Read Online Steampunk Holmes: Legacy of the Nautilus by P.C. Martin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: P.C. Martin
Tags: Steampunk, sherlock holmes, steampunk clockpunk alternate history fantasy science fiction sf sci fi victorian, sherlock, jules verne, nautilus, sherlock holmes mystery detective montana history tammany marcus daly anaconda mining, verne, steampunk new zealand adventure mystery gadgets mystical ministry of peculiar occurrences, steampunk crime adventure, steampunk sciencefiction fantasy
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reluctant,
“Evening, Cap'n Basil, sir.”
“An' good-evening to you, too, my good man,” replied Holmes briskly in a guttural twang, exhibiting no surprise at the man's address. “Might I beg a table for my friend and myself? I assure you we would be no end grateful to exchange the raw damp of this evening for a few pints of your choice bitter.”
“Right, Cap'n, sir; this way, then.” The massive fellow bowed in a grotesque attempt at ceremoniousness, and shut out the cold air to our backs. While he was thus employed, I turned towards my companion, and suppressed with some difficulty an exclamation of surprise. For in the gas-lit passageway Holmes was utterly unrecognizable as the lean, ascetic consulting detective I knew so well. Indeed, his appearance was so altered, I believe I might have passed him by on the street without knowing him. It was not so much his actual features that were changed, except that he wore a captain's bonnet, a patch slung over one eye, and the neckerchief and collar of a sailor's pea jacket peeped out from his overcoat; his entire manner and bearing had become that of a stern, hardy young sea-captain, confident in his command, lacking neither in courage nor audacity. A pair of shining scuffs completed his nautical outfit to perfection.
Holmes smiled at the astonishment in my eyes, as we followed our guide along a narrow passage of worm-eaten floor planking, and down a disreputable flight of steps. Thus, 'Cap'n Basil' and I entered the subterranean den of mischief known as the Foul Fish and Fowl Club.
* * *
It was a sprawling chamber of enormous dimensions into which we entered, riven at intervals with chest-high walls lined with rich velvet, which served to create an illusion of privacy for the occupants of the tables along the walls. The ceiling was enshrouded in deepest gloom, far beyond the reach of the gas lamps, which, though numerously scattered about the premises, all seemed to have their shutters drawn half-way, so that the atmosphere was dim, and hazy with smoke. My companion led the way down the few steps into the main room, and strolled in a rolling gait towards an untenanted table in a couched and half-curtained recess.
Not wishing to address my companion until he should have occasion to brief me, I sat down nervously, looking about with as nonchalant an air as I could muster, while Holmes settled his coat and mine on a convenient hook in the corner of our recess, and signed for drinks.
When he had settled himself across the table, I ventured a quiet remark.
“Captain Basil, eh? You've been here often, I gather?”
His eye twinkled. “More than once. As I say, the home-brew is particularly fine.” Lowering his voice to the faintest whisper, he said, “We await Mycroft's cue.” Aloud again, he cried, “Ah, here are our drinks! Long life an' health to you, m' dear Finch, and may your tenure here be prosperous!” Following his lead I drained my cup; Holmes sighed contentedly and flicked his fingers for another round. The strong bitter seared my throat pleasantly, and I agreed that the brew of the establishment was decidedly good.
While we waited for another drink, I looked about, wondering when Mycroft would make her appearance, for it was twenty minutes past ten already. My field of vision was somewhat limited by the boundaries of our recess, and the few tables within my sight were mostly untenanted, while some were occupied by individuals or pairs. I speculated whether any of these might prove to be our quarry. Holmes appeared to be thoroughly engrossed his second drink, paying no attention whatsoever to our surroundings. His behavior surprised me, for I had imagined that he would be watchful, intensely on his guard, with every sense acutely tuned in to the scenery about us; how else could he manage to identify and ensnare his prey?
Presently a lady, rather short of stature and wearing a dark veil over her features, passed by our table and disappeared beyond my
“Evening, Cap'n Basil, sir.”
“An' good-evening to you, too, my good man,” replied Holmes briskly in a guttural twang, exhibiting no surprise at the man's address. “Might I beg a table for my friend and myself? I assure you we would be no end grateful to exchange the raw damp of this evening for a few pints of your choice bitter.”
“Right, Cap'n, sir; this way, then.” The massive fellow bowed in a grotesque attempt at ceremoniousness, and shut out the cold air to our backs. While he was thus employed, I turned towards my companion, and suppressed with some difficulty an exclamation of surprise. For in the gas-lit passageway Holmes was utterly unrecognizable as the lean, ascetic consulting detective I knew so well. Indeed, his appearance was so altered, I believe I might have passed him by on the street without knowing him. It was not so much his actual features that were changed, except that he wore a captain's bonnet, a patch slung over one eye, and the neckerchief and collar of a sailor's pea jacket peeped out from his overcoat; his entire manner and bearing had become that of a stern, hardy young sea-captain, confident in his command, lacking neither in courage nor audacity. A pair of shining scuffs completed his nautical outfit to perfection.
Holmes smiled at the astonishment in my eyes, as we followed our guide along a narrow passage of worm-eaten floor planking, and down a disreputable flight of steps. Thus, 'Cap'n Basil' and I entered the subterranean den of mischief known as the Foul Fish and Fowl Club.
* * *
It was a sprawling chamber of enormous dimensions into which we entered, riven at intervals with chest-high walls lined with rich velvet, which served to create an illusion of privacy for the occupants of the tables along the walls. The ceiling was enshrouded in deepest gloom, far beyond the reach of the gas lamps, which, though numerously scattered about the premises, all seemed to have their shutters drawn half-way, so that the atmosphere was dim, and hazy with smoke. My companion led the way down the few steps into the main room, and strolled in a rolling gait towards an untenanted table in a couched and half-curtained recess.
Not wishing to address my companion until he should have occasion to brief me, I sat down nervously, looking about with as nonchalant an air as I could muster, while Holmes settled his coat and mine on a convenient hook in the corner of our recess, and signed for drinks.
When he had settled himself across the table, I ventured a quiet remark.
“Captain Basil, eh? You've been here often, I gather?”
His eye twinkled. “More than once. As I say, the home-brew is particularly fine.” Lowering his voice to the faintest whisper, he said, “We await Mycroft's cue.” Aloud again, he cried, “Ah, here are our drinks! Long life an' health to you, m' dear Finch, and may your tenure here be prosperous!” Following his lead I drained my cup; Holmes sighed contentedly and flicked his fingers for another round. The strong bitter seared my throat pleasantly, and I agreed that the brew of the establishment was decidedly good.
While we waited for another drink, I looked about, wondering when Mycroft would make her appearance, for it was twenty minutes past ten already. My field of vision was somewhat limited by the boundaries of our recess, and the few tables within my sight were mostly untenanted, while some were occupied by individuals or pairs. I speculated whether any of these might prove to be our quarry. Holmes appeared to be thoroughly engrossed his second drink, paying no attention whatsoever to our surroundings. His behavior surprised me, for I had imagined that he would be watchful, intensely on his guard, with every sense acutely tuned in to the scenery about us; how else could he manage to identify and ensnare his prey?
Presently a lady, rather short of stature and wearing a dark veil over her features, passed by our table and disappeared beyond my
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