by Giles
“I see, pity in a way, I always was fond of the Armstrong-Klein engines Mr. Nichols. If you will excuse for saying so, the stink of the diesel in the modern engines seems almost too high a price to pay for the supposed extra power they provide.”.
“Oh I tend to agree with you Sir, it’s just the mass constraint we have here in an airship, that makes the petrol engines look appealing. I shouldn’t worry for the old ‘A-K’ engine Sir it’ll be powering ground and sea vehicles for years to come. I understand that Mr. Beardmore has a section of his engineers looking into making A-K’s out of lightweight material, just for use in ships like this. Our tail booster engine is one of the first to be built.”
Exiting the electrical room and walking slowly aft. Phillips realized he had seen this section of the ship briefly before. Both men gravely regarded the closed hatchway to the boost engine set in the gangway floor. The site of the fatal sabotage. Not wishing to reopen that particular compartment, just yet, Jerard stepped past it and instead asked Nichols a question.
“I meant to ask you earlier Sir. How long does it take to recharge the boost engine?” Jerard was thinking of how useful the sudden acceleration would be in a war airship.
“Approximately, 8 hours Sir. As long as the Woolsey’s are running.” Nichols explained as they walked. “Captain Mather was fond of just putting a little power through this engine at all times, said it kept it ready for use and prevented drag from the idle fan blades.”
“Yes, yes it would, that’s a brilliant idea. It sounds like I have some large shoes, or should I say this being Starblower & Co ‘boots’ to fill, eh Nichols?” Jerard smiled.
Nichols didn’t return the smile, but instead replied deadpan. “Yes Sir Captain Mather was a fine officer and very knowledgeable about his crew and machinery Sir.”
Jerard read the man’s stiffening manner immediately and returned in a serious voice. “Then it shall be my honor to carry on his traditions Sir. He clearly was a great man, one of Britain's finest captains as he knew his craft and crew and died in an effort to succor them both.” There was a moment’s awkward silence in which Jerard observed the pain in Nichol’s face.
“You speak the truth Sir.”
Clearly the accident was going to remain a touchy subject at best for some time to come... “What were those two doors just in front of the hatch by the way?” Jerard asked trying to change the topic once more.
Nichols turned back to look at Jerard. “Oh, sorry Sir. Those are the crewmen’s quarters. There are three sets of rooms on each side, connected by a small hallway. Did you want to see them Sir?”
“Oh, no, that’s fine. I was just curious is all, carry on.”
Nichols nodded and turned to face aft again. “These two large doors on either side of me are the cargo bays. We’re not carrying much now, just supplies. This next set of four doors all lead to the vehicle bays.”
“The what?” Jerard said, he was not sure he heard the man correctly.
“Vehicle bays Sir.” It appeared that Mr. Nichols was trying hard not to smile. He tapped one of the doors and said, “There are a pair of motorcycles in this one and…” Nichols tapped the next door. “This one contains Miss Tash’s motorcycle and side car. The two on that side contain Mr. Starblower’s special toys for his African trip.”
“And what, may I ask, are those Mr. Nichols or it is another of our mysterious employer’s secrets?” Jerard asked amused by the man’s choice of phrase.
“One contains a horseless carriage Sir…” Nichols said sharing a wry grin with his captain, “…made entirely out of duralium like the ship herself. The second there contains a cart that you can hitch up to it that contains a micro still as well as field tents for a small expeditions. Only used it the once, that I know of, during a trip to the Ivory Coast. Airshipman Collins said they were chopping up bits of tree bark towards the end to make enough fuel to get back to where they had left the Discretion. It’s quite a story, you’ll have to let Collins tell you about it.”
“Well I’m blessed!” Jerard exclaimed “I have never heard of such a thing. I mean yes an airship this size should have the free weight for it but...” He trailed off quite stunned at the luxury of it all. Regaining his composure he looked at Nichols and added. “I can see this is a very different type of craft to my old Vickers 234.”
“Yes indeed Captain, she’s twice as long and only two thirds as fast as those little darlings, as I am sure you have observed.” The chief engineer replied wryly.
Jerard realized that Nichols seemed a little pleased that the scope of the Discretion was finally beginning to rattle him. But honestly, who wouldn’t be a little rattled? Jerard was confident that there was nothing else in the air quite like the Discretion, nor on the ground for that matter! He made a mental note to try to keep his surprise under check from here on out.
“Not quite true Mr. Nichols,” he contradicted mildly. “You say with the booster engine we can hit over 70 knots? That’s about the same cruise speed of a Vickers.”
“Well yes, but that’d have to be straight line movement. I’d hate to think what would happen to this lady’s frame if we tried to turn her like a Vickers at that speed.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to find out anytime soon then Sir.” Jerard grinned at the shock that crossed Nichol’s face. Clearly the thought of even trying to turn the Discretion that fast had wretched at Nichol’s reality. The man visibly shuddered. “So last stop on this deck is the auxiliary bridge yes?” He prompted.
“Indeed Captain, here we are.” The final door in the passageway opened onto a metal framed catwalk above the rear bridge module. Stairs to their right led down to the control room floor while the catwalk itself snaked around left to what appeared to be an observation platform aft. Nichols started off down the stairs automatically but Phillips quietly strolled around the catwalk towards the observation post.
Looking down he could see a couple of crewmen in maintenance uniform fussing over a control station. One man had his face and arms obscured as he worked on something at the back of the station. The other appeared to be assisting by handing the first tools. Even from above Jerard could tell that there was something not quite right about the standing man. However he could not put a finger on what it was. Curious, he turned to retrace his steps and go see, as he did his foot caught on something.
Under his boot heel was a strange ring pattern cut into the floor plate. Recognizing it Phillips eyes narrowed as he picked out the four bolt points at the quarters of the circle. What in heavens name was a gun mount doing here in a civilian ship? Admittedly Nichols had said the Discretion was something of a testbed for its manufacturers before Mr. Starblower had acquired it but, Beardmore and company were not an armaments firm he knew. Jerard turned back and took a second look at the observation port, it took a moment but his eyes were able to find the latches to open the port. Definitely a gun mount he thought, ah well, something else to ask about later.
Jerard retraced his steps around the catwalk and descended the metal stairs. He observed Nichols now speaking to the two men. At Phillips’s approach the engineer turned and sketched a salute..
“Captain, this is Airshipman Dortsmorn and Airshipman Wright. They were completing repairs this morning and were not able to attend the early morning muster.”
The two men touched their hands to their temples nervously; Wright left a slight smudge of sealant on his cheek as he did so. In fact Mr. Wright seemed overly flustered and abashed. While in contrast the man Jerard had observed a few moments before, now identified as Dortsmorn, seemed overly languid and for lack of a better word, dull.
“At ease gentleman, I’m not demanding a parade.” Phillips said while studying the faces of the pair. A slight reddening mark on Wright’s forehead made Jerard wonder if the poor chap had bumped his head in an effort to extricate himself from the control array just now. “What were you working on Mr. Wright?” He asked conversationally.
“Erm, just re-caulking the inner se
als behind the navigator’s desk Sir.” The man stumbled out.
“Good show wouldn’t want a sudden draft to send the charts flying about now would we? Not much room under there I guess Mr Wright?”
“No Sir it’s pretty cramped.” The man replied obviously still not at ease. Phillips decided to let him be and passed onto Dortsmorn.
“Unusual name Mr. Dortsmorn, where are you from?” He asked studying the middle aged man’s tranquil face.
“Holland, Sir” came the unhurried reply “My father is Dutch, but we moved to England when I was twelve.”
“I see, and have you much experience with airships Mr. Dortsmorn?” Jerard asked, noting the man’s features. He would have pegged him as German but what did Jerard know? It is not like he had spent much time in either country.
“No Sir, this is my first but I have been working with combustion engines most of my life…it’s something of a family tradition…” Dortsmorn trailed off uncertainly.
“A tradition eh? How did you make the jump to airship engines then Sir?” Jerard had noted the confused look on the man’s face, it was as if he were trying to recall something.
“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.
