Young Sherlock Holmes_ Death Cloud - Andrew Lane [93]
‘But how can the bees find their way across the sea to the mainland, an’ then find their way to the barracks?’ Crowe asked.
‘I’ve been reading about them in my uncle’s library,’ Sherlock replied. ‘Bees are amazing creatures. They can distinguish between hundreds of different scents, at concentrations far far smaller than a human would require, and they can travel for miles in search of the source of those scents. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were possible.’ He paused, remembering. ‘He talked about a Fort. He told his man – Mr Surd – that the bees had to be released from a Fort. Are there any fortifications along this coast, or along the coast of England, that he might be using?’
‘It’s not that kind of fort,’ Matty Arnatt interrupted.
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s forts built out in the English Channel, round Southampton and Portsmouth and the Isle of Wight, like islands,’ he said. ‘They was put there in case Napoleon ever invaded. Most of them are deserted now, cos the invasion never came.’
‘How do you know?’ Virginia asked.
Matty scowled. ‘My dad was stationed on one of them when he was in the Navy. He told me all about them.’
‘So what makes you think Maupertuis is using one of them?’ Sherlock asked.
‘You said as how he hates the British cos of what happened to him. Don’t it make sense that he’d use one of the forts that we built to defend ourselves against the French back against us?’
Crowe nodded. ‘The boy has a point. And although his ship left London a while before Matty an’ me could hire ourselves a boat, they only arrived in Cherbourg just before us. They must’a stopped off at one of those forts to leave the beehives behind.’
‘But there’s loads of them,’ Matty said. ‘We ain’t got time to search them all.’
‘He wouldn’t want the bees to have to fly too far,’ Sherlock pointed out. ‘We’re looking for the fort nearest the coast. And he’d want them to be close to a fair-sized Army base. We need a map of England and the coast, and we need to draw lines between every offshore fort and every British Army base. We’re looking for the shortest line.’ He glanced between Amyus Crowe and Virginia’s amazed faces. ‘Simple geometry,’ he said.
‘What do we do once we’ve found the right fort?’ Matty asked.
‘We could head back to the British coast, send a message to Mycroft Holmes,’ Crowe rumbled. ‘He could send a Royal Navy ship out to the fort.’
‘Too much of a delay,’ Sherlock said, shaking his head. ‘We need to go there ourselves. Now.’
In the end, they did both. The Mrs Eglantine, formerly and soon to be again the Rosie Lee, set out from Cherbourg while Crowe and Sherlock drew lines on maps and identified the most likely fort. When they drew near, several hours later, the sun was heading for the horizon and the English coast was a dark line in the distance.
‘This fishing boat’ll be spotted straight away,’ Crowe pointed out. ‘Even with the sails down the mast’ll be seen, assumin’ they’re keepin’ watch – and if I were them, I would be.’
‘There’s a rowing boat lashed to the side,’ Sherlock said. ‘I spotted it when we boarded. Matty and I can row across to the fort. You keep going to England. Raise the alarm.’
‘How about if I row to the fort and you, Matthew and Ginnie head for the coast?’
‘We can’t sail,’ Sherlock pointed out. His heart was thudding fast within his chest at the thought of what he was volunteering for, but he could see no alternative. ‘And besides, the Admiralty and the War Office will believe you before me.’
‘Logical,’ Crowe conceded reluctantly.
‘Wherever you land,’ Sherlock continued, ‘if you’re near Portsmouth Dockyard, Chatham Dockyard, Deal, Sheerness, Great Yarmouth or Plymouth, there are semaphore stations. If you give them a message they can flash it across country via the chain of