Jake White The BeginningChapter 8
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Bea looked down through the hatch that led to the engine. Zeke had shown her where it was, and then Amanda had called out a question regarding bedding or something. Bea was too absorbed in what lay below the hatch to take too much notice. She told Zeke to attend to Amanda and that she would be fine. She could see that the engine room was accessed by a series of steep stairs, each going down one deck at a time with a landing in between. She made her way down to the first landing where the initial thing that struck her were the variety of smells, none of which she could identify. They were different to anything she was familiar with, but not unpleasant. Off this landing she found a small cabin with a cot and a desk, obviously the engineers living accommodation. On a shelf above the desk were a number of heavy tomes with embossed titles indicating that the contents would tell you everything you wanted to know about steam engines, and all their attached pumps and paraphernalia. Provided, of course, that you could understand them.
From where she stood on the first landing she could look down and see the ship’s engine below her. Everything she could see was ‘engine’; she supposed that every part had its own name, and undoubtedly its individual function but ... it was all ‘engine’. She had been fascinated by the mysterious workings of her Remingtons, which she had cleaned and maintained, until she understood how they worked, and now she was presented with something rather larger, and much more interesting. Could she solve the mystery of how this worked? She made her way slowly down each level, and at each level more was revealed. The thing that amazed her was that everything she could see was very clean, there were parts that were painted, but much of it was gleaming bare metal that had no more than a light coat of oil. She eventually arrived at the bottom where she realised that what she could see below her was the inside of the ship’s bottom, the top of the keel and the keelson, although she had no idea what that was, but she had heard of it, and she could certainly see the ship’s frames. There was a long round piece of metal that disappeared into the gloom where the ship narrowed at the stern. At the other end it was attached to some very large lumps of metal, and there were various rods and things that she couldn’t name and had no idea what they did. She looked thoughtfully, then giggled, thinking that she must be the only woman ever to have come down here. Then she started her way back up. Part way up she looked at a large painted piece and saw that it had a jagged line across it which looked out of place. There was a brown stain of rust around the line, partially obscuring the lettering which had been cast in proclaiming it to be from McPherson’s of Glasgow. She stopped and examined it. Fitz had referred to the cracked cylinder, and putting two and two together she guessed that this was the problem. So that, she thought to herself, is the cylinder, and then looked and realised there were two others, but of different sizes. So there were three cylinders. Feeling rather pleased with herself she made her way up to the engineer’s cabin.
Bea looked at the books on the shelf. Clearly the engineer must have met with some misfortune, because she couldn’t think that he would have left these behind, they were obviously quite valuable. She selected one, sat in the chair and opened it. The opening chapter stated that all engines presently in use, together with all their ancillaries, would be described with their operation and maintenance. It looked like heavy reading. She looked further and there were a large number of diagrams. None of them seemed relevant to what she had seen down in the engine room. She replaced the book and sighed. She sat back and looked at the rest of the books with a further sigh, and then leant forward and opened a drawer in the desk. Inside there was a cardboard box file. On the top was a label with the legend ‘McPherson Sons & Co, Glasgow’. She took the box out and opened it and quickly realised that this was what she had wanted. The paperwork covered every aspect of this engine, its operation and maintenance. There were many diagrams including a large drawing of the engine with all the parts labelled. This was exactly what she wanted, and she started reading.
It was some time later that she heard voices and footsteps coming down the companionway. She stood up and went out to find Fitz and two other men.
“Hello Bea,” Fitz greeted her. “Zeke said you were down here. These gentlemen are surveyors. Mr Abbot and Mr Costello,” he indicated the two men, “gentlemen, my fiancee, Lady Beatrice Hatherley.”
“Lady Beatrice,” The men acknowledged Bea almost in unison.
“Have you been down further?” asked Fitz.
“Yes,” Bea replied, and then, since she had just acquired the knowledge. “I saw the crack in the low pressure cylinder.”
The men looked at each other.
“Shall we go down, gentlemen?” said Fitz, “I’ll lead the way.”
“I’ll follow you, gentlemen,” said Bea to some raised eyebrows. Fitz of course knew better than to argue.
Bea arrived at the level where the cracked cylinder could best be seen a minute or so behind the men.
“Well, she was quite right, that’s quite a crack,” Costello was saying.
“Can it be repaired?” asked Fitz.
“No,” said Abbot. “And if you steamed it as it is then the most likely thing is that it would explode with a good chance of some part going through the hull. Low pressure is only relative. The only thing you can do is replace it.”
“Can it be done?”
“If we were on the East Coast then yes. But it can’t be done here, there are no facilities to cast something like that,” Abbot went on. “And it would take eight or nine months to send for one to be made. The engine’s a few years old so I doubt that McPherson’s still have the patterns,” he went on, “ ... might do, I suppose, but it would take even longer to send to Glasgow.”
“Hmm...” Fitz was otherwise pensive.
“Let’s look at the boiler,” said Costello. “If that isn’t up to much...” he shrugged.
The general consensus was that the boiler was also in fair condition. Some time was spent examining everything in detail.
“The rest of the ship seems to be in good order,” said Costello. “We’ll let you have a report in writing for your owners, Captain,” he told Fitz, “and then a decision can be made as to what should be done.”
And with handshakes they left.
“That doesn’t sound too good,” commented Bea.
“No,” Fitz replied. “I wish we had an engineer. I wonder what happened to him?”
“He left his books behind,” said Bea, “and from what I’ve heard of this town, if you’ve a few dollars in your pocket on a dark night...”
“That could happen in any port in the world,” Fitz replied. “Every sailor knows that. Damned nuisance though.”
Bea returned to the engineer’s cabin, she was determined to find out more about engines, and despite the fact that this one was probably scrap, it was there to be studied. After all, how much difference could there be between engines?
Mendez stood and started towards the pile of rubble that had been the front entrance to the monastery. Hermione followed, picking her way carefully, and balancing herself with the weight of the pistol that she had been loaned. It was, she thought, the size of a small cannon, and she could not help wondering what would happen if she had to fire it. They went through the jagged opening that was all that was left of the inner doors. They entered a large chamber, a long table in the centre with benches either side. At this moment there were two figures crawling out from under the table.
Hermione realised that it was Chlamydia Mondegreen and Hugh Jampton.
They stood, brushed themselves off and looked towards the new arrivals.
“Hermione!” Chlamydia exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here? Have you come to rescue us?”
At this moment Jake and Susan entered from the other end of the chamber, with Captain Diaz behind them.
“Ah, there are the other two,” said Diaz, “I don’t know what happened to the rest of the men, but now we can dispose of this lot in one go. You can drop your gun now, Sir Jacob.” he looked at Mendez. “El Gordo will bring in the gunpowder to bring the building down and cover the bodies.”
He prodded Jake in the back with his gun. Jake dropped his gun.
“Now, get over there against the wall. Not you, bitch,” he indicated Susan. “You are going to learn not to embarrass a Spanish officer with your fancy tricks before you die. This time you will taste the finest Toledo steel.”
Diaz whirled around and attacked Susan. He was obviously surprised when she was ready and parried his thrust. He rallied and continued his attack. Susan sidestepped. She might not have had the strength of Diaz, but she was faster, and as he went past she cut his arm. He came at her fast again, his face a mask of fury. This time he appeared to get past her guard but again he thrust at thin air. He rushed at her again, but this time his sword left his hand and described an arc through the air. It ended up stuck in the table, the hilt quivering. There was a look of shock on Diaz’s face as he looked down at the hilt of Susan’s sword projecting from his chest. She let go and he collapsed onto the flag stoned floor.
There was a moment’s silence and then the crash as Mendez fired at Susan. It was at that precise moment that the stress of the fight caught up with her, and she fainted, the bullet passing harmlessly over her head and burying itself in the wall. Another second later Hermione found out why she had not been disarmed as the pistol she aimed at Mendez simply made a loud click. Mendez turned to her.
“You didn’t think we would give you a loaded pistol did you? How stupid do you think we are?” he sneered.
There was a loud crack from the Derringer that Myrtle was holding.
Mendez turned to her and laughed, at the same time Jake dived for his revolver and fired at Mendez, hitting him in the hip. Mendez staggered and fired back, his bullet tearing a groove in the table near to Jake’s head. Jake’s second shot was to Mendez’s heart. Mendez sprawled on the floor, dead, his pistol clattered to the floor, and skidded away from him.
Silence.
Gunsmoke wreathed through the air.
Hermione dashed to Susan, kneeling down and taking her in her arms.
“Find some water, Myrtle,” she called.
Myrtle rushed out. She was followed by Jake saying that he would look for El Gordo.
“Well what on earth was that all about?” asked Chlamydia. “I recognised the officer, he was with the group that brought us here, wasn’t he Hugh?”
“He was,” Hugh confirmed. “He was a member of the group who want to take over the government. I have to say that was superb swordsmanship.”
“Shouldn’t that be swordswomanship?” asked Chlamydia, clearly trying to adjust to the situation. She joined Hermione kneeling by Susan.
“Is she hurt?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” replied Hermione. “It was so fast, but I don’t think he touched her.”
Myrtle returned with a pitcher of water and Hermione gave some to Susan who was recovering.
“Oh!” said Susan. I didn’t think...”
“And probably just as well you didn’t, my dear,” Chlamydia told her. “But you were magnificent!”
The sound of many hooves and the jingle of harness came from the rear of the building. They looked at one another, and Hugh started to go and see what was happening when Jake reappeared with a cavalry officer.
Hermione looked at him. “Not again...”
“No, my love,” said Jake. “Allow me to introduce El Comandante Francisco Torres of the Twenty-third Caballeria Ligera, that is, I believe, light cavalry. He has come to rescue us.”
All three ladies scrambled to their feet, and Jake introduced them, and Hugh.
Comandante Torres bowed. “It does not look as though you need rescuing.” he smiled. “And you have killed the traitor,” he turned to Jake, “that will avoid a problem.”
“Not I,” said Jake, “Susan is the swordsman, um ... swordswoman.”
Torres turned to Susan.
“You did this?” he said to Susan. “Diaz was a noted duellist. How...?”
“Perhaps he was put off by fighting a woman. I was trained by my father,” she said. “He taught me that if you fight, you should do so to win.”
“And win you did, I take my hat off to you,” Torres bowed to her. “Now, there must be some food here ... are there any monks?”
“We saw two or three yesterday,” said Chlamydia grinned. “But perhaps Hermione’s enthusiasm for explosions has scared them off. Certainly didn’t do me any good.”
“Yes,” said Torres, “we heard that as we were riding up here. A little excessive perhaps.”
“You can blame Mendez for that,” said Hermione indicating the body. “But I don’t think he’ll answer any charges.”
“What we need, Fitz, is a new engine,” said Bea.
They were sitting in the saloon eating a simple repast that Zeke and Amanda had prepared.
“And an engineer,” replied a rather dejected Fitz.
“As you say, and an engineer.”
“And where, my love, do you suppose we will get one of those? It’s not like shops full of dresses and things.”
“Do you suppose,” said Bea with a degree of sarcasm, “that a ship yard might know of an engine?”
“Hmm ... well yes, I suppose you’re right,” said Fitz perking up. “Right, I’ll go ashore now and see what I can find.”
Bea returned to her studies, if there was one thing she had discovered it was that almost no two engines were actually alike. Another thing she had learnt was that unlike what so many people said, James Watt didn’t invent the steam engine. He had improved on Newcomen’s engines by adding a separate condenser, giving greater efficiency, but it was still low pressure steam to push the piston up, and atmospheric pressure to push the piston down. And that was a novelty, imagine, air exerted a pressure on things, even on her. Perhaps she supposed, if you didn’t have air pressure your body would just blow up. She shuddered, that didn’t bear thinking about. But did it just press on her shoulders ... or did it press up as well? In a steam engine, the pressure of steam forced the piston up and down, controlled by the valve gear. So that was what all the rods and eccentrics did. And when the steam and been used it, it was condensed back into water, which you could feed back into the boiler to turn to steam again. This engine had three cylinders, the smallest was fed with steam straight from the boiler, and when it had expanded to push the piston down the valves fed it into the middle sized cylinder, and then into the large one, which was the low pressure. Triple expansion! The big low pressure cylinder was where the crack was, but it was still potentially dangerous.
Bea was very pleased with herself. Her head was full of new things.
Fitz, Bea, and Amanda met for supper at their hotel that evening. Fitz was full of enthusiasm, the second shipyard he had gone to had a second hand engine. It had, he told them, been salvaged from a ship which had gone aground, and had been so badly hogged that the only option was to scrap it.
“Hogged?” Asked Bea.
“The ship was supported by a sandbank when the tide ebbed,” said Fitz. “That left the bow and stern unsupported. The entire frame of the ship was so badly strained that scrapping was the only option.”
“What sort of engine is it?” asked Bea.
Fitz paused. “Well ... it’s an engine ... what sorts are there?”
“Well,” Bea began with an air of authority, “it has to be a triple expansion engine. That is what we have now, and anything else will eat coal.”
“I see,” Fitz was thoughtful. “The shipyard people are coming aboard tomorrow. I’ll ask them then.”
And I shall be there to hear what they have to say, thought Bea.
They went on to discuss domestic arrangements and Amanda told them what she had found out about the ship and what it was provided with. Certainly linens were distinctly lacking, and she wondered whether, if it was going to be some time before they could leave whether it might be an idea to rent a house.
“That would be a good idea,” said Bea. “But it would mean that we would have to have domestic staff, and we’ve no idea how long that would be for.”
“I was talking to Zeke,” Amanda replied. “He told me he knows a couple who might be ideal. He thought of them for the ship, but from what he told me I think they might do to look after us ashore as well.”
“Yes, he told me about them, but I hadn’t done anything about it,” said Fitz.
It might seem that, as Bea’s companion and sometime maid, Amanda was somewhat forward, but she was well aware of her mistress’s shortcomings in the field of domesticity. She was also aware that whilst Fitz could look after a ship full of men, his knowledge of a civilian household was somewhat lacking. She could also see that at present he hadn’t got an aide to look after those things. All this was probably more of a reaction to the situation, but she wanted to be of use and Lord Kingswood had told her to look after Bea, and by extension she thought, Fitz too.
“Since both of you will be aboard ’Rigel’ in the morning shall I have a look and see what sort of property there is to rent?” she asked.
Fitz looked at Bea. “Are you coming aboard in the morning?” he asked.
“Of course,” Bea replied. “Yes, Amanda, I think that would be an excellent idea. I’m sure you know what we’ll need. We’ll get Zeke to find this couple and we’ll interview them. If they can look after us ashore as well as onboard that would be ideal.”
The following morning Fitz and Bea went to the ship to meet the shipyard men, and Amanda set about her task.
The first thing she did was enquire of the concierge as to where she might find a letting agent. He corrected her, saying she wanted a real estate agent and gave her directions to two. She set out to walk to her destination. Having got partway she saw a woman coming towards her that she recognised. The woman looked at her and a broad smile spread across her face.
“We met on the train,” she said. “I remember your friend too.”
“My mistress, Lady Beatrice Hatherley,” said Amanda. “I am her companion.”
“Ah, that would make sense. She is a very forthright young lady. I was prepared to intervene when she was accosted by that young man, but she was well able to cope with him. Do you know what happened to him?”
“He came out onto the veranda and seized hold of me, I was attempting to fight him off when she pointed her gun at him. She stamped hard on his foot and whilst he was off balance she pushed him and he fell off the train,” Amanda told her.
The woman laughed. “Well done her! I’d guessed it was something like that. There’s a coffee shop just here, join me.”
Amanda decided that she had time, and so a few minutes later the woman introduced herself.
“I’m Fanny Forsale,” the woman told Amanda, and you are?”
An odd name, Amanda thought. “Amanda Collins,” she told her.
“Oh! Well that is a coincidence,” exclaimed Fanny.
“A coincidence?”
“Well, yes. But tell me about yourself, Amanda.”
“There’s not much to tell. My parents worked for Lord Kingswood at his house just outside Bristol, and when I was old enough I started work there. Then when Lady Beatrice came home she wanted me to be her maid.
“Just outside Bristol, you say?”
“Yes.”
“And your father is Fred Collins?”
“Yes...” said Amanda, somewhat taken aback, “ ... but how do you know?”
“Fanny Forsale is my professional name. Almost no one knows my real name,” she took a deep breath. “It’s Frances Collins.”
“Well, that is a coincidence...” a look a realisation appeared on Amanda’s face. “You’re the aunt I was never allowed to meet!”
“Yes,” said Fanny. “The family disowned me.”
“Why?”
“Because I became the mistress of a wealthy ship owner. I ... I have a business in town now,” Fanny flushed. “It caters for ... gentlemen, a sort of club. I employ girls to entertain them. Oh! I didn’t think I could blush anymore!”
“Club for gentlemen,” said Amanda. “Oh! You ... Oh!” It was her turn to blush. “I suppose I can understand why father wouldn’t approve.”
“Not your father, Amanda,” Fanny smiled, thinking about her brother, “But your grandparents and your mother, I’m afraid she was very disapproving of my ... profession.”
“So how did you get here Aunt Fanny?” asked Amanda.
“Oh, just Fanny, please, dear. I’m not so much older than you,” Fanny told her, with a straight face, and then went on. “As I said, I became the mistress of a shipowner, Isaac Norton. We came to New York on one of his ships, but he got involved in something which I think must have been illegal, and disappeared. So I was left on my own with very little money, but of course I still had my profession, so it wasn’t too long before I was back in funds. Funny thing was, a few months later I found this girl on the street. I must be soft hearted, but I asked her if I could help and she told me her story. She had come to New York as maid to a Mrs Norton. It didn’t take me long to ascertain that she was the wife of the man I came to New York with. Now that was a coincidence. Apparently Mrs Norton was now the mistress of a Sir Jacob, although she is older than him. They came to recover the ship.”
“Sir Jacob? Sir Jacob White?” exclaimed Amanda.
“Yes,”said Fanny. “Do you know him? Oh, of course,” realisation dawned, “I know who he is.”
“I’m sure everyone in Bristol does,” said Amanda.
“So where does he come into this? Or does he not?”
“He owns the ’Rigel’, the ship Captain Fitz is here to command.”
“’Rigel’ was the ship I came over on. It seems such a small world,” Fanny mused. “Anyway,” she went on “I took Daisy in, and before long she was working for me. We spent one winter in New York and decided that it was too damned cold for us, and we took a boat to come here. We earned some money on board, enough to pay the passage, even after the captain’s cut, and when we got here I set up my business. It hasn’t been all easy, but it’s going well now.”
Fanny paused and looked at Amanda. “You don’t look too shocked.”
“That must be Lady Bea’s influence. After being with her for some time, and listening to what she has been through, I don’t think anything could surprise me. On the way here she shot a man who was trying to ... to rape her, and she took his guns. She wouldn’t part with those Remingtons for the world now,” Amanda giggled at the memory although at the time she was so afraid she thought she would lose control of her ... yes, well.
“I must meet her. So you wouldn’t be shocked if I offered you a job?” Fanny laughed.
“I’d say thank you very much,” Amanda told her. “But I like the job I have now. Oh! I must get on to the real state agents. I have to look for a house to rent.”
“I’ll come with you,” offered Fanny. “I may be of some help, I know how this town works.”
Amanda had discovered a ‘lost’ relative, and despite Fanny’s profession she had warmed to her and felt that she would like to know her better. There was also the fact that here was a point of contact a long way from home.
“I think I’d like that,” Amanda replied.
Fitz and Bea met with the men from the shipyard in what was almost a repeat of the previous day, except that this time it was Mr Laurel and Mr Hardy. Like the previous pair, one was tall and thin whilst the other was short and portly. This time, having inspected the cylinder, with an identical result to the day before, they made their way down to the bowels of the ship. The men were, of course, surprised that Bea had accompanied them down there. The two men were looking around at the engine room.
“Will this engine fit in here?” asked Bea. “We are talking about a triple expansion engine, aren’t we. I see little point in fitting an older design. Is it larger than this one?”
Laurel and Hardy looked at one another, whilst Fitz stood there with a grin on his face, watching the two men. If they could get anything past Bea he would be surprised.
“Of course, Lady Beatrice,” said Mr Hardy. “The engine is somewhat larger than this one, and of course more powerful. As to alterations, well, we might have to make one or two. Minor, of course.” He clearly wasn’t used to a woman asking him questions beyond whether she could get him another glass of whisky.
“We must have a price for the work,” Fitz told them. “Including all necessary work to fit and commission the engine. Lady Beatrice represents the companys’ bankers, so she has a close interest in ensuring that nothing goes wrong.”
“Oh, yes, of course, Captain. We will need a day or two to measure up exactly,” said Mr Laurel. “But we should have a firm price by the end of the week.”
“Excellent,” Fitz replied. “Then we will leave you to it.”
There was little else that they could do concerning the engine. When they reached the deck they stood taking in the view of the anchorage.
“I’m not sure that I’m really a representative of my father’s bank,” said Bea.
“You would look after your father’s interests wouldn’t you?”
“Well, yes, I would.”
“So there you are. I don’t think it hurts, even if it is a slight stretch,” Fitz grinned, and then became serious. “If we cannot get the new engine for whatever reason we will have to become a sailing ship.”
“We’ll keep our fingers crossed,” Bea replied. “We certainly don’t want that.”
“What are you going to do now?” asked Fitz.
“I really need to see if I can find a bookshop. I’ll have Zeke take me ashore,” said Bea. “I wonder what happened to the engineer,” she mused. “Do you know his name?”
“Yes,” said Fitz. “according to the crew list his name is Angus McClean.”
“Bound to be a Scotsman,” said Bea.
“I don’t think all Scots are engineers, nor all engineers Scots,” Fitz laughed. “Nevertheless it would be good to have an engineer. I appreciate that you have learnt a great deal, but...”
“But I’m just a woman?” Bea’s smile looked like a cat that was about to give a mouse a very hard time.
“No! No of course not my love,” Fitz replied hastily. “No, but you have no practical experience.”
“That is true,” said Bea. “So I shall forgive you.”
Fitz breathed a sigh of relief.
Zeke took Bea ashore and escorted her as far as the post office, after which she went off to see if she could find the book she wanted.
El Comandante Francisco Torres decided that the best thing to be done was to start back as soon as they could, but nevertheless it was early evening before they arrived back at the village. Once there the men dealt with the horses and sorted out their accommodation in the barn where El Comandante, Jake and Hugh would join them later. The ladies, of course, were accommodated in the inn, although they would all be in one room. But before that they would all eat in the main room of the inn.
The group were sitting on benches either side of a rough wooden table for their meal. Each of them had a mug of red wine. Jake, who knew something of wines, was convinced that the table was probably smoother than the wine. This particular vintage tasted as though the man who had trodden the grapes had not only not cleaned his feet first, but had given his trousers their annual wash in the juice too. However the bread was fresh, and the goat ragoût was very good.
“I have been thinking,” began Hermione, “and I really can’t put everything that has happened into one narrative. I’m not at all sure how we got involved, and particularly why we went to the monastery.”
“It all began,” said Jake, “when Minerva saw us. As far as she is concerned we are British agents. She obviously discussed this with the Marqués, and Captain Diaz. All three knew of the plot, but what Min and the Marqués didn’t know was that Diaz was part of the plot, neither did I at that time, and his presence there was to make sure he and his fellow plotters knew what the Marqués knew, and could also feed him with false information.
“Diaz was worried by what Minerva said about us and so he had me ‘arrested’. When he realised that I knew nothing about a plot, and was genuinely just on route for Oporto, he had another problem on his hands. Me. And when you and Susan and Myrtle turned up, he was delighted because he could get rid of all of us. That was preferable to just disposing of me, and having a widow on the war path. That was why he insisted that we come with him. Diaz, of course, knew why Chlamydia and Hugh were at the monastery, although he did think they were under guard.”
“We were kidnapped when I approach Hugh to tell him about the proposed coup,” Chlamydia joined in. “I’d met up with General César Aspilicueta at a reception, and I could see that his britches were, umm ... well filled. So as a umm...” she blushed, “well, something to get him interested, I pretended not to speak Spanish. Well, I don’t speak very much, but he was very indiscreet. Anyway, I think he suspected that I knew what was going on.”
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