“Looking good. Boilers are steaming, coal bunkers are full, water tanks are topped, sooties working hard. It’s a good crew and a well-stocked situation.”

“Your estimate of first-needed refuelling?”

“We should be fine for a week at least. More if we catch the right aether currents and can use the mainsail rather than the propeller.”

“Good. Cook’s stores estimate matches that – let’s try to keep it that way, shall we? Speaking of currents, Professor Tunstell, have you charted our course?”

Percy pulled out a rolled map and plopped it down on the table. He attempted to unroll it several times but it kept snapping shut. Rue signalled to the others and they all grabbed the edges on his fourth try, holding it open for him. Without a thank you, Percy bent over the image now displayed.

It was a peculiar-looking thing, a rough sketch of England, Europe, and the Mediterranean overlaid with arrowed swirls and lines. “We’re making for the Maltese Tower,” said Percy, pointing. “If we can catch the Gibraltar Loop south and then the Mediterranean Shifter west, we could make it there in two days. That’s our ideal course. If we miss the transfer puff, we can take the European Flow here and shoot for the Constantinople Tower instead. It’s further away but we should make it in three days, four at most. It’s the current-hops we have to worry about.”

Quesnel interrupted, giving the navigator a critical look. “How’s your hop technique?”

Percy arched an eyebrow. “Perfect, of course. In theory. The ship had better handle smoothly.”

Quesnel could play that game. “Smoother than butter, as long as your probe points are accurate.”

“Of course they’re accurate! Are you accusing me of not researching the aetherosphere properly?”

“I’m accusing you of inexperience.”

“Oh, and you’ve floated a ship of this size and design regularly over long distances, have you?”

Rue banged her free hand down on the map-covered table top. “Gentlemen. Enough. None of us has done this before and all of us are likely to make mistakes. Including me. Well, except Primrose, of course. She’s perfect.”

Prim blushed. “Aw, Rue – too kind.”

Rue soldiered on. “The important thing is to act within the best of our knowledge and with confidence in front of the crew. We must look like we have done this before. And do try to get along in public.” She stood to emphasise her point. She hadn’t her mother’s figure but she wasn’t a delicate creature either. Rue knew how to get a gentlemen’s attention, and she wasn’t averse to using that skill in her capacity as captain. She drew a deep breath. Both Percy and Quesnel sat up straighter in their chairs and stopped glaring at each other to glare at her instead.