So saying, Captain Brookes led the way to the half-deck, whence by the after ladder he gained the quarter-deck. Unlike ships of the British Dreadnought type, the quarter-deck was situated in the after end of the ship, but Gerald noticed that the officers who were walking up and down kept religiously to the port side, leaving the starboard side to the use of the captain. This caused him to wonder how the similarity between the customs of the Royal Navy and those of the mysterious ship was to be accounted for. Touching his cap to the quarter-deck Gerald found himself upon a vessel apparently of not less than 10,000 tons displacement, or a little more than half of a modern Dreadnought. She was, as far as he could judge, about 300ft. in length, and 60ft. in breadth. She was flush decked; a low slender funnel, a motor cutter and launch, a massive conning-tower, a pair of turrets, and the necessary hatchways and companions alone occupying the centre line. Placed _en echelon_ were two more turrets, but in none of these were guns mounted, although each turret had two embrasures. At frequent intervals along the deck were plates of thin steel inclined at an angle of 45degs. "These are wind screens," observed Captain Brookes. "They are an absolute necessity, I can assure you." "Don't hesitate to put any questions you may feel inclined to ask," he continued. "It will be to your interests as well as mine for you to do so. I noticed you were looking at the turrets. These are as yet without their armament, although I hope within a day or two to have the guns in position." "Then at present you are without means of offence?" "You will hardly care to make that assertion when you have completed your first inspection of the _Olive Branch_. But what speed do you think we are doing?" Tregarthen looked over the side. There was a long, gentle swell setting in from the west, but so great was the ship's rate of speed that she appeared to be travelling over a succession of short, steep seas, yet without the faintest suspicion of a roll or a lurch. "Forty-five," he hazarded. "Add twenty to it and you will be nearer the mark. Mr. Gimlette," he added, addressing the officer of the watch, "will you please let me have the present reading of the log?" The officer ran aft to where the patent log indicator on the taffrail was merrily ringing at less than every fifteen seconds. "Sixty-seven point five knots, sir." The reply was given smartly, but in a manner that suggested this speed was an ordinary occurrence. Tregarthen could only gasp in astonishment. It meant the _Olive Branch_ was doing an equivalent to a fraction under seventy-five land miles an hour. Were it not for the wind screens it would be almost a matter of impossibility to face the hurricane that whistled overhead.