1903: Murders at Sea
A Short Mystery Story
Published by PNC Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Nathan Pennington
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1903: Murders at Sea
A Short Mystery Story
Milly screamed.
She screamed and ran out of the room. However, she had thrown the sheets she was carrying, and now they tripped her as she got into the hall.
She sprawled out in the hallway with sheets twisted around her ankles.
She was still screaming. There was a dead body in the cabin room she'd been delivering sheets to.
The dead body was contorted and looked as if the victim had died while writhing in agony.
Milly finally freed herself of the sheets, and leaving them strewn out over the hallway floor, ran to her supervisor's office.
It took her supervisor more than half-an-hour to calm her down and get a cohesive report out of her.
"I tell you, there's a dead body in that room," Milly said finally able to put a complete sentence together.
"Which room?" James, her supervisor, asked.
"213," she said. "The woman in 213 is dead."
This was the second body that had been discovered on the RMS Baltic in the 2 days after it had left Liverpool, England in the summer of 1903. Five more days had to pass before they'd reach New York City.
A killer was loose on the ship, James thought, and they were damned helpless. He would have to report this to the first mate. It was still very early in the morning, but this was important news.
James left Milly with some other staff members and headed to the separate area where the white crewmembers bunked.
At the first mate's room, he knocked.
After a short time, a disheveled-looking man answered the door. He was still tying a robe about himself.
"James?" he said in a scratchy voice.
"Mr. Cameron," James said to the first mate. "We got another murder."
The first mate groaned.
"Yes, sir," James said. "One of my girls found her this morning."
"Who was it?"
"I don't know, but she was found in room 213."
"Did anyone find out about it?"
"Passengers? I don't know," James said. "My girl was screaming and carrying on, so I'd guess someone was bound to hear her."
The first mate groaned again. "Go back down there and see if anyone heard. Fabricate something if you must," he said. "Just don't let the truth of this out."
"Yes, sir," James said.
"Thanks," the first mate said. "I need to talk to the captain."
James left to deal with the situation, and Frank Cameron closed the door to his cramped quarters to prepare himself for the morning and breaking the news to the captain.
He lathered his face with shaving cream and expertly shaved with a straight razor blade. Then he dressed smartly in his navy colored uniform.
Lastly, he splashed a little cold water on his cheeks to make himself look livelier, and he stepped out into the hall.
The hall here was nothing like the hall in the first class traveling section. The hall down in first class was wide, something like four feet across. This one wasn't even two feet wide. If two people had to pass in the crew quarters hallway, they both had to go sideways to slither by.
But this early in the morning, no one else was milling about, and he was able to move unrestricted down the hall.
He knocked at the captain's door, but got no answer. So he moved on to the main dining room. Unlike any other members of staff, the captain was allowed to take his meals in the main dining room with the passengers. Actually, the passengers liked it. There was something special about seeing the captain that enthused them.
He walked down the stairs and into the main dining room. There were only two people in it at this hour. One was a passenger who he'd noted like to rise early, and the captain.
He was musing over two donuts and coffee, his usual breakfast. Frank walked over to him and sat opposite.
The captain looked up. "Good morning, Frank. Up early today?"
"The woman staying in 213 was found dead this morning not even half-an-hour ago."
The captain choked slightly on his donut. "Frank . . ." he trailed off.
"John," the first mate said. "I know I don't have to tell you, but this is the second body found in as many days. This voyage isn't going well."
John, the captain, dunked his donut into his coffee and took a bite of the sopping pastry. "We have to stop this."
Frank sighed. "How?"
The captain finished the donut and then drained the coffee. "I don't know, but we must. We can't pull into New York with an icebox packed with dead people. That will mean our jobs."
"I agree," Frank said. "But I'm at a loss as to what we do about it."
"We'll have to patrol at night."
"We?"
"Make a schedule. Submit it to me before noon," the captain said. "We're going to make a rotating guard on the passenger levels. This insanity has to stop, and it must stop now."
"Aye, aye, sir," Frank said and got up.
Frank submitted a schedule to the captain at 11am, Liverpool time. That afternoon the announcement was made to the crew. No one was happy about it. It meant less sleep and more work, and no additional pay.
Frank himself wasn't happy about it, but what else could be done? The captain was right, if they didn't get control of the situation, it wouldn't bode well for them when they put into port.
Furthermore, if the passengers were to find out, it could be very bad indeed. The newspapers would ruin them with negative press.
That night the watchmen were set up, and Frank went to bed. His watch started at 3am and went until 7am. At 7am his regular work shift started, and it would just be a very long day. A very long day indeed.
He tried to sleep knowing that he needed all the rest he could get, but sleep wouldn't come.
When the knock came on his door at three that morning, he hadn't slept all night and was truly in a foul mood.
He spent the next four hours patrolling the hallways and decks assigned to him, by himself.
Nothing happened, and it was just before 7am when a member of the kitchen staff came running up to him.
"Mr. Cameron, sir!"