"Not much chance," laughed their guide; "every part of the ship, huge as it is, is visited at least once a day by some officer. Not a corner is allowed to escape notice."
Suddenly the boatswain's mate plunged downward through a very narrow square opening, which seemed almost too small to admit his body.
The boys followed, though for a moment they had been quite startled at his sudden disappearance.
"This is a part of the ship no stout man can ever hope to penetrate," said their guide, as he clambered down a steel ladder, which the opening, through which he had crawled, led to.
"I should say not," muttered Herc, squeezing through. "It doesn't speak very much for navy food," he added to himself, "if all the sailors can squeeze through such a place as this."
At the bottom of the ladder they found themselves in a small chamber, looking not unlike the central office of a telephone exchange. It was quite hot, owing to its proximity to the boiler room.
Everywhere wires ran, with head-pieces, like those worn by operators, dangling from them. Small bells were affixed to the steel bulkhead, and a system of tiny signal lights was arranged above them.
"This is the place from which the fire is directed after the commands have been sent from the fire-control well," explained their guide. "As you see, it works like a telephone exchange. In action, an officer and four men are stationed here to attend to the signals."
"Are we under the water-line now?" asked Ned breathlessly.
"We are now twenty feet below the surface of the river," replied the boatswain's mate.