The Hidden Man: A Phineas Starblower Adventure (Phineas Starblower Adventures) (17 page)

“Well Captain, Christian here told me about the Discretion and how they needed another pair of hands to watch the engines so I applied.” Dortsmorn’s eyes darted to Wright as he spoke.

Jerard looked at Mr. Wright as well but the man had obviously not noticed. “So you were friends before you signed up? Good show, nice to have a familiar face in a new environment. Well carry on Airshipmen, I shan’t keep you from your duties any longer.” Jerard turned away from the odd pair and dismissed his misgivings. I am just tired and hungry he realized as he heard his stomach growl, distracted, he nearly missed what Nichol’s was saying.

“This is my usual place here. I have speaker grill links to the main technical sections like the power room and the engine rooms proper.” The Chief was saying indicating a well equipped console.

“Oh yes, I see. How do you find that to work out Mr Nichols with the Wolseys up on ‘B’ deck? Any lag in response separating engineer and engines like this?”

“None Sir, the engine room is always manned by at least two of our crew during flight, we have never had a problem yet.” The engineer replied just a touch stiffly.

Jerard nodded. “Very good, now this is obviously the Secondary tiller” he stated taking a grip on the small wheel set before the auxiliary bridge’s main window. “Navigation is there, and am I correct in assuming that that is signals in the corner?”

“Correct Sir.”

“No antechamber room as the main bridge has then?” Phillips commented.

“Not as such, no Sir.” Nichols chuckled. “But there would be room to squeeze in a couple of nice chairs by the observation window if we needed to.”

“So...” Jerard began ironically. “...where does Miss Smythe-Harris sit may one ask?”

Lance looked him in the eye with a smile. “Anywhere she likes Sir, anywhere she likes.”

“Indeed.” Jerard made a final circuit of the room just to make sure he had the placement of the various control stations clear in his mind. He hardly needed to examine them in detail as they were simply cut down versions of the bridge’s more extravagant set up. Besides he wanted to quiz Nichols over the existence of the gun mount somewhere more private. Looking up from the signals desk he announced, “This seems to be in excellent order. Now, Mr. Nichols, how about we allow Mr. Howell to show me his skill with a nice pot of tea?”

Their tea would not be immediately forthcoming however. Upon leaving the aft controls Phillips and Nichols met up with the first of Beardmore’s inspection crews. Despite his desire for some refreshment after their flight Jerard was interested in how they proposed to get the final refit of the auxiliary engine done so swiftly. In return the engineer inspectors from the Beardmore Company had been polite to hear Phillips' initial questions. But it had been quite obvious that they were humoring him and determined to get on with their task as soon as he left them alone.

Poor Lance had looked genuinely torn between his unofficial obligation to show the new captain the ship and talking shop with the other engineers from the factory. In the end it was this that had made up Jerard’s mind. Giving up on the idea of a shared pot of tea with his new number one. He left the Discretion’s master engineer to his work, while he returned to his cabin. It had been a long day, and despite his love of flying he felt the need for something more of a walk than he could on-board the ship. Besides, the base here was bound to have a workers canteen or tea room of sorts.

After collecting his coat Jerard somewhat nervously approached the wall communicator. Toggling the 'speak' button he queried. “Mr Howell. Are you there Sir?”

A moment later the thing buzzed unintelligibly and he realized he still was holding the 'speak' button down. When he released it a partial reply came out of the thing’s grill. “...for the moment. Gotta get to the offices, Miss Tash's orders.”

Gingerly he held down the speak button again. “That’s good Sir, if you perhaps could show me the way there as you go I would be most grateful,” he stated clearly remembering to release the button promptly this time.

“Why? Haven't yer... Oh, oh! Captain Phillips! I didn't realize it was you! Sorry Sir, yes Sir I'll be up in a moment!”

“I'll meet you at the nose hatchway Sir” Phillips said, cutting off the fumbled apology.

“Righto Captain! Sorry about that again Sir.”

“Don't mention it Sir. Phillips out.”

Straightening his cap Jerard ventured back into the companionway and ascended the spiral stair to 'B' deck and the nose access port. Howell wasn't there so he took the time to inspect the nearby landing harpoon array that one of the two Landover brothers had operated earlier. Fully five feet long the brass and steel device was set on a swivel mount next to a pair of neatly spooled hawsers. Against the rear wall a trio of spare harpoon-like missiles were safely racked. Near the thing’s base a high pressure steam line snaked back into the superstructure of the ship and presumably linked to the main boilers Nichols had shown him earlier.

Jerard lifted one of the harpoons and grunted at its weight. Small wonder the burly Landovers drew this duty he thought, as he replaced the evil looking bronze dart on its hooks once more. As he did so he accidentally brushed the bottom of the heavy shaft against the deck. There was a small hiss of steam and the heavy rod seemed to jump off the hook, hitting Jerard a resounding blow and nearly knocking him down. It landed on the metal flooring of the deck with an echo that would have woken the dead. Jerard looked around in embarrassment before bending down to pick up the crazed object.

“Well I’ll be damned.” He muttered as examined the newly extended points from the harpoon’s head. Instead of the one barb the device now had three at its tip. Jerard gently ran his hand down the shaft and discovered a small lever that he felt certain was not there before. When he depressed the lever the two extra points retracted. This is an anchor! A
ground
anchor! He realized. Further exploration revealed a seam and a catch that when rotated allowed him to remove about a foot of the metal cover of the bottom of the harpoon. What was inside shocked Jerard even more. A tiny little Armstrong-Kleine steam engine! The design was intricate, its gears and wheels no bigger than that of a small clock. Attached to the back of the thing was a test tube shaped bottle with brass fittings that appeared to be filled with steam, it was even warm to the touch.

Shaking his head in amazement Jerard put the cover back on the base of the harpoon and carefully hung it back on the rack. Curious he examined the other two harpoons, not touching them of course. The second one in line was even thicker than the first. Tracing the outline of what he now called retractable tips he noticed that this one would not so much pop out as unfurl in a somewhat wider and more spade shaped anchor. He could not imagine what kind soft ground would accept this kind of anchor but he was looking forward to finding out. The third appeared to be a truly nasty bit of kit. The barbs on this one appeared to pop out below the normal harpoon barb and formed a ring of quite long spikes if he was judging correctly from the outlines. Now that thing looks more like a weapon, he thought. If fired with enough force it could probably take out a chunk of stone wall. Jerard’s thoughts turned dark as he imagined what dragging something like that through a battle field would produce.

Shaking loose the ugly mental image he looked back down the hallway for any signs of Mr. Howell. Still no steward, so, determined to explore, he tried the door directly opposite the harpoon bay. Interestingly it was locked.

Reaching for the master key Nichols had handed him earlier, Jerard fitted it into the lock and tried again. This time, the curiously stout door received him and Jerard got yet another shock on this day full of them.

In size and shape this chamber was the twin of the harpoon bay. Complete with a shutter of solid Duralium over a forward port opening. But instead of a second harpoon, there, mounted on a fixed tripod, was an immaculately oiled and polished Maxim machine gun!

Well the Landovers had admitted they were a Maxim crew in the British army. He thought ironically inspecting the fine but deadly piece of machinery. This was obviously not the exact gun the brothers had carried for Sir Robert Napier in Abyssinia he noted. The gun array was securely bolted to sliding track on the deck for one thing and a strange steam canister powered device had been added to the side just above the ammo bin.

Mercifully the war machine was unloaded. But the presence of another much smaller door at the back of the room gave Jerard an idea of where the bullets might be kept.

Such a device was highly illegal to be in civilian hands; even for an industrialist like Mr. Starblower. As he understood things, the man had made his fortune in clothing not armaments so there was no plausible reason Jerard could see for this device to be here at all.

Suddenly deciding to keep his discovery of the gun to himself Phillips exited the chamber and relocked it. It would be interesting to see how long; or if at all, it was before Miss Smythe-Harris mentioned it to him. He thought sourly.

Assuming a nonchalant pose Phillips pretended to examine the exit door in more detail as he waited. At least the controls and layout of that was familiar to him he thought ironically. Footsteps on the Duralium floor plates a moment later alerted him to the approach of the steward.

Turning to face the ramp from the ships main decks Jerard was slightly surprised to see a much smaller figure approaching the docking bay, instead of the heavier set Mr. Howell.

“Mr. Pruette” He acknowledged sketching a small salute to the older man.

“Captain Phillips.” Pruette returned, saluting fully. “Are you going to take a constitutional as well Sir?”

“After a fashion, Mr Howell was going to show me to the airfield administration to present my credentials to the Station Chief. Though I admit it always does you good to stretch after a longer flight.”

Pruette looked away for a second before answering. “Yes Sir, the older I get the more I appreciate the feel of the wind on my face rather than just hearing it rustle against the glass of the windows.” The navigator looked at Phillips directly for a long moment before continuing. “Permission to speak Sir?”

“Of course Mr. Pruette, proceed.” Jerard said as a wave of apprehension pricked down his spine. The man was obviously a stickler for protocol, that much had been obvious in the last few hours. Since he had asked formally for permission to speak then, most likely, this was not going to be to Jerard’s liking.

“Forgive me Captain I am unaware how much you may have been told about the previous Captain of this ship. Captain Mather was my oldest and closest friend. And as such, I only really agreed to join Mr. Starblower’s service at Daniel’s urging. With him gone...”

Oh no, Jerard could see where this was going and interrupted Pruette. “I understand Mr Pruette. I truly do, but Miss Smythe-Harris has need of you for one last mission and....”

Pruette’s eyes sparked and it was his turn to interrupt. “I know my duty Sir!” He snapped but then his face softened, “I...Captain Phillips, please, please accept my apology and allow me to explain.”

“It’s quite all right Sir. Please, go on.”

“Sir, this whole affair couldn’t have come at a worse time for me. Over the last month or so I have been considering my position and was about to hand my resignation to Miss Smythe-Harris, then this foul business came up. I really have no desire to fly anymore, but I couldn't leave the Discretion without a navigator, especially in view of the accident. Also...” the man paused and again found Phillips’ eye. “I didn’t want you to think that I had any personal grievance with you Sir.”

Jerard could understand the older man’s position. A part of him missed his old crew as well and they had only been re-assigned, not slain in a damn fool accident brought on by... No probably best not to share the likelihood of sabotage with the troubled man. At least not now here on the Discretion's ‘doorstep’ as it were. “I appreciate your candor Sir, and I am truly sorry for your loss. We’ll just have to carry on as best we may for a few more days then you can follow your heart Mr. Pruette. Rest assured Sir, I shall take no offense.”

“I appreciate your courtesy Sir.” Pruette stated levelly. “Shall we go down now Captain?” He asked, clearly wishing a retreat from the painful subject.

“I did say I’d wait for Mr. Howell.”

“He might be sometime Sir. Making port even a familiar one like this is a busy time for Jon and his men.”

“Yes I expect so but it would be rude to stand him up at this point, so I’ll wait Sir. You go on if you like.”

“No that’s fine Captain we can all ride the lift together.” Pruette replied before lapsing into an introverted silence.

Mr. Howell was indeed late. But eventually the awkward silence between Phillips and his reluctant navigator was broken by the sight of the slightly out of breath steward dashing up the ramp towards them. One of Howell’s under stewards was following closely behind his chief.

“Sorry I'm late Captain.” Howell gasped as he drew level with Phillips. “Last minute change of plans.”

“Not a problem Sir. I'm grateful you were going downside when you were. Miss Smythe-Harris is understandably occupied at present so I thought I'd stretch my legs and take the Scottish air while I had the chance.” Philips replied as the three of them ascended the slight ramp that led to the nose hatch.

Steward Tanner slipped ahead of the three men and depressed the door’s release catch. With a slight hiss of a pneumatic drive, the nose door slowly lowered to almost touch the receiving ring of the tower. The wind buffeted them all briefly as the hatch opened, causing them to clutch at their hats they stepped onto the landing tower.

“So where was it you wanted to go to Captain?” Howell asked as the lift took them ground wards.

“To whatever passes for Base Administration I suppose. As I was saying to Mr Pruette here, I ought to pay my formal respects to the field chief as the captain of a visiting ship. Then I was going to take a walk around the field for the air.”

Howells eyes twinkled. “And look over the B97 as well maybe?”