that there is an ulterior motive behind your invitation to the Lomases other than mere hospitality. Would you not, at the least, explain to me what that might be?’
Holmes turned slowly towards me, eyeing me quizzically whilst arching one eyebrow. He removed the pipe from his lips before replying in a hushed tone that was barely audible.
‘Your inclination towards cynicism is matched only by your faculty for deduction, friend Watson. However, it is true to say that I am positive that there are certain interested parties in Leigh whom I would much prefer not to have prior notice of our coming. Whilst I am sure the Lomases would not have divulged this fact mischievously, they are, none the less, simple folk who might, inadvertently, have compromised our element of surprise. Now, our Bradshaw indicates an early departure from Fenchurch Street, so I would advise you to sleep rather than indulge in premature speculation.’ Without another word Holmes relit his pipe and returned to his previous pose, leaving me to lull myself back to sleep with the type of idle theorizing that he would have despised.
Our early arrival, at the station the following morning allowed us the time for a light breakfast that Holmes had not permitted us to take at Baker Street. Our young guests seemed somewhat the worse for wear, no doubt a consequence of their unexpected overnight stay and the draining experience of relating their heart-rending tale, so they were extremely glad of this refreshment. There was an anticipatory silence in our carriage throughout the relatively short journey and we had actually arrived at the picturesque fishing village before a single word was spoken.
‘I shall rejoin you by this evening!’ Holmes announced to our complete astonishment. He promptly jumped back on to the train just as it had begun to pull away from the platform.
The Lomases turned to me, dismayed and bemused by Holmes’s unexpected and sudden departure.
‘Does Mr Holmes not now wish to assist us?’ Mildred Lomas breathlessly asked of me.
‘I am sure that that is still his intention,’ I answered emphatically. ‘However, Mr Holmes works to his own methods and, even his most surprising actions will be vindicated by their results.’ Despite this outward display of cheerful optimism, I harboured my own misgivings at Holmes’s infuriatingly enigmatic behaviour. His purpose in remaining on the train was completely beyond me. Surely, I reasoned, the mystery and therefore our investigation began and ended in the delightful, though now tragic, fishing village of Leigh-on-Sea. I briefly studied the schedule of the remainder of our train’s journey, which indicated stops at Chalkwell, Westcliff, Southend, Thorpe Bay and Shoeburyness, yet none of these places suggested anything of interest or significance. Like the Lomases, I was resigned to awaiting Holmes’s return before we could be enlightened as to the purpose of his mysterious departure.