The Improbable Journeys of Billy Battles

Chapter 9

Chapter 9I won’t belabor the details of what happened next.

Potts returned and guided me down, not to the second-class deck,

but to the third-level area near the stern of the ship. Up to this

point, I hadn’t said anything nor had Potts as he led me to an area

of the vessel I had no idea existed. Third class consisted of three

decks—the main deck and two decks of sleeping compartments and

other amenities located below the main deck.

We took a steel staircase down to the main

deck, and as we did, Potts explained that in third-class men,

women, and families were segregated and assigned to separate

sections. Each section contained compartments that were subdivided

into small staterooms. As we passed by the open door of one of

these austere staterooms, I could see that it contained four berths

covered with white slips on top of which were thick gray

blankets.

I expected third class to be much worse. I

had heard horrible stories about how steerage or third-class

passengers were treated on ships with mobs of people crammed into

oppressive dormitories. Apparently, things had improved by 1894—at

least on the China. Nevertheless, unlike the first-class

deck, you could not escape the perpetual shuddering and growling of

the China’s steam engine. Nor could you avoid the pungent

black billows of coal smoke that drifted back to the stern,

polluting the clear sea air.

As we walked along the main deck, I could

see that one end of the hallway opened onto a dining hall. Inside I

could see four rows of six long wooden tables and benches—all

bolted to the floor.

Finally, I couldn’t suppress my curiosity

any longer.

“What’s going on?” I asked as we walked

along the narrow hallway.

Potts pointed to the dining room. “Go on

down ter da dinin’ ’all an’ si’ at one ov da tables… I’ll be there

in a jiff, guvnor.”

With that, Potts knocked on the door of a

small office. A sign on it said “Crew Only.” I watched as a woman

dressed in a gray dress with a white apron opened the door and

ushered Potts inside.

I did as Potts directed and settled at an

empty table. Other tables around me were occupied by a handful of

men playing cards, chess, and checkers. About two tables down from

me, four Chinese passengers were playing Mahjong. I was fascinated

as the players drew and discarded white rectangular tiles, some of

which were adorned with green, blue, and red dots. Others bore

Chinese characters and various symbols and circles.

I watched as the bone tiles were shuffled

facedown. All four players participated in the shuffling while

keeping up a constant stream of vociferous chatter. I couldn’t help

contrasting that noisy game with a game of chess that was underway

on the other side of the room. There, two men barely spoke as they

contemplated their moves.

I was still watching both games with my back

to the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Hello, Mr. Battles.” I turned my head and

stood up. There before me stood a woman dressed in a gray

high-collar dress and white apron. Her hair fell to her shoulders.

She wore no jewelry or any other appurtenances commonly favored by

women. Then she smiled, and my jaw dropped, leaving my mouth wide

open in astonishment.

It was Katharina.

“What…”I began. Then stopped. Potts was

standing nearby, smiling. I looked at him and back at Katharina.

“What…” I started again.

“Please, William, close your mouth,” she

said. “There are lots of flies back here.”

“Yew see, guvenor, I told yew da baroness

didn’t fall in’er da drink awer abandon ship,” Potts said.

The three of us settled at the table, and

Katharina spelled out what was going on. Convinced that Eichel

would dog her all the way to Manila, Katharina decided to

disappear. Where better than in steerage among some 350 passengers.

She explained that she had gone to Captain Kreitz and explained her

situation to him. While he could do nothing about Eichel, he could

assist Katharina by transforming her from a first-class passenger

into one of the fifteen third-class matrons.

The plan unfolded as the ship took on coal

at Nagasaki. That spectacle caught the attention of most of the

ship’s passengers. While just about everybody was watching the

Japanese girls and boys load coal into the bunkers, Katharina and

the chief matron of third-class made their way to the stern of the

ship and down into the main deck. Katharina took only a small bag

with her. Her other things were left in her cabin and eventually

transferred to an empty cabin near Captain Kreitz’s quarters.

When and if Eichel inquired as to

Katharina’s whereabouts, the plan was to tell him she disembarked

in Nagasaki, which would not be unheard of because that city had an

extensive and well-developed international population.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you in on

it,” Katharina said. “Not that I couldn’t trust you, but the fewer

people who knew what was going on, the better. In this case, only

Captain Kreitz and the head matron know. And now you and Mr. Potts

here do.”

With that, she looked at Potts. “My, but you

are a resourceful chap, aren’t you? How did you discover our little

ruse?”

“There ain’t much aboard da China

what I don’t know abaaaht awer can’t sniff out, Baroness,” Potts

said. “She’s me ’ome, after all.”

“I’m afraid I pushed Potts pretty

relentlessly,” I said. “I was damned worried—”

“Why, Mr. Battles,” Katharina interrupted,

“I thought you would be happy to be shot of me and my

problems—isn’t that what you cowboy types say?”

I ignored her sardonic reference to my

Kansas background.

“So what’s next? Are you staying down here

until we dock in Manila?”

“Heavens, no. I plan to disembark in Hong

Kong along with the third-class passengers.”

The plan then was for Katharina to go to the

Hong Kong office of her brother’s company and arrange for passage

to Manila.

“I wonder if Eichel will be so easily duped.

The man is pretty shrewd.”

“How do you know how shrewd he is?”

Katharina’s eyes flashed, and I could see she was irritated. “Have

you met the man?”

I nodded. “I’m afraid so… and he gave me

this.” I produced the typewritten note Eichel had given me and

handed it to Katharina.

She snatched the folded piece of paper from

my hand, opened it, and studied it for a few moments. I watched as

her eyes flew over the words her husband had written to the U.S.

secretary of state.

Then, holding the note, she said, “You don’t

honestly believe this drivel, do you, William? Why, it’s an obvious

forgery.”

“What about the stationery and the baron’s

family crest at the top? And what about the signature?”

“Well, I admit, at first glance, the

letterhead looks authentic enough, but my husband’s signature is a

poor forgery, and the watermark on this paper is not German. It’s

in English, and the stationery is made in America. A very sloppy

attempt at deception.”

With that, she folded the note and returned

it to me. I took it and held it up to the light in search of the

watermark. Sure enough, near the bottom of the note was the paper

manufacturer’s watermark. It was a faint image of a unicorn and

written beneath it was the words “S. Whitney Stationers, San

Francisco.”

It was an awkward moment. My throat

thickened, and I could feel my cheeks burning. I was ashamed that I

had doubted the story Katharina had told me about the death of her

husband. Nevertheless, I felt I had to ask about the allegation of

espionage. And I did.

“I won’t lie to you, William,” Katharina

said. “I do have some very incriminating papers that belonged to my

husband. They lay out a plan by specific German business interests

and government officials to take over and colonize several Asian

countries, including the Philippines.”

“But the Philippines is already is a Spanish

colony.”

“It is… and my brother and a few other

foreigners support a secret organization that is seeking the

overthrow of Spanish rule. However, the last thing they want is to

trade Spain for Germany. There are some in the Philippines who

think Germany might be a good partner as the country moves toward

independence. The documents I have state something quite to the

contrary, and once certain individuals in the Philippines see them,

I am sure the Germans will be no more welcome than the Spanish are

now.

I wasn’t in any position to argue or to

challenge anything Katharina was telling me, so I merely nodded my

acquiescence.

We spent another half hour talking, and I

agreed to leave the SS China in Hong Kong and meet Katharina

at the office of her brother’s company. Her plan was to book

passage on another ship sailing for Manila. As for me, I would

return to the SS China and continue my voyage, which would

require me to change ships in Manila. We still had two more days at

sea before arriving in Hong Kong where there would be a one-day

layover.

In the meantime, Katharina would remain in

third-class disguised as a ship’s matron. When it came time to

disembark, she would do so in a crowd of third-class passengers who

used a gangway near the vessel’s stern, far from the first- and

second-class gangways.

I found myself marveling at Katharina. Even

in the drabbest of clothing with uncombed hair and devoid of any

necklaces, bracelets, or earrings, she projected a stunning

elegance. I sighed to myself and forced my mind to focus on the

matter at hand.

We agreed that Potts would make sure Eichel

learned from reliable sources that Katharina had disembarked

at Nagasaki, thereby diverting him. And that would take care of

him. At least we thought so.

“Do you need anything?” I asked.

Katharina grinned. “Nothing… I am fine here.

Though I would ask Mr. Potts here to make sure my trunks and other

belongings get delivered to this address when we dock in Hong

Kong.”

She handed a slip of paper to Potts along

with a $5 dollar note.

Then she handed me another sheet of paper.

On it was an address for M. K. Trading & Lumber, 165 Austin

Road, Tsim Sha Tsui, Kowloon, Hong Kong.

“You’ll need this to find me in Hong Kong,”

she said.

A few minutes later, Potts and I were on our

way back up to the first-class deck, and I was wondering what was

next in my ongoing adventures with Baroness Schreiber. I didn’t

envy her having to remain in the confined third-class area of the

ship but concluded that was better than having to look over her

shoulder every few minutes to see if Eichel was following her.

The next two days flew by, and on the last

day, I asked Potts to arrange a meeting with Eichel, who, by now,

presumably had been told of the baroness’s departure in Nagasaki.

Once again, Potts led me down the second-class deck and into the

small saloon where I had met previously with Eichel. This time, he

was not waiting for me, and I took a seat at a table facing the

door and ordered a glass of beer.

Eichel walked in about ten minutes later.

The expression on his ruddy face was somewhere between resentment

and resignation. As he neared the table, his mouth twisted into a

scowl, and his eyes tightened.

“Let’s get right to the point,” Eichel said,

pulling a chair away from the table. After he was seated, he leaned

over the table and continued, “Quite a little bit of deception you

and Frau Schreiber carried off. I must congratulate you.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,”

I said.

Eichel was having none of it. “Uh huh. Do

you expect me to believe she would leave the ship without telling

you, her guardian?”

“I had no idea that she had left the ship in

Nagasaki, not until a steward informed me after I had spent the

better part of an afternoon trying to find her. She was under no

obligation to tell me her plans.”

Eichel smirked scornfully. “A likely story.

Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn what you

think. I came here to let you know what I had heard about the

baroness. But you are off your chump if you think I am going to

pocket any more of your blather.” I stood up from the table and

began to walk away.

Eichel grimaced and his head flinched

backward slightly.

“Wait, Mr. Battles.”

“For what? Our business is finished.”

“Not quite.” With that, he produced an

envelope and handed it to me. “Here is a little something for you

to think about. And you will be happy to know that it has nothing

to do with the elusive Baroness Schreiber. Auf Wiedersehen, Mr.

Battles. I am sure we will meet again.”

“Not if I can help it.” I put the envelope

in my coat pocket and walked out of the saloon.

When I got to my cabin, I opened the

envelope. In it, was a handwritten note written on Pinkerton

National Detective Agency stationery and addressed to me. At the

top was a drawing of an open black-and-white eye with the words “We

Never Sleep” written just under it.

“If you are reading this, then you have met

and conversed with Special Agent Oskar Eichel, who, among other

agency obligations, is continuing to investigate the circumstances

of the disappearance of Mr. Nate Bledsoe of Kansas.

“We are convinced, based on our numerous

inquiries, that you have information relating to Mr. Bledsoe’s

disappearance four or five years ago, possibly in the territory of

New Mexico. Even though you denied having any knowledge of Mr.

Bledsoe’s status in our meeting aboard the SS China, we have

it on good authority that you were perhaps the last person to have

any association with Mr. Bledsoe.

“Pinkerton’s interest in this matter is only

to determine once and for all Mr. Bledsoe’s current situation in

order that a family inheritance can be adjudicated. If he is

deceased, then we ask you to provide Agent Eichel the location of

his remains.”

The note was signed: Alfred McCutcheon,

Director, Pinkerton Detective Agency, San Francisco.

The letter was like a hammer blow. I had

assumed I had put Bledsoe behind me when I saw McCutcheon standing

on the dock in San Francisco as the SS China moved away from

the pier. Obviously, I hadn’t. Now I had Eichel to deal with.