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."
145
"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."
146
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
147
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.
148
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
149
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."
It was all I could do to keep from gaping at her. Surely this change of temperament was due to Admiral Sopcoate's good influence.
Tipton led me to the ladder, and while Grandmother distracted him with conversation, I set my soggy hat on the ground, then scurried up as fast as I could. Admiral Sopcoate motioned me over to where he and the captain were studying what looked to be a very skinny cannon.
Captain Bacon was holding an enormous shell that was as long as my forearm and three times as thick.
150
Admiral Sopcoate indicated the loading chamber. "We just pop this in the tube here, add a powder charge, and the gun's ready to go."
I blinked as a realization hit me with the force of one of those artillery shells. Of course! The key to the staff was popping the Orb of Ra into place--that's what had triggered all the mummies! The power lay in putting the two together, just like a cannon was harmless until loaded with artillery!
And if I'd had a minute to think in the past forty-eight hours, I would have figured that out ages ago.
All I had to do was remove the wretched orb and the mummies would stay put. Excellent.
I glanced at Admiral Sopcoate, deep in conversation with Captain Bacon, then at Grandmother, talking with Petty Officer Tipton. Now I just had to get these two to quit jawing long enough to return me to the museum.
151
CHAPTER FOURTEEN THE BLOOD OF ISIS
***
WHEN THE CARRIAGE FINALLY PULLED UP in front of the museum, it was nearly dark. It was all I could do to keep from hopping out and running inside, except I knew Grandmother would have taken that as a grave insult and very poor manners besides. However, instead of bidding me goodbye, she began to gather her things. "Oh, are you getting out, too?" I asked.
"Well, of course we are. We're not about to drop you off like a package."
My heart sank. I so needed to get to the staff and remove the orb! It would be dark soon, and the mummies would be on the march shortly after that.
152
I waited as patiently as I could while the admiral stepped from the carriage, the
n turned smartly to assist Grandmother. The way she smiled at him made me feel a little embarrassed for her, so I looked away. I would have thought grandmothers were much too old to get sweet on anybody, especially a salty old admiral.
Once Grandmother had finished her simpering and creaked her way out of the carriage, we all proceeded to the museum's entrance, where Flimp let us in.
"Mr. Throckmorton's in his office," he told us.
"Excellent," the admiral replied.
"Thank you very much for taking me to see your ship. It was most impressive, and I think you should be very proud." Not to mention it may have given me a very important clue to halting the mummy exodus.
"Not at all, not at all," the admiral said, patting me on the shoulder.
"Come," Grandmother said imperiously. "I want to check and see if Miss Sharpe ever made it here today. If she didn't, I'll want to know the reason why."
She strode off toward Father's office, Admiral Sopcoate and I lagging in her wake. Although I was very glad that Miss Sharpe appeared to have been taken down a peg or two in Grandmother's estimation, I was desperate to get back
153
down to the catacombs and try my new theory for deactivating the staff.
We reached Father's office, and Grandmother rapped once on the door and marched in. Mother, who'd been talking to Father, jumped to her feet and came over to greet me. "Did you have a good time, dear?" she asked.
"It was very interesting, Mother. And educational."
"Wonderful!" She put her hands on my shoulders. I was beginning to think she did that whenever Grandmother was around just to steady herself. "Thank you so much for taking her, Admiral Sopcoate. It was an opportunity of a lifetime. I'm only sorry we couldn't accompany you."
Grandmother snorted. I asked her, ever so sweetly, "Would you like to borrow my handkerchief, Grandmother, dear?"
She stared at me, truly shocked at my vulgarity. "I beg your pardon?" she said in her frostiest voice.
"Eh, what?" the admiral said. "Here, you can use mine, Lavinia." He whipped out a starched white handkerchief the size of a flag from his pocket.
She slapped it away. "Don't be silly! I don't need a handkerchief!" Her face reddened, and I felt Mum's grip on me relax a bit. Take that, you old bat, I thought.
Grandmother glowered at me, as if able to discern my
154
thoughts. "Did Miss Sharpe ever show up?" she asked Father.
"Yes, she did. She arrived about a half an hour after you left. When I explained Theodosia would be out for the day, she said she'd see her tomorrow."
The scowl on Grandmother's face told me she wasn't happy, so I decided to press my advantage. "Grandmother, don't you think it would be best, given Miss Sharpe's missed appearance this morning, if we plan to meet here at the museum for at least the first week? That way, if she is unavoidably detained again, I won't be left home alone. At least here at the museum, if Miss Sharpe doesn't show, I have my parents nearby to supervise me."
"If Miss Sharpe is unavoidably detained again, she'll have to answer to me," Grandmother muttered. She studied me for a long moment, then said, "Very well. I suppose the idea of you left home alone to wreak whatever havoc and damage is too much of a risk. I'll send a note around to advise her of the change."
I glanced down at my feet, trying to hide the glow of victory from her. "Thank you, Grandmother. May I please be excused now?"
"What do you have to do that's so important you must leave?" Grandmother asked.
"Nothing--I was just going to ... write an essay! For Miss Sharpe. Discussing Britain's supreme naval power."
155
"I say, what a good idea, that," the admiral said.
Grandmother blinked, and then her face softened. "I agree. An excellent idea. Get to it, then."
Mother followed me out into the hall. "Theo? Can I have a word with you before you start on your essay?"
"But of course, Mother." She beckoned me to follow her a short way down the hall. When we were far enough away from Father's office, she leaned down closer to me. I could plainly see the exhaustion and worry on her face: the fine lines around her eyes, the slight crease of worry on her brow, the pale shadows under her eyes. Poor Mum!
"I just wanted you to know we'll be spending the night here tonight. Your father is determined to camp out and see for himself who is bringing all those mummies here and what their purpose is. I've sent around for some supper, but I wanted to let you know."
"Oh, excellent! What time shall I meet you and Father in the sitting room?" A nice, cozy family dinner was just the thing I needed to bolster my spirits.
"I don't think we'll have time for that, Theo. This whole mummy fiasco has put us too far behind. We'll just all eat on the run tonight, shall we?"
"Very well, Mum." I refused to allow myself to be disappointed. This would give me plenty of opportunity to take care of our staff problem, after all.
156
***
By this time, it was well past dark. I'd never been down to the catacombs after dark before. Who knew how many spells and curses down there came alive at night? Hundreds, probably.
Which meant I needed to wear as much protection as possible. There was only one amulet I knew of that would keep me safe in these circumstances, but it belonged to the museum. I normally didn't use it, but this time it seemed warranted. The Blood of Isis.
After the goddess Isis tricked the sun god Ra into giving her his real name, which she used to learn all available magical knowledge, she was attacked by Seth as she tried to protect her husband Osiris's body. The Egyptians believed that where her blood hit the ground, it formed jasper, a semiprecious stone they revered for its magical properties. According to them, jasper and carnelian both held all the magical power that ran through Isis's veins. So, between all the new mut and akhu (not to mention mummies) invading our museum, I wouldn't mind a little of Isis's power right now. One could never have too much protection against restless spirits. Besides, being Osiris's consort, if anything would have a calming influence over the dead, it would be her.
As I headed across the darkened foyer, I heard it. The
157
rustling and groaning of the mut and akhu. Only, it was louder tonight. My mind flew back to the rows and rows of mummies that had been in the museum earlier that day. Who knew how many of them had been the victim of a violent death?
I quickened my steps. Even if they hadn't died horribly, surely their spirits were highly disgruntled at being paraded around London and disturbed from their resting places again and again. And once spirits became disgruntled, they became restless, and once they were restless, they might not be interested in returning to the realm of the dead until they felt they'd been avenged.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark shadow. My hand had crept halfway to my amulets before I recognized it as the mummy formerly known as Tetley. All the other mummies were gone, except him. Lord Chudleigh had most likely instructed Dolge and Sweeny to leave him here for Father to deal with, rather than have to take care of his own mistake.
Besides, what did one do with a fake mummy, anyway? I must say, I felt rather sorry for Tetley. Sorrier than I'd ever felt for him when he was alive.
However, that was not my problem. Not tonight, anyway.
Eager to be away from the restless dead and the mummified Tetley, I took the stairs up to the Egyptian exhibit two
158
at a time. Once there, I hurried over to the low glass display table. The Blood of Isis amulet lay on a black velvet backing. The flickering electric light gleamed off the burnished gold, making the red stone glow like an ember from a fire. Just looking at it made me feel safer.
I went around to the back of the case, removed the pin, then slid the door open and reached inside the cabinet.
Was it just my imagination, or was there a warmth emanating from my hand where I touched the amulet?
I pulled it out and closed the display case so no one would
see that it had been opened. I planned to have the amulet back by morning, so hopefully no one would ever know that I had borrowed it.
As I worked to string the amulet onto an old bootlace, I felt a faint draft across my face, then heard a soft rustling and creaking sound. I froze and forced myself to look up, very glad I had the Blood of Isis amulet clutched in my hand. My gaze fell on the mummy nearest me, and I saw that it didn't look as stiff as usual. Then the one next to it, Henuttawy, an unwrapped mummy from the New Kingdom, shifted on her discolored, bony feet. The creaking and popping and rustling grew louder and I realized the moon must have risen. The mummies were beginning to answer the call of the staff! I had to deactivate it now, before they all began marching downstairs.
159
I shoved the bootlace back into my pocket and, clutching the Blood of Isis in my hand, made a mad dash for the catacombs.
I stepped into the stairwell to the basement and paused. Faint whisperings rustled through the dark air below me. Quickly, I reached out and turned up the gas lamps, which did a surprisingly poor job of penetrating the shadows. Still grasping the Blood of Isis in one hand, I made my way down the stairs. The air grew colder, my arms and back prickling with the chill.
Or maybe something else was causing my uneasiness-- best not to think about that right now.
When I reached the bottom stair, I paused. Everything felt so different in the dark, which made no sense, because it was dark down here even during the daytime. But that was Egyptian magic for you. The truth was, the mut and akhu down here were thick enough to spread on toast. (When I was lucky enough to get morning toast, that is.)
I took another step into the room and felt something watching me. I peered into the gloom and found the jackal statue staring straight at me. I froze, afraid he might leap off the shrine.