Mr. Robinson’s hand.
She felt herself being propelled back the way they’d come.
The relief was immediate—the air in the passage seeming relatively cool after the stifling broil behind them.
‘Some water, yes?’ Mr. Lopez squeezed past, bringing them to a side room no less gloomy than the passage, but with enough room for the three of them.
Taking a flask from his inner pocket, he unscrewed the lid and wiped the rim upon his sleeve before passing it to Cecile.
Gratefully, she took a sip, and smiled her thanks, doing her best to ignore the tepid water’s metallic tang.
‘Rest a moment, yes?’ The engineer returned the flask to his pocket.
Wishing to make amends for her previous lack of enthusiasm, Cecile looked about the room. ‘So many pipes, Mr. Lopez. What do they carry? Steam to the engines?’
‘Not these. Here, we have the water supply, which must be constant to the tanks above the furnaces.’
‘Ah yes.’ Mr. Robinson’s interest was evident. ‘I’ve read a little. The heat below turns the water into steam, which powers the pistons driving the engine. The ducts have to be kept fully open. Anything less wouldn’t just impair the ship’s speed but might cause the steam pipes to rupture.’
Mr. Lopez’s pleasure was evident. ‘Yes, just so. This room is only for us to check on the water pressure. You see…’ He indicated the gauges attached to the pipes.
‘And what’s that?’ Cecile pointed to a wooden box in the far corner, beside which was a canvas bag and a folded blanket.
Mr. Lopez peered where she indicated. ‘You have good eyes, Lady McCaulay.’ He frowned slightly. ‘The men sleep in shared bunks in the stern of the ship; one in and one out. But, someone has been coming here.’
‘We all have need of privacy, now and then.’ Mr. Robinson interjected. ‘Perhaps we should go. No need to pry. You might mention it to the foreman, later. Get him to remind the men of what’s allowed.’
Mr. Lopez nodded. ‘You should be the diplomat, Mr. Robinson, like our Mr. Barbosa. And, you’re right. It is time for us to go.’