All along the riverbank, people came out of their hiding places.

They had heard the thirteen bongs of Big Ben.

They were ready for REVOLUTION!

On seeing the submarine surging along the Thames, with a Union Jack flying from its hull, cheers went up across London.

“HOORAY!”

The poor. The hungry. The homeless. Now was their time to fight back against the evil regime that had kept them living in fear for so long. They waved their own Union Jack flags high in the air.

With a loudspeaker, the Queen spoke from the hull of the submarine: “It is time for the Lord Protector’s evil dictatorship to end! We will tear down the flag of the griffin, and replace it with the flag of our great nation!”

“HOORAY!”

A portly man of Indian descent called out from the riverbank. He was waving a severely out-of-date bag of marshmallows, and shouting, “Anyone looking for a special offer on some delicious mallowmarshes?”

It was FUTURE RAJ! He was exactly the same as normal Raj, but his confectionery was even more out of date.

“Smile and wave, dear,” prompted the Queen. “Smile and wave. That’s what we royals do.”

Alfred, not used to being out in public, did as his mother said, even though it felt a bit silly.

ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!

It felt even sillier when more laser blasts from the airship above hit the submarine.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The Lord Protector’s flying machine was chasing them.

“QUICKLY! INSIDE! NOW!” shouted the boy, and he held his mother’s and Mite’s hands and led them down inside HMS Sceptre to safety.

The ladies-in-waiting found blankets for the two new arrivals and wrapped them up tight.

“The last time I saw you, Nanny was taking you to the palace kitchen to get some chocolate,” began Alfred. “How did you end up locked in the Tower of London?”

The little girl was shivering with cold. “I d-d-didn’t g-g-get n-n-no ch-ch-chocolate!”

“No?”

“I w-w-waited and-d-d w-w-waited. Th-th-then, n-n-next th-th-thing I kn-kn-know, the-the-the r-r-room is-s-s f-f-full of-f-f g-g-guards!”

The Queen began listening to the conversation.

“That’s strange,” said Alfred.

“Is-s-s it-t-t?” asked Mite.

Did the little girl know something he didn’t?

“Yes,” joined in the Queen. “It is strange. Nanny has been in the royal household for all her working life. She looked after my little Lionheart here.”

With that, she looked lovingly at her son and stroked his hair.

Alfred glowed with embarrassment that his mother was doing this in front of the girl.

“I d-d-don’t tr-tr-trust her one b-b-bit,” said Mite.

The boy went deep into his mind.

There were some things about Nanny that were hard to explain.

Why did he feel so much better now he wasn’t eating her eggy-wegg every morning?

Why did Nanny insist on locking him in his bedroom?

Why did she not believe him about the statue of the griffin being used in the ritual, even when he found his father’s blood on it?

As quickly as Alfred had had these thoughts, he dismissed them. Nanny had cared for him since he was a baby, the King before him too – there was no way she could be involved in the Lord Protector’s evil plans. The last Alfred had heard, the wicked man was interrogating her!

“Where to, Captain?” asked Enid, waking the boy up from his daydream.

“Buckingham Palace!” replied the prince. “Full speed ahead. We must get there before all of London does.”

“Goodness, yes,” agreed the Queen. “I fear the angry mob will tear my husband limb from limb. They will blame the King for this tyrannical rule, and not the real villain, the Lord Protector.”

“We must save the King,” called out the prince.

“Full speed ahead to the palace!” shouted Agatha.

Alfred took his place at the periscope. Looking through it, he spied platoons of royal guards taking positions on Westminster Bridge. If the gang tried to disembark from the submarine at that point, there would be a massacre.

“Blast!” said the prince. “We are not going to be able to get close to the palace.”

“It’s impossible,” agreed the Queen.

There were murmurs of agreement from the old dears.

Mite spoke up. “It’s not impossible. I know a way.”

“You don’t mean…?” began Alfred.

“The Tube tunnel I swam up!” exclaimed the girl.

“But would a submarine fit?”

“It should do,” she replied. “This thing is about the same size as one of those old Tube trains. I just need to show you the place where the tunnel meets the Thames.”

Enid unrolled a map of London, and Mite began trying to make sense of it all. Finally, she pointed to a spot and shouted, “THERE! RIGHT OPPOSITE THE LONDON EYE!”

The ladies all gathered around to study the map.

“There, deep under the water level, is a giant hole. It must have been created by an explosion. That’s the way into the Tube tunnel!”

All the old dears shook their heads.

“What?” demanded Mite.

“You can’t pilot a submarine up the !” exclaimed Enid.

“If it’s wide enough, then why not?” asked Alfred. “Otherwise, we’ll be nothing but target practice for the royal guards.”

“That’s a big if,” muttered Agatha.

“Look,” began Alfred, “we don’t have time to argue about this. For all we know, the griffin could be about to destroy all of London!”

There were mutters of agreement from all the ladies-in-waiting.

“The prince is right,” said Enid.

“Ladies!” began Agatha. “Let’s do this!”

“To your stations!” commanded Alfred.

“That’s my boy!” the Queen proclaimed proudly.

In moments, HMS Sceptre was surging through the water towards the entrance to the Tube tunnel.

Using the ancient radar…

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

…the exact location of the hole was found.

It was just, just, just wider than HMS Sceptre herself.

Expert navigation was needed to prevent the submarine from becoming jammed. If HMS Sceptre did become stuck, then they would all die a slow and painful death.

“Hold tight, ladies!” called out the prince. “We’re going in!”

DUMF!

The submarine shuddered as it scraped the side of the entrance to the tunnel.

All eyes turned to the prince, who was trying his best to keep his cool.

CRUNCH!

Another knock.

“HOLD HER STEADY!” he ordered.

Enid held the steering wheel tightly, sweat pouring from her brow. Agatha mopped it up with a lace handkerchief.

DUNK!

Another hit.

“Hold her steady.”

The submarine began passing up the Tube tunnel itself.

“HURRAH!” shouted the ladies.

The plan was working.

HMS Sceptre edged closer and closer to the palace.

Then… KERRUNCH!

The submarine lurched to a halt.

Horror upon horror, they were stuck!

“BACKWARDS!” ordered the prince.

There was a deafening grinding noise.

GGGGGRRRRR!

But the submarine didn’t budge.

CRUNCH!

“FORWARD!”

Again, there was nothing but an earsplitting noise.

GGGGGRRRRR!

GRONCH!

“BACKWARDS!”

GGGGGRRRRR!

KERRUMPH!

It didn’t move an inch.

Then, in an instant, the submarine was plunged into DARKNESS.

The lights on board had failed.

They were doomed.