I rested my aching head on the cool glass of the carriage window and looked outside.
All sorts of rubbish littered the street where the floodwaters had spilled over. Driftwood, old leaves, rags—all were pitched up against the edges of the buildings. People's furniture sat out on their stoops, drying off in the brisk air. Even the sandbags were still up where they'd been piled high to prevent more flooding.
Looking at how much damage the Serpents of Chaos had accomplished with severe rains, I shuddered to think what they would do if they had power over death in their greedy, grasping hands.
As we arrived at the Royal Albert Dock and traveled past miles of docks and quays, cargo containers and pulleys, the Dreadnought came into view. She was larger than any other ship in sight, her hard gray lines etched darkly against the lighter gray sky, all masts and funnels, cabling and turrets. A long, thick-plated, armored beast that towered over everything.
We got out of the admiral's carriage, and he led Grandmother and me toward a gangplank with thick rope rails. There were two sailors posted there, dressed in smart blue uniforms with white piping on the collars and smart sailor hats. At the sight of the admiral, they snapped to attention and saluted. "Sir!"
Their action startled me so badly that I found myself saluting back in reflex—only, I aimed too high and managed to knock my hat clear off my head. It rolled onto the dock, then fluttered along the ground for a second before going over the side into the water.
There was a moment of stunned, embarrassed silence in which I was afraid to even look at Grandmother. Then one of the sailors winked at me. "Don't worry, miss. I'll fetch it for you." He hustled over to the side, fished out the hat, and held it up to me with a flourish.
"Thank you, sir!" I said, taking the soggy hat from him and holding it gingerly between two fingers. I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to do with it now, but it had been very kind of him to save it for me, even if he didn't know how much I loathe hats.
The admiral cleared his throat. "I've brought a couple of visitors with me today, as you can see. I've a mind to give them a tour of the ship."
"But of course, sir. Shall we call for an escort, sir?" the shorter one inquired.
"No, thank you. I can manage." Sopcoate held out his arm for Grandmother. "Do watch your step, Lavinia," he advised.
"I've got it. I'm not infirm, you know."
He winked at her. "I know that very well, madam," he said, his words causing her to blush slightly. And may I just say that old, wrinkled cheeks aren't made for blushing?
I brought up the rear, holding my soggy headgear behind my back, hoping no one would notice. Much.
I suppose visiting a battleship would be a lovely way to spend an afternoon, if one wasn't distracted by the threat of one's father being hauled off to prison. Or by wondering who on earth the Grim Nipper was. Or by worrying whether or not one slippery street urchin had managed to get a most urgent message to the head of a secret organization.
Or if one wasn't accompanied by one's grandmother.
Once we were on board, Admiral Sopcoate dropped us like a hot potato. After introducing us to Captain Bacon, the admiral went off with him to inspect some turbans or some such, and Petty Officer Tipton was in charge of our tour. He gave us a smart salute, and Grandmother leaned down and muttered in my ear, "Now, those are manners. You could learn something from him."
Honestly. Grandmother Throckmorton could ruin an afternoon faster than a bout of influenza. I wondered if she had been born with that skill or had to work at it.
I had to admit, the sheer size of the Dreadnought was awe inspiring. The deck spread out to either side as far as my eye could see, interrupted by turrets and towers and all sorts of lines and cables. Anchor chains as thick as my leg ran the length of the deck.
Tipton caught me taking in the enormity of her. "Over five hundred feet long, she is. And has an eighty-two-foot beam."
I wasn't sure what a beam was, but he was quite proud of it, so I murmured something properly awestruck.
As we continued to wander around the deck, we passed a group of sailors giving a section of the ship a lick of fresh paint.
"See how neat everything is, Theodosia," Grandmother pointed out. "How clean and bright that fresh coat of paint makes everything appear."
So what was her point? Did she want me to paint the museum white? Frankly, all the stark whiteness was quite blinding. It was giving me a headache.
Luckily, Petty Officer Tipton took over from there. "Did the admiral mention to you that the Dreadnought was put together in a year? A marvel of naval engineering, that. And speaking of engineering, the Dreadnought can go three knots faster than any other ship in her class, thanks to her two sets of Parsons turbines."
"Why would men wearing turbans make the ship go faster?" I asked.
Grandmother flushed. "It's turbines, you silly girl. Not turbans."
"Oh," I said in a small voice.
"An easy mistake," Tipton said with a quick wink at me.
Anxious to change the subject, I looked back the way we'd come. Hordes of seamen swarmed busily over the deck. "How many men does it take to run this ship?" I asked.
"Around seven hundred, give or take. Here, this way, please. I'll take you down and show you the gunroom."
He led us over to a narrow door, then down a very steep set of stairs. "Do watch your step, ma'am," he warned, holding out his arm for Grandmother.
"I've got it," she said with a huff of exasperation.
When we reached the lower deck, Tipton showed us to a set of double doors. "The gunroom," he announced. We stepped into a room with a number of tables and chairs, some of them set as if for a fine dinner. There was a gramophone in the corner, but no guns. However, after the turban blunder, I wasn't about to point that out.
We left the gunroom and continued on down the narrow aisle. On either side of us were scores of little doors. One of them stood open, and I saw it led to a tiny, cramped bedroom. "Who sleeps in there?" I asked.
"That's an officer's cabin. In fact, most of these rooms along here are officers' cabins."
"They're awfully small." In truth, they weren't much larger than my little closet at the museum.
"Well, they have to squeeze a lot of them on the ship to house all the men," he explained.
"I suppose they must be small if you have to fit seven hundred of them on the ship," I agreed.
Tipton chuckled. "No, no. Only officers get cabins. The crew just hangs their hammocks wherever they can find space."
"They don't get rooms of their own?"
"Hardly," Tipton said. "They're lucky to get twenty-four inches to themselves."
That seemed rather unfair, if you asked me.
Tipton led us back up the stairs to the upper deck and we emerged at the base of a large tower. As I looked up, I saw that enormous tubes stuck out of the tower. With a jolt, I realized they were the guns. Great big whopping ones.
"Here, have a look at this, will you?" I recognized the admiral's voice but couldn't see him anywhere. Officer Tipton pointed up, and I saw the admiral and Captain Bacon on top of the turret, next to one of the enormous guns.
"Come have a look at this twelve-pounder, why don't you?"
"But how do I get up there?" I asked.
"By the ladder, of course," was Admiral Sopcoate's reply. Officer Tipton pointed to the ladder bolted to the turret, and I glanced questioningly at Grandmother. I wasn't sure she'd look too kindly on my climbing ladders and risking exposing my knickers to the entire crew of the Royal Navy's finest.
Understanding at once the question in my gaze, she nodded. "Go ahead, but keep your knees together and don't dally. Besides, it's a rather short ladder."