navigator. The walls were teak paneled, the fascia for the instruments of walnut and chrome, while the floor was cov-ered wall to wall in a fine Wilton car-pet. All of the positions were vacant at the moment other than that of the helmsman on duty who sat, staring dutifully ahead, with his fingers resting lightly on the spokes of his steering wheel.
“Officers all below,” said Alec. “Chatting up the first class passengers as always. Praise be I have my engines to look after so I don’t have to join them. I say, let me show you around the engine room, I think, you’ll enjoy that. Just bung your case into nay’s tubby, all the room in the world in there.”
The navigator might not think so; the room was scarcely larger than a phone box and Gus had trouble finding a free corner for his case. Then Alec opened a hatch and led him down a spiral staircase to the forehold where longshoremen were putting aboard the last of the luggage, suitcases and great steamer trunks, lashing them into place with netting. A narrow walkway was left that they followed down the length of the vessel towards the stern.
“Passenger deck is one deck up but we can avoid them by going this way.” Voices could be heard dimly above them accompanied by the lively strains of a merrily playing band.
“It sounds like a ten-piece brass band up there—don’t tell me you ship all of them along, too?”
“Only in the ethereal sense, tape recordings you know. Have to watch the gross weight, the ruddy thing runs over one hundred tons before she gets airborne.”
“I seem to have noticed little con-cern for weight up until now.”
“You can say that again—or tell it to the Board of Governors if you will.
In the Cunard tradition, they in-sist. If we stripped off all the chrome and brass and teak we could get an-other hundred passengers aboard.”
“Though not in the same comfort. Perhaps they want quality not quan-tity?”
“There is that. Not my worry. Here we go, into this lift, a tight fit for two so try to think small.” It op-erated automatically; the door closed and they rose smoothly at the touch of the button. “Wing is right on top of the body and this saves a climb.”
They emerged inside a low-ceilinged passage that ran transverse to the length of the ship, with heavy doors sealing each end, knobs and indicator lights set into their frames. The engineer turned right and actuated the controls so the door there swung open to disclose a small room little bigger than the lift they had just quitted.
“Air lock,” he said as the door be-hind them closed and another before them opened. “No point in pressur-izing the engine rooms so we do this instead. Welcome to the portside en-gine room of the Queen Elizabeth where I rule supreme.”
This rule was instantly challenged by a rating in a soiled white boilersuit who saluted indifferently then shook his thumb gloomily over his shoulder.
“Still at it, sir, fueling, topping up the bunkers they say.”
“My orders were to have it done by ten.”
“And that I’ve told them, sir,” spo-ken with such an air of infinite sad-ness as though all the woes of the ages rode the man’s thin shoulders.
“Well, they’ll hear them again,” said the engineer and added a score of colorful oaths that indicated both his military as well as his nautical background. He stamped over to a large hinged plate in the floor, unlocked the handles that secured it and threw it open. The water was a good twenty feet below as he seized the edge of the opening and popped his head and half of his upper body down through it so he hung upside down. “Ahoy the barge,” he bel-lowed.
Gus knelt at the opposite side where he had a perfect view of the proceedings. A hulking barge with a pumping station at one end was tied up against the hull of the Queen Elizabeth. Great pipes snaked up from it to valves inset in the ship’s side, the last of which was even then being disconnected. As it came away a great
“Officers all below,” said Alec. “Chatting up the first class passengers as always. Praise be I have my engines to look after so I don’t have to join them. I say, let me show you around the engine room, I think, you’ll enjoy that. Just bung your case into nay’s tubby, all the room in the world in there.”
The navigator might not think so; the room was scarcely larger than a phone box and Gus had trouble finding a free corner for his case. Then Alec opened a hatch and led him down a spiral staircase to the forehold where longshoremen were putting aboard the last of the luggage, suitcases and great steamer trunks, lashing them into place with netting. A narrow walkway was left that they followed down the length of the vessel towards the stern.
“Passenger deck is one deck up but we can avoid them by going this way.” Voices could be heard dimly above them accompanied by the lively strains of a merrily playing band.
“It sounds like a ten-piece brass band up there—don’t tell me you ship all of them along, too?”
“Only in the ethereal sense, tape recordings you know. Have to watch the gross weight, the ruddy thing runs over one hundred tons before she gets airborne.”
“I seem to have noticed little con-cern for weight up until now.”
“You can say that again—or tell it to the Board of Governors if you will.
In the Cunard tradition, they in-sist. If we stripped off all the chrome and brass and teak we could get an-other hundred passengers aboard.”
“Though not in the same comfort. Perhaps they want quality not quan-tity?”
“There is that. Not my worry. Here we go, into this lift, a tight fit for two so try to think small.” It op-erated automatically; the door closed and they rose smoothly at the touch of the button. “Wing is right on top of the body and this saves a climb.”
They emerged inside a low-ceilinged passage that ran transverse to the length of the ship, with heavy doors sealing each end, knobs and indicator lights set into their frames. The engineer turned right and actuated the controls so the door there swung open to disclose a small room little bigger than the lift they had just quitted.
“Air lock,” he said as the door be-hind them closed and another before them opened. “No point in pressur-izing the engine rooms so we do this instead. Welcome to the portside en-gine room of the Queen Elizabeth where I rule supreme.”
This rule was instantly challenged by a rating in a soiled white boilersuit who saluted indifferently then shook his thumb gloomily over his shoulder.
“Still at it, sir, fueling, topping up the bunkers they say.”
“My orders were to have it done by ten.”
“And that I’ve told them, sir,” spo-ken with such an air of infinite sad-ness as though all the woes of the ages rode the man’s thin shoulders.
“Well, they’ll hear them again,” said the engineer and added a score of colorful oaths that indicated both his military as well as his nautical background. He stamped over to a large hinged plate in the floor, unlocked the handles that secured it and threw it open. The water was a good twenty feet below as he seized the edge of the opening and popped his head and half of his upper body down through it so he hung upside down. “Ahoy the barge,” he bel-lowed.
Gus knelt at the opposite side where he had a perfect view of the proceedings. A hulking barge with a pumping station at one end was tied up against the hull of the Queen Elizabeth. Great pipes snaked up from it to valves inset in the ship’s side, the last of which was even then being disconnected. As it came away a great
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