Sherlock Holmes: The American Years Read Online Free PDF Page A

metal cover sprang open. He studied the watch’s face, then nodded and announced, “Gentlemans, you will assemble here ready to perform in one hour, fifty-six minutes, and eleven seconds.”
    He jammed his watch in his pocket, turned on his heel, and took his departure.
    Although I had stood for Mother to prepare my suit of dinner clothes, I had never worn this strange black-and-white costume for any extended period of time, nor attempted to perform even the meanest of tasks in it. How strange and uncomfortable it was, with its stiff wing collar, miniature black cravat, satin lapels, and itchy woolen trousers. What in the world is the matter with the male gender that they choose to get themselves up in such impractical outfits!
    The
Great Eastern
’s passengers had already begun filtering into the grand salon when the orchestra assembled, strictly on time per our maestro’s eccentric directions. I found myself seated beside another flautist, a gentleman with round, rose-colored cheeks. I could not tell whether he was prematurely white-haired, amazingly well-preserved, or perhaps was simply the possessor of Scandinavian blood and blond hair so pale as to resemble snow.
    My brother Sherlock, I saw, was immersed in a section of violins, violas, and violoncellos.
Good
, I thought,
there are enough of
them to drown him out. Or may he have the sense to hold his bow a fraction off the strings and avoid making any noise at all!
    Waiters were serving beverages and food to the passengers. The
Great Eastern
is so huge that a virtual barnyard of cattle and poultry is kept on her deck, providing fresh provisions during her voyages.
    Maestro had planned a program that mixed recent works by the great composers of Europe with popular tunes suitable for performance in the music halls of England and America. For some selections only parts of the orchestra were required to perform. Maestro called upon the string section for a new quartet by the young Bohemian musical folklorist Dvoák. This was followed by a full orchestral rendering of an American tune by Luke Schoolcraft. Clearly influenced by what I believe is called “darky music,” this jolly piece, titled “Oh! Dat Watermelon!” was indeed a rouser.
    Between numbers, when I was not busy shuffling the sheets upon my music stand, I scanned the tables of well-dressed diners. For all that the
Great Eastern
had proved a commercial failure as a passenger liner, she had been turned to a number of other uses with far greater success. That she had been refitted for her original purpose was a melancholy matter. Word was that she was to be sold and turned into some sort of commercial showboat, a floating advertisement hoarding, and moored in a resort town, perhaps Brighton or Torquay. This, the greatest ship in the world, which had been visited by Her Majesty herself, and by His Highness the Prince of Wales, on several occasions!
    Still Captain Halpin and his officers maintained the appearance of grand sea sailors. Their uniforms were elaborate, as neatly tailored and sharply pressed as those of any naval officer, theirbuttons sparkling, their decorations looking like the awards granted to the victors of great marine engagements. The captain himself was a portly man, bearded and mustachioed in the manner made popular by the Prince of Wales. He was seen from time to time striding the
Great Eastern
’s deck in company of his wife and three lovely daughters and their great dog, Harold. How I envied those three girls their freedom to be themselves and not play-act at being boys!
    The other diners in the salon were an assortment of well-dressed and well-groomed ladies and gentlemen. A few of them, I surmised, might be emigrants intending to make new lives for themselves in the Western Hemisphere. Canada and Newfoundland sounded attractive to me, especially the former. The United States with its red Indians, its many thousands of black former slaves, and its Irish gangs must be a dangerous and