“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.
“Madame LeFleur, so nice to see you again,” Katrina voiced, striding into the Parisian parlor putting on heirs. “Is my gown ready?”
“Oui Mademoiselle,” she voiced, “Are you ready for a fitting?”
“That is why I am here.”
Gwendolyn waited for Katrina to introduce her, but Katrina only snubbed her presence, and through squinted eyes Gwendolyn watched Katrina stroll into another section of the parlor.
Madame LeFleur clapped her hands a couple of times and several ladies in waiting came to her side. She shouted at them in French and each one of them darted towards a different area of the shop. She turned towards Gwendolyn and raked in her appearance; focusing on her unique hair…it was a deep reddish-brown, similar to hers when she was younger. The young woman was absolutely divine with soulful doe shaped eyes and pink lips. Did she come with Lady Hale? No, Lady Hale would not be caught dead parading around town with a woman more striking than she. Then who was this lovely woman? “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Madame LeFleur. What may I help you with Mademoiselle…?”
Gwendolyn began taking off her gloves and bonnet, “Drummond,” she covered herself, “It is nice to meet your acquaintance. Undergarments?”
Madame LeFleur gave Gwendolyn a syrupy smile. “Tous vêtements ici, everything here. Muslin braces; morning fichu; crinoline dresses; corsets; chemisette with frills even leather shoes.”
“Splendid.”
“Would you like me to set up an account?”
“Oh—no, I will settle everything today, thank you.”
“Very well, I have several dresses already completed that you would quite like.”
Gwendolyn caught Thomas strangely pacing in front of the store windows in the corner of her eye. She slowly went to the casement and watched him pace back and forth, forth and back, contemplating whatever; funny to see him scratching his head, mumbling to himself, and waiving his hands up in the air. “You are too kind Madame, but I am looking for a ball gown...something different.”
Madame LeFleur looked intently at Gwendolyn staring outside the window. She turned to look at whom she was gaping at and noticed the Duke of Norwin on the other side. “Ah—to catch the eye of a certain gentlemen, perhaps?” She probed.
Gwendolyn laughed and then looked away, “Yes...”
Outside, striding up and down the footpath, Thomas weighed his uncertainty. Strange, outlandish thoughts ran through his noble principle. Gwendolyn wanted nothing from him? Why, that’s absurd. He even offered her more than he contemplated giving her. Unbelievable that she rejected the offer, with no hint of emotion. Damn her! Why was she always so hard to figure out? All that he had now was once hers and she doesn’t even long for part of it? She wants nothing, needs zilch…and what was this “we” business?
Madame LeFleur bowed her chin and said brashly, “I have the perfect dress.” She clapped her hands again and quickly directed a maid in French and the maid disappeared behind a curtain. To Gwendolyn’s surprise, Thomas came through the door, and greeted Madame LeFleur with pleasantries.
“Bonjour, Your Grace, it is so nice to see you again. Votre belle fiancée is in the back, attempting the most sensational dress...the one you had made for her.”
Gwendolyn continued to pretend she did not notice him standing there. Thomas imagined she was not there either and addressed Madame LeFleur.
Madame LeFleur raised her eyebrow in suspicion as the duo purposely tried to sidestep one another.
“Oui, bon, mais cela est pourquoi je ne suis pas ici,” he voiced, moving away from Gwendolyn’s hearing distance.
Gwendolyn whipped her head around and eyed Thomas without hesitation. That’s not why he is here? Then why is he here? And when did he finish learning French? His intelligence took her by surprise.
A maid who presented a delightful lustring grey dress with white ruffles encasing its neckline and bodice suddenly distracted Gwendolyn. Gwendolyn nodded to the maid that she wanted to try it on and the maid escorted her to a dressing room.
“Alors s’il vous plait, Your Grace, why are you here?” Madame LeFleur asked with enticement.
“I will settle Lady…Miss…her,” he voiced under his normal tone pointing at Gwendolyn’s egress, “Account Madame, make sure she obtains everything she needs.”
Madame LeFleur looked at him with restriction, “Oui, Your Grace, it seems Mademoiselle is in need of a ball gown...something unique, she asks.”
Thomas noted the woman’s directness. “Unique?”
“Oui,” Madame LeFleur repeated, studying his curious posture and apprehensive movement.
“Madame LeFleur, remember that gown that I wished for my fiancée last month, the one that she refused to wear?”
She knew immediately what he was speaking of, “Oui, the emerald one? Classic, Venetian splendor, a magnificent gown, cette robe?”
“Yes, the dark green, that one.”
“Oui, it is still here.”
“I wish to purchase it for the woman, make sure she does not leave without it.”
Madame LeFleur was taken back and tsked at him, “Your Grace, why you are worse than most Frenchmen I know. Homme honteux, shame on you—procuring a dress for your mistress, while your betrothed is in the other room dressing.”
Thomas noted the indifference in her accusatory tone, “Madame LeFleur,” he said assuredly, “There is but one person I allow to address me in such an impudent manner and she is in the other room. As for my acquaintance with that woman, she is not my mistress nor will she ever be...she is my family, and I will take care of her,” he remarked, puffing up with further disdain. “Now, if you wish for me to withdraw my account from your establishment, please state so accordingly, comprenez-vo
us?”
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