Tinker thought it was beautiful too, but she suspected it was for different reasons than her human keeper. To her it was snug and dry and had lots of places to hide.
“You and I are going to construct a model of its internal control system. With some upgrades, of course. For Father’s birthday. I hope it’ll convince Grandmother I should be an engineer. How’s that leg?” he asked.
Tinker responded by reaching out and plucking a crumb off his lapel.
Jonathan laughed then pointed to the copper tubing. “You see that tube? I’m going to work on that part and teach you how to help me. How does that sound?”
Tinker chittered then stood up on her hind legs in Jonathan’s hand and patted his face.
“I love you too, Tinker. But you have to promise me something,” Jonathan admonished. “You can only get into the ship when I’m here. No other time. And you can never leave this room without me. Promise?”
Tinker didn’t understand much of what he said overall, but she knew one thing for sure. It would take an army of rats to keep her from Jonathan. She’d just have to do what rats do best –sneak.
JONATHAN SAT AT A DESK in the library surrounded by books on Latin, Greek and mathematics. His workbooks were stacked inside an open leather satchel with the family shipping crest embossed on the latch. Now, one would think this room had the best lighting in the house, but that assumption would be wrong. His grandmother liked to keep the lights low. She claimed the poor light forced you to focus and study harder. Maybe she was right, but Jonathan was certain of one thing—his neck hurt from scrunching over the table trying to read.
He drew diagrams in his workbook while his tutor, Mr. Maximillian, droned on about Latin and its place in history. Jonathan’s drawings ran the gamut of small intricate tools to the gears and machines they might fix. He kept drawing multiple gear assemblies, then getting frustrated and scribbling them out. It was during one of these intense scribbling’s that Jonathan realized his tutor was talking to him.
“Mr. Weldsmore?” Mr. Maximillian asked with a bare hint of deference. He was a tiny man, not much taller than girls Jonathan’s age. He always thought it was comical whenever Mr. Maximillian stood next to his grandmother. Jonathan thought he looked like a pixie as he continued to draw.
“Jonathan!” the tutor shouted.
Startled, Jonathan jerked and broke his pencil. “What?”
Mr. Maximillian glared at him. “Veni, vidi, vici. Translate. Now. And tell me who said it.”
Jonathan gave him a bored sigh. “I came. I saw. I conquered. Julius Caesar. Now, I really need to get back to this.”
The tutor stood in front of him and, crossed his arms over his chest in a futile attempt to appear bigger than he was. “I will tell your grandmother of your impertinence and lack of respect for me.”
Jonathan was about to retort when movement on top of one of the bookcases stopped him short. Tinker was scratching her ear with her new metal claw. He folded up what he was working on and acted contrite. “I’m sorry, Mr. Maximillian. I guess I’m not feeling well.”
The tutor leaned both hands on the desk and peered into Jonathan’s face as though he was inspecting a new, but rather abhorrent species of bug. “At least your brother had the decency to pretend to be interested in his studies.”
“That’s because I’m so good at pretending.” Hal poked his head around the corner of the study. Jonathan heard giggling in the hallway. “Give it a rest, Max, my good fellow. Johnny has better things to do.” Hal motioned for his brother to get up.
Jonathan stood up and tried to ignore Tinker running across the top of a bookcase. “Grandmother hates it when you call me that.”
“Grandmother hates you, not the name. Sorry.” Hal winked at Mr. Maximillian. “You don’t mind if I steal my brother away for a while, old man?”
The tutor was already packing his books away. “Like I have a choice.”
Jonathan looked across the room and saw Tinker scamper across the side of the bookcase. Her claws left tiny dents in the wood. He gulped and stuffed other papers into his satchel to draw everyone’s attention away from her.
“I have a special request to ask of my least-favorite brother,” Hal teased as he marched in.
“I’m your only brother,” Jonathan replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm as he walked toward the door. He caught sight of Tinker out of the corner of his eye. She was heading straight for him.
Almost in a panic, Jonathan dumped his satchel on to the floor behind him. As he leaned over to gather his things up, Tinker made a beeline for his foot. Jonathan tried to grab her, but she swerved around him and crawled up his pant leg. He made every effort to remain calm.
Hal shook his head. “You’re just sad. But we can fix that. Come on.”
As Jonathan stood up, he threw the strap of the satchel over his shoulder. Feeling Tinker latched on to his sock, he tried not to wince as her metal claws dug through the fabric into his skin. Hal motioned for him to follow him. Jonathan walked into the hallway trying not to dislodge Tinker.
There stood a sight he never thought he’d see in House Weldsmore—a pasty-white woman in a floral dress that failed to hide her ankles. An eggshell-colored petticoat stuck out below her skirt, and her flaming red hair was festooned with multi-colored ribbons. But that wasn’t the worst of it. Jonathan realized she wore no metal. Not even a pewter brooch.
“Are you mad? How did you get her in?” Jonathan shouted at him.
“Lower your voice. And how I got her in doesn’t matter. But we have to take her up to your work room,” Hal replied.
“No, no, no. Not even for you. I can’t have you and her… in my workshop… doing… whatever… you know,” Jonathan stammered.
Hal gave him a sly wicked grin. “Oh, she’s not for me.” He leaned in closer. “She’s for you.”
Alarmed and afraid, Jonathan backed away. Tinker dug into his ankle, and he grimaced in pain.
His brother laughed, clearly mistaking his expression. “It’s not that you silly twit. Come on, we have to get her out of sight.”
Jonathan didn’t budge.
Hal walked over and grabbed his arm. “We can’t leave her in the hallway, can we?”
The woman gave Jonathan a cute little smile, then curtsied. “Pleased to meet ya, young sir.”
The sound of Mr. Maximillian’s feet shuffling alarmed them, so the brothers flanked her and each grabbed an arm.
“Aren’t we in a hurry,” she purred.
“Shut up, you fool,” Hal hissed under his breath.
Jonathan hoped that by the time Mr. Maximillian exited the library he would not notice the scent of girl’s putrid flowery perfume.
HAL SHOVED HIS WAY INTO Jonathan’s workroom the moment his brother unlocked it, dragging the woman behind him. Jonathan hurried, ducked behind his desk and pulled Tinker off his ankle. He tossed his satchel aside as a distraction, then put the rat back into her drawer. Unable to shut it completely, he threw in several crackers, hoping they would distract Tinker for a while.
The woman clapped her hands in delight when she saw the workroom. “Will you look at this metal. I knew you be rich, Hal, but…what is that? She had spotted the mechanical man Jonathan had built a few years back and made a beeline for it. Jonathan ran over to intercept her before she could pick it up. “Tell me, young sir. Be it a type of doll? Does it walk and talk?”
Jonathan stood between her and the machine. She tried to peer around him to get a better look at his creation. “It’s just a prototype. And yes, it walks, sort of, but it doesn’t talk.”
“Pro… toe... type.” She rolled the word around her mouth like a piece of candy. “That be quite a thing. And you built him?”
“Ah, yes,” Jonathan answered fearing what the next question might be.
She pointed to the ship models dangling around the room. “Those too?”
He nodded, glancing over to Hal for help. His brother appeared amused by it all.
The woman
looked Jonathan over with new found respect. “You didn’t tell me he was the smart one, did ya Hal?” She gave Hal a wink and a smirk.
“Enough, Betsy. You’ve got work to do.” Hal glowered.
She snorted, walked to the center of the room, then turned and gestured to Jonathan to join her. “Well, come on.”
“What’s going on, Hal?” Jonathan asked.
“You mean he doesn’t know?” Betsy threw her hands up in annoyance.
Hal grinned at his little brother. “I decided that you needed to comport yourself like a proper gentlemen at Father’s birthday party. So, my dear Betsy is going to teach you how to dance.”
“What? No. I’m not going to the ball. Grandmother would never allow it,” Jonathan protested.
“That’s because you don’t know how to dance,” Hal argued.
“If Grandmother had wanted me to learn how to dance, she would have gotten me proper…” Jonathan hesitated, “… instruction. No disrespect, Betsy.”
She shrugged.
“That’s why you’re going to surprise her.” Hal walked over and put his hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “One day when I take over the company I’m going to need a good second. And part of being a good second is learning how to dance. I can’t have my own brother embarrassing me at social events.”
A soft rustling from Tinker’s drawer drew their attention.
“Is something in that drawer?” Hal asked.
Jonathan took Hal’s arm and ushered him over to Betsy. “I want to see how it’s done properly before I try. Is that all right?”
Hal mussed up Jonathan’s hair again. “Quite. Shall we, Betsy?”
Jonathan watched as Hal and Betsy waltzed around the room counting to keep time. While they were busy, Jonathan draped a blueprint over the open drawer. While he did that, Hal grabbed the back of his pants and jerked him out on to the floor.
Soon, Betsy was teaching a very awkward Jonathan how to waltz while Hal kept time by clapping his hands and stomping his foot. Each time Jonathan stepped on her toes, she’d let out a shriek. They were so worried about being discovered they came up with an alternate plan. Hal would act as his female partner and Jonathan would lead while Betsy kept the rhythm going. It took a while, but soon the two brothers were waltzing across the room.
It was the happiest time Jonathan had ever had with his brother.
TINKER SNEAKED OUT OF THE drawer while the humans where stomping and clapping. She found the noise disturbing and wanted to hide, so she scampered up the side of the ship prototype and found her little cubbyhole. She soon fell asleep.
Not long after, she felt Jonathan pick her up. The room was quiet and the other humans were gone.
“Tinker, you scared me to death. Never, never, ever leave this room again unless I take you. Understand?” Jonathan admonished.
Tinker picked up on his fear by his scent and understood. She nuzzled his hand.
“Good girl. Now we’ve got work to do.” The boy smiled at her. “You have a lot to learn and not much time.”
The work was slow and arduous as Tinker learned how to use her new foreleg and back leg in tandem with her flesh-and-blood ones. The new legs were much stronger than her other ones, but not as flexible.
Jonathan had her practice using front her paws to pick up the tiniest objects, then much larger ones using her back paws, then a combination of them. As she got better at it, her tasks became more complex. She practiced carrying tiny things that Jonathan called bevel gears. Then Jonathan would reach in using the most slender of pliers to attach them. If she got it right, Tinker got a piece of cracker. If not, Jonathan would tap her on the nose and say, “You can do better. You’re a smart little rat.”
Once, the gears got stuck in place so Jonathan made her a tiny knapsack that cinched around her stomach. A small clip held it secure. He attached a hook to the pack, then ran a piece of string through it. Jonathan had Tinker run through the narrow tunnel to where the gears were stuck. Her job would be to squeeze through the jammed gears, circle back around, then scurry out the hole. Jonathan used the string as leverage to release the gears. Tinker got a whole cracker for that.
When she rested, Tinker watched him draw intricate diagrams of the inner workings of the ship. Sometimes Jonathan pulled his hair and bite his fingernails in frustration. Whenever he did this, Tinker hopped up on to his shoulder and chittered into his ear. This always made him smile.
But her favorite thing, other than crackers, was when he spoke to her. It made her feel special, as though she was human too.
Jonathan often talked about how it had been his grandfather’s dream to build this ship. Its steering and engine control were the first of their kind and would revolutionize the shipping and passenger industries. No longer would the captain have to waste time calling down to the engine room to increase or decrease speed. Nor would they have to call to change direction. His grandfather had designed a system where everything could be controlled from the bridge.
But it had a flaw. And Jonathan was trying to find a solution.
The sea trial had been scheduled for the day after his father’s birthday which was in two days. Tinker could smell his worry.
Late one night, Jonathan had fallen asleep at his desk, his face planted on top of his diagrams, smudging them and leaving trails of ink up his cheek. Jonathan was so exhausted he did not notice a very bored Tinker sitting on his head picking through his hair.
She tugged on his ear, but he only swatted her away. Tinker scurried off and sniffed around the desk. She picked up an old, discarded metal hand similar to her own and inspected it. She played with the tiny claws, moving them back and forth. They were not as strong as hers. Or as shiny. Bored after a moment, she shoved it into her sleeping drawer, where it lodged on top of some other tools and stuck up at an odd angle. Then Tinker grabbed one of the long copper wires they had been practicing with and scampered down the desk. The wire trailed behind her like a vine searching for a trellis.
Tinker hopped into the ship prototype and scampered through the same passages she had before. The paper covering one of the tunnels had torn so she squeezed her way through into a new passage. Feeling energetic, she ran as fast as she could until she collided into a corner that was blocked off. Determined that nothing would get in the way of her little adventure, Tinker chewed through the paper and wound her way through the maze of the model, bringing the wire with her.
She had reached another impasse and had begun chewing on it when a voice boomed above her.
“Tinker! What are you doing?” a distraught Jonathan cried out. “Get out! You’ve ruined every… ” His voice stopped. Tinker shook in fear. The boy had never spoken to her like this before. She skittered out of the ship.
“No! Don’t move,” Jonathan ordered.
Tinker tried to keep still, but her nose kept twitching.
The boy loomed over her, his finger tracing where the copper wire had run through the ship. He scratched his head then traced it again. After the third time, Jonathan stepped back and smiled. “Tinker, you little rascal. Come here.” Jonathan scooped her up and kissed her.
“You silly rat. I think you just solved the problem.” Jonathan sounded relieved. “Won’t father be surprised.”
Tinker didn’t care what she’d done; all she cared about was that the boy still loved her.
GRANDMOTHER ADORED PARTIES. SHE excelled at them and was fond of reminding everyone of that fact. So on the day of Charles’s birthday party, the entire household was in a panic. Every servant knew if their task was not done properly, they would be fired without references.
His father’s valet fussed over Jonathan to make sure his suit was perfect in every way, from the creases on his pants to the polish of the family crest on his lapels. Jonathan didn’t care about dressing up, but tonight he wanted to look good for his father and their guests.
When the valet deemed Jonathan finished, he hurried out of the boy’s bedroom, muttering about not having enough time and
how he was certain he would be fired. Nothing Jonathan could say would change that perception, so he didn’t bother to try. Instead, he studied himself in the mirror and decided he looked acceptable. Maybe even handsome. Not as good-looking as Hal, but enough not to embarrass his grandmother. For he wasn’t just trying to impress his father tonight, but her.
He was sure the work he had done on the ship his grandfather had designed would make her see him in a new light. That he, Jonathan Weldsmore, was worthy of bearing the family name.
But first he had to get the ship prototype out the attic door, down four flights of stairs, and into the ballroom where the guests would be waiting. Easy.
Jonathan lifted his arms to run his nervous fingers through his hair, but stopped himself. He would not ruin the valet’s hard work. Instead, he girded himself as if preparing for battle and pushed the button to call one of the underbutlers.
Sampson appeared within two minutes. He gave Jonathan a slight but respectful bow. “Sir?” Ten years older than Jonathan and two fingers taller than Hal, the underbutler looked older than he was due to his salt and pepper hair.
“Sampson, please find two or three more underbutlers and have them meet me up at my attic workroom in fifteen minutes. I have an important task for them,” Jonathan asked with as much authority as he could muster.
“Of course, sir.” A hint of a smile passed across Sampson’s lips as he exited the room.
Jonathan preened then stopped short. “Oh no. Tinker!” He ran out of the room.
Ducking and weaving through the myriad servants carrying linen to prepare rooms for the guests, Jonathan berated himself for forgetting about the rat. Some of the servant girls shrieked in alarm as he rushed past, which earned him a stern glance from the head housekeeper. He begged her forgiveness in passing and headed toward the stairs through the servants’ quarters that led up to his workshop.
Boston Metaphysical Society Page 9
