Sophronia looked down at her front. The crisp white of her apron was covered in smudges. “You’re probably right.”
In the bright light of the morning sun, Sophronia noticed something else about her new friend. He wasn’t simply dirty; he was actually black. Sophronia had heard, of course, of people with odd-colored skin, but she’d only seen pictures in her papa’s books. She’d never actually met one before. But Soap is just like normal boy!
She wasn’t certain it was polite to mention, but she couldn’t help herself. “Why, you’re all over soot-colored by nature!”
“Yes, miss. A creature from darkest Africa. Wooo, wooo.” He weaved his head around, pretending to be a ghost.
Sophronia had read about Africa. This was a subject upon which she was fully conversant. “Oh, my, is that where you’re from?”
“No, miss. Tooting Bec, South London.” At which he returned to the noisy, musty darkness of the boiler room.
Sophronia made her way back to her quarters safely from balcony to deck, spending only a brief time running through the hallway. No one was awake upon her return except Bumbersnoot. He was absolutely delighted by the piece of coal and dish of water she placed before him. He nibbled and slurped away happily, tooting small gusts of appreciative steam. Sophronia changed her pinafore and checked the state of her face and hands. Luckily, the maids had brought in the washing water and, being mechanicals, had not registered her empty bed. After much scrubbing, most of the boiler room’s smudges were eliminated.
She practiced batting her eyelashes in the small hand mirror for the next half hour, until Dimity finally awoke.
“You’ll never guess what I did!” said Sophronia while her friend blinked blearily and stretched.
“No, probably not. Could I wake up first, please?”
“Certainly.” At which Sophronia paused. She had no idea how to dispose of her dirty bathing water. At home, she would have simply tossed it out the window, but here there was no window to their chamber. She excused herself, took it to the privy, and returned to hand the basin to Dimity.
Dimity poured herself some fresh water out of the pitcher and said, “Well?”
“I visited the land of soot and fire.”
“Sophronia, really. Do you mean to traumatize me with riddles first thing in the morning? If so, I should warn you, I’d consider that grounds for rescinding all offers of friendship.”
“It’s almost noon. I’ve been up for ages.”
“A habit you may come to regret.” But then Dimity put it all together. She emerged from washing her face with a gasp. “Sophronia! Did you visit the boiler room?”
“Yes!” Sophronia casually leaned back on both elbows.
“You aren’t allowed to do that!”
“So I learned.”
“But all the engine parts down there are exposed. A girl can see exactly how things work. It’s undignified.”
“It’s full of boys.”
Dimity paused, giving that statement its due consideration. “Yes, but the wrong class of boy, to be sure? I really wouldn’t if I were you. Terribly bad for one’s reputation. Then again, I don’t suppose there are any proper boys on board this school at all.”
“Not unless you count Professor Braithwope.”
“Certainly not. Now, Captain Niall, mind you, I’d count him.”
A knock came at their door. Sidheag stuck her head in. “Breakfast in ten minutes.” The tall girl looked much the same as she had the day before—her dress dowdy and her hair in one simple braid. She positively lounged against the doorjamb.
Sophronia wondered how she would fare during posture class.
“We won’t have him for a few days at least,” said the Lady of Kingair.
“Have who?”
“Captain Niall, of course.”
“Have him for what?”
“Lessons, silly. Did you think they only kept him on retainer for ground support?” With which the tall girl drifted away.
Sophronia and Dimity exchanged startled looks.
“What on earth could we girls possibly learn from a werewolf?” Sophronia wondered.
“How to keep a hat on no matter what the circumstances?” hazarded Dimity.
“We need to nip to the post,” Sophronia stated firmly as they left breakfast.
“We do?” Dimity was confused.
“My soiled glove, remember?” She produced the offending article from her reticule.
“Oh, yes, we were going to send it to my problematical brother for analysis. I should warn you, it’s unlikely anything will come of it. He’s very forgetful, my brother. Rather a nascent absentminded academic.”
Sophronia hesitated a moment, and then approached one of the older girls. “Pardon me, could you point us in the direction of the postal service?”
The girl looked down her nose at her. “Head steward handles that.”
“And where would I find him?”
“Steward’s quarters, of course,” she said and turned away.
I guess we have been dismissed. “Dimity, any idea where the steward’s quarters might be?”
Dimity cocked her head. “Well, on a boat it’s one of the upper decks, midship, you know, to catch people boarding and the like.”
“But we boarded from below.”
“True.”
Sophronia frowned. The steward would be in charge of all the mechanicals for servicing and maintenance, as well as all the human household staff. “We need to find the main hub.”