The boatswain's mate took them through much the same maze of steel-walled passages and heavy doors as had the messenger. After descending three decks and traversing the stern of the ship, they were shown the mighty tiller and the mechanical apparatus connecting with the wheel-house, where the steam-steering gear was installed. Then they were hurried along forward. Not, however, before the officer had shown them the emergency steam-steering gear, far below the water-line, which could be used in case a shot disabled the guiding apparatus above decks.
Forward they were conducted up steel steps onto the gun deck, and thence to a passage under the bridge and chart room, from which they emerged onto the edge of a sort of steel "well," sunk immediately below the center of the bridge.
"There are the fire-controls," said the officer, pointing down into the "well" at a lot of shapeless apparatus swathed in heavy, waterproof cloth. "We keep the range-finders and other apparatus covered while we are in port or in a damp climate."
"The fire-controls?" echoed Herc, with half a suspicion that his unfortunate head was coming in as the subject of more joking. But it was not, as the next remark of the boatswain's mate showed him.
"The gunnery officer is seated in that well, with two orderlies, at battle practice, or in actual warfare," he explained. "He is screened there from the enemy's fire; but, through narrow slits cut in the steel, he sees what is going on about him, and telegraphs the range and directs the fire. His commands are transmitted to the gun-control room electrically, and thence to the turrets."
The boys listened with deep interest.
"We will now go below again and look at the gun-control room," said the boatswain's mate, as he trotted off once more.
"He must be made of the same material as the ship," groaned Herc, as the two boys followed him.
As before, they traversed innumerable passages, passing several officers on the way, whom they, of course, saluted. In each case the salutation was returned by a brief touch of the officer's fingers to his cap rim.
"If you'd ever get lost here, you could wander round for a week without finding your way out," grumbled Herc.