Dare To Love (12 page)

“And all this, used to be my father’s?”

Thomas began following Gwendolyn
unconsciously; she began walking around farther into the
construction which concerned him. “Gwendolyn, watch yourself, you
never know when a plank might come loose and conk you on your
head.”

Gwendolyn laughed, but did not bother to look
his way. “I know where to walk, thank you,” she said, holding her
skirts and continuing to walk the grounds.

“You know Gwendolyn, I was thinking,” he
carefully verbalized with Katrina still at his heel, “That since
your station has made my life most comfortable, I would be willing
to pay you clearing with the divorce. How does fifty thousand
pounds sound?”

Katrina pulled back on his arm and choked on
the implausibility that he would offer her that much money. Thomas
turned around and scowled at her.

Gwendolyn now looked his way as he turned
around to meet her cynical eyes. He seemed serious…too sincere for
some reason. “Fifty thousand pounds? Are you really all that
prosperous?”

Thomas stood mesmerized by her uncertainty.
Why would she even think that he was not? Or would not be? “I
forgot to mention, a year. The figure is based on an amount that
would be offered annually.”

Gwendolyn’s heart escalated. Annually? Was he
insane? Did a plank conk him on his head? “I will have to decline
Thomas,” she revealed modestly, “I do not need anything from you—we
have all that we need.”

Thomas stared at Gwendolyn like she had three
eyes in the center of her forehead. Almost immediately, he was
inundated with questions from his manager and had to leave
Gwendolyn momentarily. Katrina did not dare leave him alone and
accompanied him back to the office on the wharf where he generally
did business.

Gwendolyn stood idle and surveyed the
vastness of the great shipyard. Timber was scattered amongst the
ground like modest sticks. Woods of every variation: rock maple,
white oak, cedar and pine. Fifty thousand pounds indeed…Gwendolyn
next ambled over to one man centered amid the chaos giving orders.
“Excuse me, sir? May I have a word?”

The man’s eyes lit up and quickly walked over
to her. “Yes mum, watch yer step, what is it that ya need?”

“May I ask you a question?”

The man kept staring at her; women have been
to the shipyard before, but none as radiant as she. “Yes mum.”

“Have you worked here long?”

“Yes mum, all m’life.”

Gwendolyn’s eyes grew round, “Really? Then
you must have been under the employ of the Earl of
Suffolkshire.”

He lowered his gaze, “Yes mum.”

Gwendolyn noted his dismal response. “Why the
look of dejection?”

“The Earl was a terrible business mon,
gambling away his profits, never paying wages; had to barter the
hand of his daughter to save his production.” Then he paused and
his eyes grew broad. “Was he was yer father?” He asked without a
hint of diplomacy.

“Why yes, how did you guess?”

“I remember ya coming to the shipyard once,”
he remarked truthfully. “Running after yer brother, ye tripped into
mud.”

Gwendolyn then blushed and looked oddly over
at the large ships being built. “So many years ago, mister—”

“Cornwall, mum. Edmund Cornwall, at yer
service. The Duke of Norwin has been the best employer in all of
London, mum; do not mind mentioning that to ya. He has kept a roof
over me head and food in me stomach for the past seven years. God
bless him, yer husband.”

Gwendolyn did not bother correcting the man.
He seemed genuine and kind. She smiled and lifted up her skirt,
“Mr. Cornwall, would you be so kind to explain to me what these men
are doing? I would like to know more about my father’s
venture.”

“Certainly, mum, please follow me.”

Gwendolyn followed Mr. Cornwall around and
met teams of craftsman like carpenters, dubbers, joiners, caulkers
and fasteners all working together to convert the designers’ vision
into reality.

Henry Barton, Thomas’ supervising engineer,
showed Gwendolyn his models. He explained to her the vision of
creation, step by step. With a mallet and a gouge, he first shapes
his model before taking it to the mold loft. Once there, the
model’s curves enlarged to full size are traced on the floor with
chalk. Flexible battens, temporarily pinned to the floor are used
as guides for tracing and ensuring smooth arcs. The chalk lines are
used for wooden templates for the ships ribs. Outside, timbers are
sculpted into structural rudiments and curved, usually steamed in
ovens until they were flexible enough to bend into a hull
formation. Thousands upon thousands of wooden fasteners called
‘treenails’ are split by hand for utilization.

Thomas and Katrina then joined Gwendolyn,
Henry and Edmund. Thomas eyed Gwendolyn first, but she quickly
looked away. He was wondering what she was doing amongst the
timber, wandering around with the two men. His heart pounded
strangely when he noticed Gwendolyn giving Henry extra
awareness.

“Everything is so interesting Thomas,”
Gwendolyn raved, bringing extra attention to herself from all the
men in the group. “What are they doing over there?” She expressed
still curious.

Thomas eyed the derricks in view. “Come with
me, I will show you.”

“If you do not need my assistance any
further, Lady Hollinger, I should be heading back,” Henry
announced, speaking to her, but then setting eyes on Katrina.
Katrina lowered her eyes in her usual inhospitable way.

“Yes, of course, certainly, do not let me
keep you Lord Barton. Your visions are quite exceptional, it was
most informative,” Gwendolyn pointed out, smiling at him
graciously.

“Thank you,” he accepted, tipping his hat and
bowing goodbye to the rest of the group.

Thomas eyed Gwendolyn watching him saunter
away and raised his eyebrow. “Come Gwendolyn, I will explain to you
what process is being completed here.”

Gwendolyn was then escorted to another vast
area where a horse driven derrick was lowering a massive white-oak
timber, making the ship’s keel—the backbone of the hull. Thomas
explained to her that the men guided the timber so that the butt,
which has been engraved on a stepped diagonal, will form a snug
locale on the keel blocks. The intersection, called a hook-scarf
joint, will then be clenched with yardlong iron spikes, known as
drift bolts.

On a raised area built on either side of the
keel, the ribs are assembled from sections that been cut to match
the shapes of the mold-loft templates. One by one, the massive
horseshoe-shaped ribs are elevated upright and fitted onto the
keel. Once they are up, the keelson—another composite of joined
timbers—was bolted along the hull’s centerline, combining the
framework tightly against the keel.

On scaffolding that surrounded the hull, a
dubber uses an adz to flatten sections of the frame so that the
planking would sit securely in place. Operating with a big auger, a
borer drills holes through each plank and into the frames at the
rear. A mallet man follows him, securing the planks by pounding
hardwood treenails into each drill hole. Later, another yard hand
will saw each treenail off flush when complete.

Thomas escorted Gwendolyn to another location
where the deck beams were being installed. “Yard hands support the
knee. Knees are cut from a single piece of wood and are used to
reinforce the joints where the deck beams meet the frames. Truly a
team effort for all involved, three yard hands are used to support
the knee, while a fourth worker pounds the lumber to wedge the knee
firmly into place. A fifth man is needed to drive drift bolts
through another knee to fit that into place, until each beam will
have a hanging knee set under it and a lodging knee on each
side.”

“Fascinating Thomas,” Gwendolyn pronounced in
awe, hearing a distinctive boinking sound coming from another
dismembered ship. “What is being done over there?”

Thomas walked along the footpath with
Gwendolyn, Katrina and Mr. Cornwall. “Well, a team of caulkers are
sealing the deck. We use oakum and tar-soaked hemp between the
planks. That caulker over there is holding a long-handled hawsing
iron which the mallet man is striking and driving the oakum into
the cracks, creating a tight water seal.”

“You seem to know so much, Thomas, I am so
impressed,” Gwendolyn ranted, causing Katrina to squint her
eyes.

Thomas swallowed his fun and eyed a vessel
that was about to be launched. “Gwendolyn, come with me, I want to
show you something,” he said excited, walking away from Katrina and
meeting Gwendolyn’s stride towards the wharf.

Gwendolyn was then amazed to come face to
face with a massive completed ship about to enter the ocean. She
watched with wonderment as a pair of yard hands pound away the
blocks of wood that supported the keel. As each block was knocked
away, the weight of the hull was thrown onto piles of beams built
up along the hull’s underbelly. The beams appeared to be greased as
the heaviness of the ship begins to slip, allowing the craft to
move down the incline and into the water.

With a booming sound of plummeting keel
blocks, the ship enters the water stern first, causing a tremendous
splash.

“She will be towed later to my rigger’s wharf
and fitted out with her permanent masts, yards and sails,” Thomas
expressed happily, energized from Gwendolyn’s apparent
satisfaction.

Gwendolyn gazed up at him smiling down at
her. “You have done a tremendous job here Thomas; you have made
your father proud.”

“Thank you Gwendolyn,” Thomas beamed,
suddenly being called over by another foreman. Thomas nodded his
head for acknowledgment and turned to Mr. Cornwall. “Escort the
ladies back to the office Cornwall; I will be there in a few.”

“Yes sir,” Mr. Cornwall established, watching
Thomas head off to speak to the supervisor.

Katrina lifted up her skirts and schlepped
back towards the wharf where Thomas would be. “So much nonsense
probing and carrying on about the shipping business.”

Gwendolyn grabbed her by her shoulder and
spun her around. Mr. Cornwall raised his eyebrow at the perceptible
hostility between the two women.

“How dare you insult the very foundation of
your future? You should be proud of the accomplishment Thomas has
managed to maintain. You could not possibly imagine the joy it is
for me to witness my father’s legacy being fully controlled and
administered properly. For something Thomas never wanted to be a
part of in the first place, I am pleased to see he has shown
nothing but ability to preserve and sustain supremacy in the
maritime industry.”

Katrina raised her nose and proceeded onward,
leaving Gwendolyn and Mr. Cornwall hastily behind.

Later, Cornwall entered the private office
where Thomas and Devin had been arguing. He waited off to the left
of them till the end of their spat before handing Thomas a handful
of papers.

“What is this?” Thomas asked, grazing through
the reports.

“Ye wanted to see the progression of the Sea
Witch, Your Grace.”

The ship Sea Witch was a competitor’s
masterpiece, and Thomas watched her progression continuously.
“Yes—yes, quite right, I did.” Thomas repeated, skimming through
the figures on the document. “Thank you Cornwall.”

“Well, if you are done disagreeing with me
Thomas, I am off to work on some certain paperwork for a certain
gentlemen friend of mine,” Devin jested, lifting his brows.

Thomas rolled his eyes and gazed beyond his
exit. Katrina was standing outside now, with Gwendolyn unhurriedly
arriving up next to her.

He sat there a moment and watched Gwendolyn
from a distance. Katrina ignored her presence in her standard
pretentious behavior, while Gwendolyn fidgeted nervously playing
with her handbag under her coat. They were waiting for him to take
them to the tailor, in suspense just outside the vast windows.

He did not want to compare the two women, but
felt he needed to. They were like night and day, sunlight and
evening; hair of gold, tresses of auburn, blue eyes, brown, both
the same height, with a slender shape, but oh so different in
behavior. Equally graceful and unique, yes, poised and exceptional;
both owning the same qualities he found irresistible in a
companion. And who demonstrated that engaging persona to him
foremost? Some girl he used to know…what was her name again? Oh
yes, Lady Drummond of Suffolkshire.

Edmund eyed his employer boring at the two
women and replied, “Thought yer wife was deceased Your Grace.
Entirely surprised to see her today. If yer still married, who is
Lady Hale? Can I be ya for a day? Parading around Bristol with yer
wife and mistress in tow.”

Thomas grinned, and then looked up at
Cornwall. “Ha! Good one Cornwall. Never you mind, you ole buggar.
Now, go back outside and revive the troops. We have to finish that
clipper soon, cannot have those Yank’s beating us at
everything.”

CHAPTER TEN

Monique LeFleur, a French deserter, began
sewing when she was a young maiden. Having worked with the famous
tailor, Leroy, the dressmaker for her highness, Empress Josephine
and her Court, Madame LeFleur was renowned throughout London for
her unique vision and designs. Once a beautiful red head in her
heyday, her hair had been aged with streaks of grey and the lines
of maturity showed brightly on her artificial rouged cheeks.