by Raven, Sandy
Lucky nodded. "How soon could you have a final drawing and specifications list for review? I'm prepared to sign a contract before I sail back next week. Ian and I will have a narrow window of time to prepare for the upcoming tea run."
"Are you certain you've decided then?"
"I've seen all I need to convince me. You should know that your shipyard was Ian's first and only choice, as he's more familiar with the business side of construction. Though he did leave the decision to me, whether I choose another firm or stay with yours. I think he knew once I came here and saw your finished product I would go no place else."
He let the man know that he'd walked around his yard the day before, observing the construction and placement of ribs of the hull on the ways, and had gone onto the nearly finished construction to scrutinize the appointments. He also let him know that he'd done some asking around about his business practices at the local merchants, and the local bank he'd chosen to perhaps hold the funds for construction. "Everyone speaks highly of your firm, Mr. Watkins. I feel safe with the decision and think it shall be a pleasure to have you as our shipbuilder."
"Excellent," the elder man said as the two shook hands. "Let's ask Mrs. Watkins about her schedule for drawings." The man called for his wife, and when she opened the door and stepped in, the room suddenly got smaller and much, much warmer. "Mrs. Watkins, tonight we celebrate with champagne, for we are the new shipbuilders for the Empire Tea Importers." For just a fraction of a moment, Lucky thought he saw surprise flash in her eyes, then she smiled and congratulated them both.
"Captain Gualtiero is asking about your time frame for drawings, specifications lists, and such for him to sign off on, so we can get contracts written and he can be on his way to China."
Mrs. Watkins glanced out toward the drafting table in the other room, back at her husband, then at Lucky. "I already have some preliminary work I sketched last night, as I knew you were coming this morning."
She excused herself and returned with a large sheet of paper which she spread over her husband's desk. "Of course, I didn't know what layout you wished for accommodations, so this is a very rough design. But I've given you one hundred and eighty feet. Any longer and she may appear under-sparred."
Lucky looked at the intricate graphite drawing before him. It was beautiful to the point of breathtaking.
"This design has a long, raised quarter-deck and traditional American forecastle to give the illusion she's more in balance." Mrs. Watkins glanced at her husband, then at Lucky. "She's a solid wood hull and fully loaded she'll do eighteen to twenty knots easily, all day long. Well, with wind of course." She pointed to the breadth of the hull. "Also, I've increased your cargo capacity by approximately seventy percent."
Lucky could only stare at the drawing, mouth agape. It was perfect. Well, if there were any such thing as the perfect ship. The vessel sketched on paper appeared well-balanced and sleek in design. He began to imagine the reality of this vessel. "How do you know..." he began, unsure of what question it was he really wanted to ask.
"I did the calculations," she stated, as though he should have known that fact.
"My dear, I'm sure Captain Gualtiero is not interested in the actual formulas you use," Mr. Watkins said to his wife. "What he wants to know is when you might have official drawings for him to sign-off on."
"If I start now," she began, as she turned her golden brown-eyed gaze on Lucky for approval, sending his heart to skipping beats, "I should have it in... two days? I've finished the project I was working on, and I'm now free to work solely on this one."
"For finishes and such," Mr. Watkins said, "you'll need to sit with Mrs. Watkins and go over each appointment and decide the material and design. That alone will take an entire day as she lists each item on the specifications sheet for the different tradesmen in the yard. The contracts should be ready on Friday, late morning. I'll have Frank Baxter bring them over, along with someone to act as witness to the signatures."
Lucky again felt as though he'd stepped into a completely different world, one unfamiliar to his European sensibilities. Since when did a man's gentle wife work alongside him in a business such as this? Sometimes this country felt completely foreign to him. The language was the same, but the mores and business practices were more liberal than what he was accustomed to. "I look forward to working with you both," he replied, wondering if his world was about to turn upside down because of his fascination with this auburn-haired beauty. The one who was going to design the ships that would help him build his future.
"To seal the deal, you must come for dinner Friday night, as I leave for the farm on Saturday," Mr. Watkins said. "It's already past time for me to go inland to beat this heat. We shall have Sally prepare her delicious crab soup, and for dessert, her pecan pie. Many cooks can make both, but trust me when I say none in the world is better than my Sally's." He backed his chair away from the desk. "Mrs. Watkins, perhaps you can learn what the Captain might like as a main course and see that it gets on the dinner menu."
"I will do that, Mr. Watkins," Mrs. Watkins said from her seat across the desk from her husband.
"Well." The elder man stood and came out from behind his desk. "I'm off to take care of some other business. I shall see you at home later, my dear." The old man's benevolent smile at his young wife made Lucky hate himself at the directions his thought took each time he caught a glance of the woman.
She rolled her drawing, then straightened. "Yes, sir. I think I shall be home early, so I can begin working on this project." She turned to Lucky. "Do you have some time so we can go over some of your requirements for cabins, crew quarters and galley appointments? Knowing that will help me with creating the main deck layout."
He nodded and rose as Mr. Watkins excused himself, but before leaving the room, Watkins gave Lucky a wink as he made his way toward the stairwell, "Feel free to use my office, Mrs. Watkins."
Lucky quickly glanced back at Mrs. Watkins and for a fraction of a moment, he thought he saw fear, or perhaps uncertainty cross her brow. He hoped she wasn't afraid of being alone with him. God alone knew he'd never harm her. Quite the opposite, he wanted to bring her to his cabin and worship her body until the sun rose the following morning.
"I always do, Mr. Watkins," she replied.
Lucky noticed she treated her husband as an employer, rather than a husband or partner, which again made him wonder at the nature of their relationship. But, when it came right down to it, it didn't matter. The earthy and intelligent Mrs. Watkins had a husband who was a likable enough man. He was a man Lucky could respect and admire for his accomplishments. And Lucky had a long held stipulation when it came to dallying with married women—if the man was a friend he wouldn't tup the wife.
This woman might be the one and only time he ever violated his own rule.
Mary-Michael smiled and turned to their new client. "I have an idea. Since it is already starting to get warm in here, perhaps you might like to walk through Ajax, as she is nearly done. You can get a feel for the fittings and layout, then tell me what you like and dislike."
Captain Gualtiero loosened the top button of his shirt and nodded. Mary-Michael was fascinated by the indentation revealed at the base of his throat when he parted the starched white collar. Sometimes she wished she could do the same, but no respectable woman would do anything of the sort. What she could do, though, was remove the jacket that was causing her discomfort. So she unbuttoned it and slid it off, hanging it on the coat rack in the corner of her office. Immediately she felt much more comfortable in her short-sleeved blouse. Placing her wide-brimmed hat on her head, she cleared her throat and collected her graphite pencil and writing board with a few sheets of paper. "Let's take a walk, Captain."
They left her husband's office and walked past Andrew Nawton, who worked on another client's final drawings. Mary-Michael took the opportunity to introduce their draftsman to their new client, letting the captain know that this was the man who would produce the duplicates of her orig
inals. "Like all the tradesman in our company, Mr. Nawton is the best at what he does."
They continued down the hallway and stairs to the main doors where her very handsome new client held the door open for her. Mary-Michael thanked him, calling him captain. Her breath caught in her chest when she detected his fresh soap-and-water scent as she walked past him. She caught his gaze as she passed and he smiled, causing her knees to weaken.
"Please, call me Lucky."
She felt an odd clenching in the vicinity of her lower belly. It was too soon. Even if she was going to wind up in his bed for that much-desired infant, it was too soon to give him this much intimacy. "I've never been on a Christian-name basis with a client before, Captain, and to address you in such a familiar manner goes against my upbringing."
"I'm sorry. I only thought to make the conversation flow more comfortably between us," he replied, the soft timbre of his voice revealing a trace of an accent other than English.
Mary-Michael let the comment pass. She wasn't going to enter into any conversation with him that did not pertain one hundred percent to the construction of his two clippers. Not yet. She led the way toward Ajax, knowing he followed. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her back. She realized perhaps she wasn't dressed in the most conventional of clothes, but she had a job that entailed a great deal of outdoor supervision, walking and climbing. A woman couldn't do what she had to do daily, wearing a dress. Which is why she always wore breeks or trousers to the shipyard.
"One at a time up the plank. I'll go first." She strode onto the board they used as a gangplank and walked onto the main deck, her client behind her.
"I'm amazed that you did that so effortlessly," he said with a hint of admiration in his voice.
She would not succumb to his charm. She would not. "Captain, I climb aboard this boat every day. Just as I will climb aboard your boat every day while it is under construction. It's how I know the quality of work coming from our yard is the best it can be. And, if I may be allowed to brag, among the finest in the world."
"Have you ever fallen into the water?"
"Of course. The last time was two years ago, after we'd had a cold night. I didn't think it was cold enough to ice, but I stepped on the plank, slipped, and fell in. Because of that fall, every winter we now have a bucket of sand at the base of the ramp. First man up spreads sand for those who follow. And we continue to spread sand until the sun melts the ice."
"Ingenious."
"No, Captain Gualtiero, practical." She smiled at him. "If you wish to know anything about me at all, sir, it's that I am very practical."
Mary-Michael began the tour of the topside structures in the fo'c'sle, getting his opinions on the arrangement she'd designed here. Her head easily cleared the overhead, while her companion had to duck his head. "This is a general cargo clipper. The difference in design is not noticed up here but rather below, in the hold. The owner does not plan to house crewmen in this area under the anchor deck, but livestock for consumption." She pointed out the chicken coop on one side and the pens for pigs and sheep on the other. "There are two privies forward, one rear, and one in each of her two cabins." She delicately tapped a foot on the fore hatch as they came back into the light. "This opens to the sail locker which we will see from below." They continued toward the rear of the vessel and she pointed up for him to see the placement of the lifeboats on the roof of the deckhouse. "This freed up space on the main deck and got them out of the way. There will also be two gigs in the rear."
Seeing him stop and look into the glass of the deckhouse, Mary-Michael asked, "Would you like to go inside?" When he nodded, she opened the door and held it for him. "As I mentioned, this is a general cargo ship. The owner wanted his galley midship, in the deckhouse. So that is the entirety of this area." She pointed out the sandbox and coal box, and the space in the center for the cast iron stove placement. Construction of the tables and benches was underway, and she introduced the new client to the carpenters before moving toward the rear of the ship.
"Ajax, as you can see, is one hundred and sixty feet, has a raised quarter deck with two cabins and crew quarters below." She led the way down into the saloon. "Since you're looking at one hundred and eighty feet, my recommendation is a long, raised quarter deck." She met his gaze again but she was in control of her emotions this time, because she was talking about one of her creations, her life's work. "You have the room for it. And within that long deck, you can have two very large cabins, or four nice-sized cabins. You could also make them smaller, say six or eight small cabins, with just berths to sleep up to four in each."
"Neither of us plans to transport passengers. That is not our business. But we did both want two well-appointed, large cabins." He looked around at the furnishings of the saloon. "I think a common area such as this with a dining table and library would be nice." He ran a hand along the leather cushions and looked up at the skylight. "Brilliant idea."
"Thank you. Tell me what you think so far." It was easier for her to think of him as just another client, rather than someone who rattled her nerves. Someone whose very presence made her skin hypersensitive to his proximity and made her heart race each time he looked her way. She hoped these feelings would subside the more she worked with him and was around him. So far what she was finding was the opposite. In fact, the more time she spent with him, and the more comfortable she got being around him, the more her entire body would quiver under his scrutiny. She sometimes caught him eying her in an odd manner and it discomfited her. Yet she desired it. Wanted more of it.
"I'm very impressed." His words sent a swell of pride surging through her. His hand trailed along a fiddle rail of the bookcase. "The fittings, the brass, leather, and ivory are exceptional, but what I find the most impressive are the innovative changes made to the placement of galley, the hold for livestock, and cabins. I'm sure I will be equally surprised when I see the below deck areas."
"I hope so," she replied. "We are very proud of the work we do. Customization to the client's needs is not an obstacle to doing the job."
After looking through the cabins and seeing the finishings, they went topside again to see the steering deck arrangements, the wheel, the wheel housing, and mechanicals. Then they began their tour below in the various cargo holds.
"Even though the hull and supports are of solid wood," she began, "I like to use iron knees for stability." He appeared to not understand so she explained. "When we build longer ships, we need extra strengthening on the long axis, so I use diagonal bracing in here and extra keel pieces in the keel construction." She continued toward the center flooring where the mainmast tied in. "My design also uses side keelsons, to strengthen the bottom under the mainmast."
Mary-Michael stopped to point out rib construction and placement. "I'm not sure that you can tell, but as we move forward, rib placement is closer together, adding strength to the entire structure, most especially to the keel. Doing this reduces the severity of hogging a great deal, but cannot eliminate it entirely."
She looked to the captain, trying to gauge how likely he was to allow her to experiment with the construction of his ships. "Captain, I have an idea that I would like to try, and if you are willing to allow me to experiment, I think your ships would be perfect for testing my latest idea."
"What would that be?"
"I would like to try alternating wooden and iron ribs in your hull structures. I believe it will make the structure even stronger. And as we are building two sisters of exact same length and appointments, I think building one with and one without the iron would definitely allow me to monitor how they handle and how they weather over the years." Mary thought he looked interested, yet skeptical. "There will be no difference in the cargo capacity, no difference in cost to your company, as this is something I am currently researching for future ships I design."
"Will it add much weight to the structure?"
"Not enough to be significant, I assure you." He studied the ribs in front of them. Ajax was a fine sh
ip, one of the finest she'd built to date, one which he could surely find no fault. Just when she thought for sure he would pass on her proposition, he surprised her.
"I will try your idea, on one, mine. For Ian, give him the conventional wood, and we shall see if there is any difference in how they handle and weather as they age."
Mary-Michael's heart soared. She released her pent-up breath. Relieved that finally she'd found someone who believed in the science of architecture enough to trust her design.
"Thank you, Captain. I appreciate you allowing me to build this."
"I think your idea has merit, Mrs. Watkins," her client said.
"I would think that if you sent me a letter each time you had hull work done, detailing the degree of bend in the keel, or if there had been any warping, that would be enough for me to continue my research on preventing hogging. I do believe over time we shall see more iron used in hull construction of the ocean-going sailing ships. Iron hulls are already in use in paddle wheelers and canal barges. I truly believe the innovations that are in the works for ship design and building will revolutionize the industry."
Captain Gualtiero followed slowly as she led them back toward the ladder. "I agree, Mrs. Watkins."
She motioned for him to go ahead of her. "You go first."
"That goes against my code of chivalry," he replied.
"Oh, go on." She nudged him, hoping to get another look at his well-muscled bottom while he climbed, something she'd never considered before meeting this man.
"What if you fall?" He placed a foot on the lower rung and grabbed a rung above his head.
"I haven't fallen from a ladder in the nearly seven years I've been here, Captain. I won't be falling today, I assure you."