CHAPTER NINE
Art and Van Helsing caught two hours of fitful sleep before Seward awoke them for breakfast. After properly dressing, they moved to the first-class reception room, where their meal was served.
They made small talk as they waited for their food, each enjoying the beautiful sun washed room. Around them, other first-class passengers talked, laughed, and ate, each one of them dressed as if they were at a major gala, which, Van Helsing figured, they were. The Titanic was not only a majestic ballroom, so to speak, but it was also filled with some of the most wealthy and influential people on earth. Had he been a young wealthy man, Van Helsing knew that he too would have never been caught dead by his contemporaries without being clad in the finest wear.
The waiter eventually arrived with their meals, and once he was gone, Seward said: “Alright, Art; out with it. What are these ideas?”
Art took a sip of tea. “First of all, we need to start asking people for help. I already know that Doctor Van Helsing wants this kept as discreet as possible, but we’ve been ignoring a valuable pool of resource. We don’t need to make a spectacle of it, all we have to do is calmly and quietly ask around, see if anyone’s seen Dracula. Perhaps we just might learn that he has a favorite spot on the ship. As we were saying earlier, he has most likely been in man form since the day we sanitized his boxes, which means that someone must have seen him.”
Van Helsing, rather to Art’s surprise, nodded agreeably. “You are right; I am not that keen on the idea of involving outsiders in the search, but we’re going to have to start if we want to flush Dracula out. It would greatly help if we could find an artist to draw a likeness of him.”
“Right,” Art smiled, “that would be ideal.”
“What else?”
“I was thinking of enlisting members of the crew in the hunt. The least we can do is ask Smith…”
“Absolutely not,” Van Helsing decreed, shocking Art.
“What? Why?”
“We cannot keep pestering the captain. There is a good chance that he may grow suspicious if we’re constantly asking to go here and do this.”
“But, Doctor, he believes…”
“That flimsy opium story will not stand up to close scrutiny, Arthur. The only reason he accepted that is because your long friendship, but he is not a stupid man; he could easily see our ruse for what it is, if only he looked hard enough…and he will begin to look hard if we keep coming to him and asking for more and more. He is a sea captain, a man of duty and order; he will not stand for shenanigans on his ship.”
“Doctor, you’re not making sense!” Art protested. “I know this man, he trusts me: all I would do is have his men put on alert for…”
“For an opium smuggler,” John said. “They won’t know him for what he really is until it’s too late. I agree with Dr. Van Helsing; it’s not safe, for us or the crew.”
“That’s a risk we’re going to have to take, John,” Art shot back.
“No, it is not,” Van Helsing said, “we are not involving Smith or his men any longer. Just questioning the passengers will bring us to his attention, but that is a risk we can take.”
Before Art could begin to protest again, Captain Smith himself, decked in his Sunday finest, slowly approached the table, his hands clasped behind his back in a dignified manner.
“Good morning, Lord Godalming, gentlemen,” Smith greeted.
Van Helsing nodded, “Good morning, Captain.”
Art and Seward acknowledged Smith in like fashion, Seward finding it impossible to get over what an imposing figure Smith cut. He reminded him, as he did somewhat Art, of General Robert E. Lee, slightly in appearance, but mostly in demeanor. This morning he was wearing dress attire, a white suit, his hat in his hands behind his back.
“How are things on the bridge?” Seward inquired.
“Fair,” Smith said, “we have received a number of ice warnings from other steamers in the area, but otherwise all is well.”
Smith moved languidly around the table and, bending at the waist like a proud tree hunched over by a powerful typhoon, whispered into Lord Godalming’s ear, “No Chinese opium, I hope.”
Lord Godalming forced a chuckle, “No, none of that dreadful stuff, thank God.”
Smith stood, patted Lord Godalming on the back, and once again laced his hands behind his back. “Speaking of God, I hope to see you gentlemen at my worship service. 10:30 in the dining saloon.”
“I hope so too,” Lord Godalming said cautiously, “but we may not be able to.”
“Well, if you can make it, please do,” Smith said, and, without further word, departed.
***
When Art had finally finished his breakfast, the men, by unspoken consent, decided to stroll the boat deck whilst formulating plans against Dracula. The air was nippy, but the warm sun shone brightly down, replacing a great deal of warmth stolen from the day by the wind. The deck today resembled the streets of a city, for so many people had decided to venture out. Fashionably dressed ladies with high umbrellas walked with their beaus in tow, children, laughing and squealing, weaved in and out of the crowd, playing tag and other childhood games. A few ladies even reclined on the wooden deck chairs, reading or talking to their love interests, husbands, mothers, and other close associates.
“Art,” said Van Helsing as they moved along, his cane tapping rhythmically on the deck, “I want you to take first-class, John will take second, and I will take the steerage.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Van Helsing saw Art and John exchange a quick glance.
Probably want me to take the first-class; ‘the old man takes the easiest, he may fall!’
“Okay,” Art and John said almost in chorus.
They walked along in silence for a while, until they reached the portion of the boat deck overlooking the stern and parted ways. Van Helsing stayed at the railing for a moment, one hand resting on the cold steel. Looking over the stern, he saw the massive blue expanse that Titanic had crossed and the white capped waves displaced by her passing. What a tranquil sight, and a humbling one too. The mighty sea was so large, so huge, that a man was made meek to see it all spread out before him like this; it made him feel small, it reminded him of his place in the scheme of things, of who was in charge, that he who made this had also made them.
Somewhere over the breathtaking horizon was England, and beyond that Transylvania.
“Please, Lord,” Van Helsing was suddenly moved to pray. “Help me to be strong, in body and mind, and help me to vanquish this demon that hell has unleashed upon this world.”
Despite the cold and the discomfort of standing in one place too long, Van Helsing went on: “May You smile on us and help us do what is right. Please God, help us and hinder Dracula.”
After a long pause in which he could think of nothing else to add, Van Helsing closed. “In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, who makes me strong in all that I do, amen.”
He stood for a second more and then moved on.