Kings of the Sea Read online

  He bowed to both of them, to avoid having to shake hands, and left. As he rode home in the icy darkness, he sang every sea chantey he knew, so elated was he by this fortunate meeting. When he had put the horse away, he found his mother still up, and they sat up even later as he told her of the chance encounter.

  “Be careful, lad, not to bite off more than you can chew,” she advised. “They’ll all be looking for you to fail, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Ay, I know it well enough.” He held up his right hand encased in a glove. “The Chinee craftsman in Honolulu who made this for me out of ivory told me it would serve me well as long as I didn’t think I needed it.” He bent the fingers into different positions with his other hand. “See, he even gave the fingers movable joints.”

  His mother took his hand of living flesh in hers. “Gideon, why haven’t you been to see your girl? She’s bound to know you’re back by now. She’ll think you don’t want her.”

  “Not my Sally,” he said confidently.

  She changed the subject. “A pity you went off to sea before you were old enough to know your father. He loved you, Gideon, and he was hard on you because he wanted you to be the best. Something in you knows that or you wouldn’t be thinking of opening the works again, now would you?”

  He grinned at her then. “You could be right, Mama. But I am not merely thinking of opening it, you know, it has been opened. You used to keep books for Papa. Would you keep them for me?”

  “Of course. Just don’t be like your father and bite my head off because the accounts don’t say what you want them to. I don’t think he ever quite reconciled my having so much education and he almost none. I think he might have written you finally except that he was so ashamed of hardly being able to write, and until he did, I couldn’t.”

  As it was getting light, Gideon was up and at the boatyard — for that was what it was, a boatyard, not a shipyard right now. He put Billy Foreman, one of the new boys, to sharpening tools while he and Elam selected the lumber for the first of the dories and carried it over to the ways. With a start, Gideon saw Tremont watching them silently as he chewed on a cigar butt, and wondered how long he had been standing there. He eased the heavy balk of timber off his shoulder, laid it on the frozen ground, and walked over to Tremont.

  “I came to tell you to forget it,” Tremont said without expression, “but after watching you work, I’ve changed my mind. The squire told me about your hand, y’see.”

  “Well?” Gideon asked truculently. “Do we get your business or don’t we?” He bent over and picked up a saw with his hooks to take over to Billy. “If we do, then bring your boat around to the ways there and we’ll winch her up so Elam can go over her.”

  “Don’t be sore.” Tremont grinned. “I have a feeling you and me’re going to get along just dandy. I like a man knows what he’s worth.”

  Gideon and Elam spent several hours going over the Nellie B from stem to stern, poking, prying, rubbing, feeling for weaknesses and imperfections.

  “You got yourself a good strong boat there, captain,” Elam told Tremont later, “but there’s a couple of things I figure you’ll want fixed either now or when you get to your home port. First of all, of course, is the mast. We kin either jury-rig it for you strong enough so’s you kin get home with it, or we kin take out the stump and put in a new one. Then we reinforce the mast timber with iron banding, and you won’t have no more breaking. The damn boat’ll break before that mast will. We’ll replace the bowsprit and if you like, restep and reinforce the other two masts the same way.”

  Tremont nodded, chewing on his ubiquitous cigar stub. “Might’s well. I sure don’t want another trip like this last one. Only thing is, I may have to pay you part now and the rest after the next trip.”

  “We can talk about that after we’ve gone over everything with you and I give you an estimate,” Gideon said.

  “Your rigging is all torn to hell,” Elam went on, “and what isn’t busted is about worn through. The gunwale is separated and a couple of ribs cracked. You’re lucky to have come out of that blow well as you did.”

  Tremont shook his head. “How much you figure for the lot, including the other two masts?”

  “About twenty-five hundred,” Gideon said without hesitation.

  “Jesus Christ!” Tremont exploded. “I’m not asking you to give me a new boat!”

  “Including the two dories, I figure that’s a damn fair price,” Gideon insisted. “Believe me, when we’re better known — and we soon will be — it’ll be a sight higher for that much work. If you want a half-ass job done, go to Fowler’s or one of the others and get it, but don’t come back to me when your boat falls apart on you the next blow you run into.”

  “I can’t pay you more than a thousand now and maybe the rest in two months when we bring the catch back. If it’s a bad catch, it might be even longer.”

  Though Elam shook his head slightly and frowned, Gideon said, “Done. Half the thousand now and half on delivery. In return for letting you pay piecemeal, I’ll ask you to show the work to every other captain you come across. Tell them, though, that from now on it’s cash on the barrelhead.”

  When Tremont had gone, Elam said, “What in the hell are you doing, letting him pay like that? He loses that boat in a storm or on the rocks somewhere, and we can whistle for the money. You should have charged him less and gotten it all now.”

  “Elam, you and my father knew a lot about building ships, but not damn-all about being paid what you were worth. From now on they are going to pay through the nose, and I’m even going to make them like it. They may have to save up for it, and they may have to short someone else to pay us, but by God at least it isn’t going to be us shorted.”

  There began a period of backbreaking work. They stumbled out of bed each morning in the icy dark, still tired and aching from the day before, arrived at the yard as it was just getting light, and set to work that didn’t stop except for an hour in the middle of the day to eat. Elam and Billy worked on the Nellie B while Gideon and Dick Turner worked on the dories. Uncle Bounty and Robby had their hands full with the ironwork.

  “You know, Elam,” Gideon said one day as the mast was ready to be stepped, “I think we should replace those two cracked ribs with iron ones. If anyone will let me build a ship one day, I’d put iron ribs in and an iron keel, too.”

  Elam looked at him in dismay. “That’s heresy,” he protested. “You can’t work iron like you can wood. It just wouldn’t be right to use anything but seasoned wood.”

  “Think about it,” Gideon advised, “and get used to the idea, because that’s what we’re going to do. Your bones aren’t made of the same stuff your flesh is, and there’s no reason a ship’s skeleton has to be made of the same stuff her planking is.”

  As they went along, Gideon improvised some special tools that he could fasten in place of the hooks on his arm sleeve for particular jobs, and he found himself using his right arm as much as if not more than his left. He was even harder and leaner now than he had ever been on the ships, though he ate a prodigious amount of food. On Thanksgiving he gave them all the second half of the day off, reminding them that on the first of December the Nellie B and her new dories were promised for delivery, and the other three dory orders by the tenth. He and his mother and Uncle Bounty, who had no other family nearby, all sat down to a turkey dinner that left them groaning.

  “Does Sally know you’ve lost your hand?” Gideon’s mother asked after Uncle Bounty left and they were doing the dishes.

  “I wrote her,” he said shortly.

  “And does she know that you’re home but not seeing her?”

  He threw down the dish towel. “Dammit, Mama, I’m not twelve anymore. Let me run my own private affairs, will you? She’ll wait for me because — well, because we care for each other. I told her I’d come get her when she would be proud of me, and God willing, that won’t be too long. Now does that satisfy you?”

  “Don’t swear, dear,”
she replied calmly. “I’m glad you’re sure she doesn’t mind about your hand and your not becoming a ship’s captain and having to wait for you. She sounds like a good sensible girl.”

  That night despite his weariness he tossed and turned. He hadn’t heard from her since he’d written her from Honolulu, had he? Of course, he’d told her it wasn’t necessary to write, and he really didn’t know where he’d be for a while, but all the same …

  On the last day of November, Captain Tremont turned up again with the squire and several men Gideon didn’t know in addition to one he did but had never expected to see again: Captain Poulson of the Beryl Queen. He shook hands with them all left-handed, a technique he had perfected when he realized that otherwise men stood about awkwardly contemplating his missing hand.

  “Well, Mr. Hand, you seem to have landed on your feet right enough,” Poulson said, rising up on his toes. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “It’s good to see you again, sir.” He was still digesting the fact that the other two men were shipowners. He turned to Tremont. “I’m sure you’ll want to see what we’ve been doing since you were here.”

  With a dry mouth and pounding heart, Gideon showed them over the Nellie B and pointed out what they had done and why, including taking the planking off one side to insert the iron ribs and then replacing it. Poulson and the shipowners were particularly interested in the use of iron to replace the wood of the cracked ribs.

  “If I had my way,” Gideon said, “I’d like to build a ship with its whole skeleton of iron, not just the iron bracing that a few yards have been experimenting with.”

  “Now that’s damned interesting,” one of the strangers replied. “If you got a commission to build such a ship, could you build it here?”

  “I’d have to have a substantial down payment for the equipment I’d need,” Gideon answered levelly, though his heart gave an exultant bound.

  The two strangers looked at each other and then at Poulson, whose expression was noncommittal.

  “Hmm,” one of them remarked and changed the subject.

  They discussed the metal sheathing on the bows of the dories and examined Uncle Bounty’s blocks and deadeyes closely. “You’ve a master smith here somewhere,” Poulson commented. “These aren’t ready-made by any means.”

  “We do indeed,” Gideon answered proudly. “You could tell him you wanted a clock of iron and he’d make one. It’d keep good time, too.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Hand,” one of the strangers said at the end. “It’s been a most enlightening afternoon.”

  Gideon schooled his expression to give away nothing. “Glad to be of service, sir.” An enlightening afternoon, was it? They didn’t think he could do it, and the hell of it was that he didn’t have the capital to go ahead and show them. Blast! With a commission for a real ship, he could be married by Christmas.

  “Tell you what, Mr. Hand,” Poulson said casually as they were all leaving, stamping their feet with the cold. “Why don’t you join me for supper at the Golden Anchor? I’m told they have a superb steak-and-kidney pie, and we can swap some sea yarns. You needn’t dress up — it will just be the two of us.”

  Gideon nodded, startled out of speech. The idea of swapping sea yarns with Captain Poulson was as far from his ability to imagine as swapping sea yarns with God would have been. “Yes, sir,” he managed finally, and watched them climb into a carriage drawn by a fine pair of bays that trotted smartly off until they were lost around a turn.

  Dressed in what little finery he had, he presented himself that night at the Golden Anchor’s common room, only to be told that the gentleman was waiting for him in a private room upstairs.

  “Welcome, my boy, welcome,” said an expansive Poulson whom Gideon had never seen before. “You’re just in time to join me in a mug of hot buttered rum. It’s cold enough outside to freeze the marrow of your bones.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Gideon was fascinated by this creature he had never seen before, a side he never suspected of the hard, callous, driving captain of those frigid waters off the Horn. They traded small talk about shipbuilding, various voyages each had been on, and the like, the idle relaxed conversation of two seamen meeting as strangers ashore.

  ‘Tell me, Mr. Hand, what do you know of the Great Circle route?” Poulson asked suddenly.

  “I shipped as ordinary seaman on the Sea Wind out of New York to Liverpool and back,” Gideon said. “I’d never do it again.”

  “Oh? Why not, may I ask?”

  “Those packets are brutal to work on, sir — I’d almost rather be hanging about off the Horn. They carry far more sail than they ought, to hell with the weather, and the near misses with icebergs are enough to make your heart stop.”

  “You’ve got a point there, Mr. Hand, but of course it’s different from a captain’s point of view. By God, a packet’s the way to make your mark in the world.” He took a long swallow of his rum. “What would you say to building one?”

  Gideon thought he hadn’t heard him right. “How was that, sir?”

  “A packet, Hand,” Poulson said impatiently. “Would you like to build one?”

  Gideon slowly set down his tankard, his mind racing. “Of course I would,” he said finally, “but as to whether I can or not, that’s another point. You saw the yard — it’s nothing but a boatyard now, with one master shipwright, Elam Bridger, a retired blacksmith, three raw lads, and myself, a fairly knowledgeable laborer. Until the Nellie B, we didn’t have two coins to rub together, and we’ve not got much more than that now.”

  “Oh, I saw it all right,” Poulson replied, “and that’s exactly why I want you. If I go to one of the established yards, all I’ll get is a pack of reasons why they can’t build a ship the way I want them to. You’ve had to use a sight of ingenuity even to repair the Nellie B, and I like that. I also like your idea of making an iron skeleton for a ship — just the ticket for those icebergs you were talking about. If you were commissioned to build a ship like that, say a packet of nine hundred to a thousand tons, what would you need?”

  Gideon wished now that he hadn’t let Poulson press the second rum on him. “Let’s see,” he said slowly to gain himself time. “The labor won’t be all that much trouble. We’ll use mainly the itinerant gangs everyone else uses: inboard joiners, outboard joiners, caulkers, riggers, and so on. We’ll have to build forges and install steam winches and the like, and we’ll have to offer a pretty penny to lure enough experienced ironworkers here.” He was ticking his points off on his fingers. “The worst problem is going to be the wood.”

  “How so?” Poulson asked sharply.

  “Unless we get awful lucky and find a shipyard going out of business, we’ll need a couple of months at least to season the wood. We can get them to drag in logs from the lumber camps all right, but it’ll be as green as grass.”

  “We can’t waste that much time. What happens if it isn’t seasoned properly?”

  “It’ll warp, and you’ll lose your caulking. In short, it’ll leak like Billy-be-damned. We might make do in six weeks, but we’d have to soak it in salt water in that case …”

  A serving girl informed them that if they wanted to eat, they would have to order, because the kitchen was closing, and they went on talking through the steak-and-kidney pie, followed by a trifle, and then far into the night until Gideon reeled with weariness.

  “Tomorrow you turn over the Nellie B, and you can start right in on your yard. I’ll want careful accounts kept as to what expenses are labor and materials for the ship and what are yard improvements. You may not have realized it yet, but you now have a partner, Gideon, and there’ll be a substantial draft in your name at the Merchant’s and Seaman’s Bank tomorrow to prove it. I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t make more money from your yard than I do with the packet. Anyhow, I’m partners with eight other men on the ship, but I’ll not share my cut of the shipyard.”

  Gideon went through the following day as if in a dream, his state not helped any by his h
aving gotten only four hours’ sleep. Fortunately Tremont took delivery of the Nellie B in the morning, and they even held a mock launching amid laughter and cheers from the yardworkers and the crew. Then Gideon sat down in earnest conversation with Elam, and by late afternoon was dickering with Slope’s lumber depot for the timbers.

  On his return, Gideon didn’t bother going to the yard or even home, but took the road to Evanston. By this time the winter sun was all but down, the frosty air making the stump of his arm ache. Sally’s house looked exactly as he remembered it, a big rambling frame affair with dormer attic windows that gave it a facelike appearance. Already he could see the glow of lamplight through the stained glass set in the front door; storm shutters covered the lower windows. His heart knocking hard against his breastbone, he tapped the brass knocker that sounded with flat metallic thuds in the cold air.

  The door opened to reveal Sally’s mother, a plump, perpetually worried-looking woman who always seemed to stuff herself into dresses too small for her. She peered at him at first, obviously not recognizing him, then smiled nervously.

  “Why, Gideon Hand! I didn’t know you with that beard. Uh, come in, come in.” She turned without leaving the doorway. “Sally! Sally, it’s Gideon Hand to see you.” Only then did she stand aside.

  He entered the parlor to find before him a frozen tableau. Sally’s father stood with the newspaper still clutched in his hand, on his face a look of consternation. Sally’s look was one of astonishment mixed with horror. Both of them glanced involuntarily at his gloved right hand, the Chinaman’s cunning creation of ivory.

  Gideon broke the silence. “Good evening, sir,” he said to the other man. Then his voice went warm and husky. “Hello, Sally. I told you I’d come, and so I have.”

  “Oh dear,” Sally’s mother dithered behind him.

  Her father took a deep breath and ventured overly heartily, “Well, well, Gideon, back from the sea, are you? Sally, I know you have things to say to this young man,” he went on firmly now. “Why don’t you take a little walk with him?”