on the heated metal would have aggravated the damage done by heat
distortion and buckling.
The metal of the main bearing casting was still so hot when the Chief
Engineer began opening it up, that it scorched the thick leather and
asbestos gloves worn by his team.
The bearing shells had disintegrated, and the shaft itself was brutally
scored and pitted. If there was distortion, the Chief knew it would not
be detected by eye. However, even a buckling of one ten thousandth of
an inch would be critical.
He cursed softly as he worked, nuking the obscenities sound like a
lullaby; he cursed the manufacturers of the lubricating pump, the men
who had installed and tested it, the damaged gland and the lack of a
back-up system, but mostly he cursed the stubbornness and intractability
of the Chairman of Christy Marine whose ill-advised judgement had turned
this functionally beautiful machinery into blackened smoking twisted
metal.
It was mid-morning by the time the Chief had the spare bearing shells
brought up from stores and unpacked from their wood shavings in the
wooden cases; but it was only when they came to fit them that they
realized that the cases had been incorrectly stencilled. The
half-shells that they contained were obsolete non-metric types, and they
were five millimetres undersized for Golden Dawn's shaft that tiny
variation in size made them utterly useless.
It was only then that Duncan Alexander's steely urbane control began to
crack; he raged about the bridge for twenty minutes making no effort to
think his way out of the predicament, but abusing Randle and his
engineer in wild and extravagant terms. His rage had a paralysing
affect on all Golden Dawn's officers and they stood white-faced and
silently guilty.
Peter Berg had sensed the excitement and slipped up unobtrusively to
watch. He was fascinated by his stepfather's rage. He had never seen a
display like it before, and at one stage he hoped that Duncan
Alexander's eyeballs might actually burst like over-ripe grapes; he held
his breath in anticipation, and felt cheated when it did not happen.
At last, Duncan stopped and ran both hands through his thick waving
hair; two spikes of hair stood up like devil's horns. He was still
panting but he had recovered partial control.
Now sir, what do you propose? he demanded of Randle, and in the silence
Peter Berg piped up.
You could have new shells sent from Bermuda - it's only three hundred
miles away. We checked it this morning., How did you get in here?
Duncan swung round. Get back to your mother, Peter scampered, appalled
at his own indiscretion, and only when he left the bridge did the Chief
speak.
We could have spares flown out from London to Bermuda There must be a
boat -'Randle cut in swiftly.
Or an aircraft to drop it to us Or a helicopter Get Christy Main on the
telex/ snapped Duncan Alexander.
it was good to have a deck under his feet again, Nicholas exulted.
He felt himself coming fully alive again.
