“There"s talent in Westburn,” Mr. Monty said. “That"s a bonny frigate.”
The yard belonged to the elite that built naval ships, bringing honour to the town, and the gifted men who created the beautiful Men of War; their skills and enterprise bound the community of Westburn. If the naval work vanished Westburn would decline further.
They walked on, passing the stocks to the last slipway, looking up at the part-built hull of a merchantman, casting a shadow over the yard gate. The yards would not collapse this year, perhaps not in five years, but ten years? Mr. Monty could not see a new generation of leadership emerging in the yards or in the community to reverse the decline and restore Westburn"s glory.
“It can"t last, Nathan. I don"t see another frigate on the stocks. Will there be more n
