The Ways Between Worlds: Peter Cooper

by Larry E. Clarke

  Novera was crying aloud, Leeta and Gresell looked shocked and I was a bit misty-eyed myself. I felt as if I'd just heard my grandparents announce they were loosing the family farm.

  "Until the day of the races we will carry on as usual" He went on. "Each of you will receive your full wages until then but it would be prudent to be looking for other work. The Inns will be filled during the festival and the other innkeepers should be glad to have experienced help. Leave when you have found another position. We understand.”

  Molton nodded her agreement, wiped a tear on a corner of her apron and waved us to a table in the corner where the tavern regulars sat at their especially reserved VIP table. Together they beckoned us to join them in a toast set up for the occasion.

  "To the old times...to the good times"

  Late into the night we sat, commiserating, talking, drinking. Perhaps I'd had a few too many. I remember saying at some point that where I came from they build boats that would make these river scows look like they were standing still, that if I had the crew to train and a hull to work with we could enter a boat that would be a shoo-in. . . or something like that.

  At breakfast the next morning Urs came to me.

  "Peter, how serious were you about us being able to enter a winning boat? You know the preliminary race is little more than two span away and we could never build a proper boat in that time. . . Still, ‘One does not cross a river without getting wet’."

  "You know that all of us care for you greatly Urs. . . .I spoke out of my wish to be of help. I honestly do not know if it can be done. I do have some ideas that could give us an edge but too many cups of fesha gave me more confidence than I feel this morning. In my country there are boats which are very fast, but I know only a little of them. If you and your friends want to try to consider another entry I will be happy to show them all that I know."

  Urs left Moltan to oversee the Vanu and he and I began a long walk along the waterfront areas. For hours we exchanged ideas on boats and on how “The Race” could still be run and won. I agreed to present some of these ideas to the entire boat club. As we walked each of us grew more and more excited. I felt like Mickey Rooney convincing the rest of the gang that they really could "put on a show in the barn". A part of me was beginning to believe that it "really" could be done. Urs was as excited about the prospect as I was. I could not let him down now.

  That night Urs called the boat club members together in a back room of the Vanu reserved for private dinners and meetings. I stood at the front of the crowd feeling like some Madison Avenue type ready to promote a new breakfast cereal. Before me were 50 or so members. Most of them had known boats and known each other for years. Clumped together in groups of 3 or more I knew they must be talking about why Urs had insisted on this meeting on such short notice. I knew they also talked about why I, a relative stranger, was preparing to address them.

  Urs scanned the room, seemed satisfied that most --if not all-- had arrived, and strode forward. He raised his hands for quiet.

  "Friends and fellow members of the Ancient Order of Boatmen, I will get straight to the business of the evening. Standing beside me is Pe-tar, a friend and employee some of you have met. You know that he comes to us from distant land. In his land too they build and race boats. As Pe-tar himself would quickly tell you he is not a boatman. Nonetheless, he does know something of how the boats in his land are made and raced. Following the burning of our boat house I gave up any idea of entering this year’s races for I knew of no way in which a proper boat could be readied in time."

  Here, his audience gestured and muttered agreement to each other.

  Urs continued "...At least I thought that to be true. After talking with Pe-tar I believe there could be a way to enter a boat with a fair chance of winning. Like me many of you I have wagered heavily on our Water Rikki. If we do not enter a boat all our bets are forfeit."

  Again there was a general murmur of agreement

  "I will not say whether you should risk additional money on the idea Pe-tar will share with us. I do say you should hear with an open ear the plan he and I have discussed. At the end we shall take all your questions, hear your doubts, and finally ask for your decision about whether we can enter a boat which will not shame us."

  As Urs took his seat facing the crowd they stamped their feet in what constituted a polite round of applause. I read that as reflecting considerable regard for Urs, and considerable doubt that an upstart foreigner who had never built a boat in his life could show them how to ready one in a little more than two span of 12 days.

  Now it was my turn, I didn't have sufficient command of the language to be glib so I too came straight to the point. I knew that a friend's future and the positions Leeta, the Lady and I held rode on the ultimate outcome.

  "Members of the boat club. Although I am a stranger in your land you welcomed me to your company. I am thankful for your kindness and for the many kindnesses that Urs and Modran have shown to me and to my friends. I cannot repay that kindness but I want to try to help. I know how much the loss of the Water Rikki meant to Urs and how much it means to you. . . I am, as Urs told you no boatman, but if you will listen I will share some ideas from my world (I hoped they chalked up that slip to my poor command of the language) which may be of interest.

  With the aid of large sketches I went on to outline the plan. I began with what everyone in the room knew. . . a boat could not be built from the keel up in the time we had. I proposed instead that the club purchase an existing hull from one of the regular boats designed for cargo and refit it. The crowd reaction was one of knowing tolerance. I could sense that each of them was anxious to tell me how a common broad beamed riverboat could never hope to win against the sleek hulled craft designed especially for racing. I beat them to it. "I know that a ordinary river craft has no chance against a boat built for the race. What Urs and I propose will be no ordinary boat. Although we must because time is short use a hull from a cargo boat I suggest a number of changes which should make up for the poor design of the hull. I had their attention now, in some faces I glimpsed an active interest in what I would say.

  Using the drawings I outlined several modifications, a coating of resins for the bottom of the rough hull so that its streamlined surface would slide through the water more easily, curved oars which would bite the water more efficiently and deliver more power, sliding seats for the oarsmen so they could row with more effect and less fatigue, a special training program for the boat crew which was far superior to the common practice of seeing that the crews were well fed and well rested before the race, the addition of a coxswain who would not row but who would help with the loading and unloading.

  Finally, I proposed a secret method for handling the cargo that had to be loaded and unloaded during the race. I hoped the use of the "secret" would peak their interest, but aside from doing it for effect, what I had in mind could be quickly copied by the other boats if word of it was leaked. I told them that Urs and I alone would prepare this part of the plan.

  When I stopped speaking there as a brief moment of silence followed by a gathering stream of questions/reservations expressed by the crowd. Urs had to help me understand and answer as the excitement built and the club members began to resemble commodities traders shouting questions and hearing the answers shot back to them.

  It must have been near dawn before the discussion was done and a vote called for. The club's chief officer came forward and conducted the vote. All who favored the effort were asked to stand. All but a few rose immediately to their feet. Even the holdouts rose to stand with the others when they saw the support was overwhelming. We were back in the boat race.

  CHAPTER 14

  I'd thought the astronaut training program was tough, but I was working harder now than then. When I entered the astro-science corps my enthusiasm for the job made up for the long hours and hard work. Those days were certainly among the best of my life. These might just be THE best!

  Each day we rose before dawn
. Urs and I ate a breakfast prepared by Leeta and Modran who were up even earlier. Before the winter sun struck the tops of the western peaks we were walking through deserted streets to the new boathouse the club had rented. It sat, a somewhat ramshackled wood-over-stone pile, on the banks of the Mon not far from the Vanu.

  As we arrived we were always challenged by at least one guard. The cause of the last fire had never been determined, but with high stakes bet on the race the possibility of arson had not been overlooked. It would not easily happen again.

  Work inside the converted warehouse/ boathouse often continued until late in the night. Workers whose other duties did not call them away often slept over and at least two guards were posted while the others were sleeping. Urs and I slept at the Vanu because it was only blocks away and we could be called for quickly if needed. Once inside we were greeted by several of the crew who had slept over.

  "Leeta will be along shortly with the breakfast she and Modran have prepared" I told the waiting workers.

  The hull had been worked to as smooth a finish as the scrapers and sanding stones could make it. Today we were working on the designs of the sliding seats for the oarsmen. The windows were open and the inside air was chill. The first of many coats of the resin we would apply to the hull was drying in front of slow charcoal fires. We didn’t want anyone asphyxiated from carbon monoxide or the fumes from the drying resins. Through experimentation we had found that the local varnish made by boiling the bark of certain trees could be improved by the addition of animal hooves boiled down to a thick soup.

  We had set up an area for making the resin in a small courtyard near the water. Parties scouted the banks above the town to return with the bark and firewood we needed. Local butchers were happy to provide the hooves we needed. The resinous liquid seemed to stand the water well. Workers rubbed it on while it was hot and it penetrated every crack and cranny of the hull. For this job we had turned the hull upside down.

  Between each coat the crew were instructed to rough the surface slightly with fine sanding stones so the next application would stick. When dry the finish was amazingly smooth, tough and still flexible. We would need that flexibility as we could not right and launch the craft without having the hull give.

  I estimated the Water Rikki II to be about 8 or 9 meters long and perhaps 3 a beam. She was rounded at the prow and squared off at the stern to facilitate loading cargo from the rear. When we finished she would be partly decked fore and aft but open amidships where there were places for eight oarsmen, four on each side of the main cargo area.

  There was no hold as such but removable planking kept the cargo above any water which might accumulate in the flat bottom from rain or seepage. She was steered with a sweep tiller from the stern deck. There was no cabin so the steersman was as exposed to the elements as were the oarsmen. A small compartment beneath the foredeck offered some shelter when the weather was bad. On cargo vessels this was more often than not filled with cargo that needed to be kept dry. Often the crews lacked even this meager protection. Lack of such protection was another reason there was little activity on the rivers during the cold months. Heavily laden she might draw as much as 1 ½ meters of water. Lightly burdened she could skim by on half that due to her almost flat bottom.

  I had accepted there was no time to make major modifications to the hull but had argued strongly for the addition of a more streamlined prow.

  The night of the demonstrations I showed the onlookers two model hulls Lady Camille had made at my request. They were exquisite models. One was the rounded prow in common use on the river. The other was the sharper and more streamlined version I proposed. I demonstrated that both were the same general size and weight before attaching each to a string which passed over a pulley at the end of the demonstration tank. Next I produced two identical metal tankards which I tied to the free ends of the strings for weights. This done I drew both boats back to the end of the tank and released them. In trial after trial the boat with the new prow design reached the end of the tank a half a length or more before the other. Seeing was believing. They set to work to reshape the prow.

  A major revision I suggested, which was not adopted, was the idea of having a bank of six or eight oarsmen rather than the current four per side. Even though there was general agreement that the boat would be faster with the additional oars the rules prohibited it. Like the Terran lumberjacking contests of earth these competitions sprang from the world of everyday work on the river. A boat this size physically could have easily accomodated more oars, but economically it was impractical. This wasn't a royal yacht competition. It was a cargo race among cargo boats. Boat size, crew numbers, and cargo capacity were all elements of a complex formula set to maximize profit. Extra oarsmen would have added some speed but in the world of daily commerce on the river the extra division of the money would have resulted in a smaller share even though somewhat more cargo might be hauled. We stayed with the maximum crew of 10, eight oarsmen, a tillerman/captain, and deck hand/relief oarsman. I had added the role of coxswain to this tenth crewman’s duties.

  At mid morning the carefully selected crew arrived. Although members of the boat club they were also working boatmen who lived in Mon-ton. These guys definitely knew one end of an oar from another. Most had been members of the crew for the Water Rikki I. I had taken no part in selecting them other than to insist on the right to dismiss any man who could not accept the new training standards. Iwould also make no suggestions as to how they should run the race. My domain was the hour each morning and the two each afternoon which had been allotted to train with them.

  The usual preparation for the races consisted of having the crews lift a few weights and eat huge quantities of "fortifying" foods while resting up for the big day. I decided that some general aerobic conditioning couldn't hurt. Each morning I took the crew led by their captain, Barg Dedlen, on long jogs out the North gate and along dirt tracks into the farmlands above the town. An hour or so later we would come huffing and puffing back to the boathouse, rubbing feet grown sore after pounding in the last kilometer or so over the paving stones.

  Most mornings there was some griping but Barg kept it to a minimum. The crew understood how much was riding on their performance. Like athletes anywhere they were game to try anything that might give them a competitive edge. By the last day of the passage (ie. the 12 day "week") they recognized that we were covering more distance and doing it more easily than we had at the start. The grumbling faded out completely.

  Afternoons the training took a different tack. A tented framework had been erected on a low pier in a back water area just beyond the city walls north of town. Inside the shelter at just the right height above the water level we had erected full size versions of different designs for the sliding seats I hoped to develop. The seats were configured just as they would be in the Rikki II. The oars churned the water on each side of the dock as we practiced with the new seats. I often joined when a regular was missing or just to see for myself how the sliding seats were working.

  Lady Camille and had worked late several evenings refining their design. She wielded the charcoal, producing intricate sketches that would have been appreciated by any fellow engineer. We had some trouble converting dimensions to the system of the local builders, but that proved only a temporary difficulty.

  She was amazingly quick to grasp what I was trying to do and good at design for a watercraft even though her people were generally too hydrophobic to move any cargo by water. I was impressed that she was able to suggest design improvements for use by beings whose physiology was totally different from her own. She was a whiz.

  I invited her as often as I could to the boathouse. We could usually find something or other for her to carry so we could have an excuse for bringing her along. She would keep as low a profile as possible and soon was more or less ignored by the workmen.

  Today, inside the canvas shelter we were trying the second design for a sliding seat. Our first design in which the seat slid at
op a single greased rail of hardwood lacked lateral stability (it wiggled too much side to side). Our current design hoped to correct that. The wooden seat had a low back for support during the stroke and rode atop twin rails on two deep channels in the bottom of the seat. The rails were braced against each other as well as against the structure of the boat. If the test today were successful we would move the entire assembly to be mounted in the hull a few days before race time.

  "Man oars" Barg called out to the crew.

  They were still not used to a sliding seat, but fifteen minutes later they were still rowing steadily and the seats proved even more stable than I'd hoped. Although the “catch” was slightly different, the men came to favor the new oars with the slightly curved ends. About thirty minutes later the captain ended their workout and we all headed back to the boathouse to eat a meal and see what progress was being made.

  Six days later the preliminary heats were held. Barg assured me that his crew could win if they had to row the ferryboat. The elimination heats were held in just the same fashion as the championships would be. There were four entrants. As last years champs Barg's crew had a first round buy. The three challengers raced first among themselves to select a winner who would take on Barg and the Water Rikki II.

  The challenger was put up by a rival boat club. The "Drakor" was skippered by a burly man that could have played Mike Fink (“King of the River” in an ancient Davy Crockett series on 2-D TV). There were two non-humans in his crew. One had the prehensile tail and orange fur of the tree people and of Guran's river tribe. The other was a reptiloid of a race I'd never seen before.