Lucky's Lady

Chapter Two-2

He nodded and rose as Mr. Watkins excused himself, but before leaving the room, Watkins gave Lucky a wink as he made his way toward the stairwell, “Feel free to use my office, Mrs. Watkins.”

Lucky quickly glanced back at Mrs. Watkins and for a fraction of a moment, he thought he saw fear, or perhaps uncertainty cross her brow. He hoped she wasn’t afraid of being alone with him. God alone knew he’d never harm her. Quite the opposite, he wanted to bring her to his cabin and worship her body until the sun rose the following morning.

“I always do, Mr. Watkins,” she replied.

Lucky noticed she treated her husband as an employer, rather than a husband or partner, which again made him wonder at the nature of their relationship. But, when it came right down to it, it didn’t matter. The earthy and intelligent Mrs. Watkins had a husband who was a likable enough man. He was a man Lucky could respect and admire for his accomplishments. And Lucky had a long held stipulation when it came to dallying with married women—if the man was a friend he wouldn’t tup the wife.

This woman might be the one and only time he ever violated his own rule.

Mary-Michael smiled and turned to their new client. “I have an idea. Since it is already starting to get warm in here, perhaps you might like to walk through Ajax, as she is nearly done. You can get a feel for the fittings and layout, then tell me what you like and dislike.”

Captain Gualtiero loosened the top button of his shirt and nodded. Mary-Michael was fascinated by the indentation revealed at the base of his throat when he parted the starched white collar. Sometimes she wished she could do the same, but no respectable woman would do anything of the sort. What she could do, though, was remove the jacket that was causing her discomfort. So she unbuttoned it and slid it off, hanging it on the coat rack in the corner of her office. Immediately she felt much more comfortable in her short-sleeved blouse. Placing her wide-brimmed hat on her head, she cleared her throat and collected her graphite pencil and writing board with a few sheets of paper. “Let’s take a walk, Captain.”

They left her husband’s office and walked past Andrew Nawton, who worked on another client’s final drawings. Mary-Michael took the opportunity to introduce their draftsman to their new client, letting the captain know that this was the man who would produce the duplicates of her originals. “Like all the tradesman in our company, Mr. Nawton is the best at what he does.”

They continued down the hallway and stairs to the main doors where her very handsome new client held the door open for her. Mary-Michael thanked him, calling him captain. Her breath caught in her chest when she detected his fresh soap-and-water scent as she walked past him. She caught his gaze as she passed and he smiled, causing her knees to weaken.

“Please, call me Lucky.”

She felt an odd clenching in the vicinity of her lower belly. It was too soon. Even if she was going to wind up in his bed for that much-desired infant, it was too soon to give him this much intimacy. “I’ve never been on a Christian-name basis with a client before, Captain, and to address you in such a familiar manner goes against my upbringing.”

“I’m sorry. I only thought to make the conversation flow more comfortably between us,” he replied, the soft timbre of his voice revealing a trace of an accent other than English.

Mary-Michael let the comment pass. She wasn’t going to enter into any conversation with him that did not pertain one hundred percent to the construction of his two clippers. Not yet. She led the way toward Ajax, knowing he followed. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her back. She realized perhaps she wasn’t dressed in the most conventional of clothes, but she had a job that entailed a great deal of outdoor supervision, walking and climbing. A woman couldn’t do what she had to do daily, wearing a dress. Which is why she always wore breeks or trousers to the shipyard.

“One at a time up the plank. I’ll go first.” She strode onto the board they used as a gangplank and walked onto the main deck, her client behind her.

“I’m amazed that you did that so effortlessly,” he said with a hint of admiration in his voice.

She would not succumb to his charm. She would not. “Captain, I climb aboard this boat every day. Just as I will climb aboard your boat every day while it is under construction. It’s how I know the quality of work coming from our yard is the best it can be. And, if I may be allowed to brag, among the finest in the world.”

“Have you ever fallen into the water?”

“Of course. The last time was two years ago, after we’d had a cold night. I didn’t think it was cold enough to ice, but I stepped on the plank, slipped, and fell in. Because of that fall, every winter we now have a bucket of sand at the base of the ramp. First man up spreads sand for those who follow. And we continue to spread sand until the sun melts the ice.”

“Ingenious.”

“No, Captain Gualtiero, practical.” She smiled at him. “If you wish to know anything about me at all, sir, it’s that I am very practical.”

Mary-Michael began the tour of the topside structures in the fo’c’sle, getting his opinions on the arrangement she’d designed here. Her head easily cleared the overhead, while her companion had to duck his head. “This is a general cargo clipper. The difference in design is not noticed up here but rather below, in the hold. The owner does not plan to house crewmen in this area under the anchor deck, but livestock for consumption.” She pointed out the chicken coop on one side and the pens for pigs and sheep on the other. “There are two privies forward, one rear, and one in each of her two cabins.” She delicately tapped a foot on the fore hatch as they came back into the light. “This opens to the sail locker which we will see from below.” They continued toward the rear of the vessel and she pointed up for him to see the placement of the lifeboats on the roof of the deckhouse. “This freed up space on the main deck and got them out of the way. There will also be two gigs in the rear.”

Seeing him stop and look into the glass of the deckhouse, Mary-Michael asked, “Would you like to go inside?” When he nodded, she opened the door and held it for him. “As I mentioned, this is a general cargo ship. The owner wanted his galley midship, in the deckhouse. So that is the entirety of this area.” She pointed out the sandbox and coal box, and the space in the center for the cast iron stove placement. Construction of the tables and benches was underway, and she introduced the new client to the carpenters before moving toward the rear of the ship.

“Ajax, as you can see, is one hundred and sixty feet, has a raised quarter deck with two cabins and crew quarters below.” She led the way down into the saloon. “Since you’re looking at one hundred and eighty feet, my recommendation is a long, raised quarter deck.” She met his gaze again but she was in control of her emotions this time, because she was talking about one of her creations, her life’s work. “You have the room for it. And within that long deck, you can have two very large cabins, or four nice-sized cabins. You could also make them smaller, say six or eight small cabins, with just berths to sleep up to four in each.”

“Neither of us plans to transport passengers. That is not our business. But we did both want two well-appointed, large cabins.” He looked around at the furnishings of the saloon. “I think a common area such as this with a dining table and library would be nice.” He ran a hand along the leather cushions and looked up at the skylight. “Brilliant idea.”

“Thank you. Tell me what you think so far.” It was easier for her to think of him as just another client, rather than someone who rattled her nerves. Someone whose very presence made her skin hypersensitive to his proximity and made her heart race each time he looked her way. She hoped these feelings would subside the more she worked with him and was around him. So far what she was finding was the opposite. In fact, the more time she spent with him, and the more comfortable she got being around him, the more her entire body would quiver under his scrutiny. She sometimes caught him eying her in an odd manner and it discomfited her. Yet she desired it. Wanted more of it.

“I’m very impressed.” His words sent a swell of pride surging through her. His hand trailed along a fiddle rail of the bookcase. “The fittings, the brass, leather, and ivory are exceptional, but what I find the most impressive are the innovative changes made to the placement of galley, the hold for livestock, and cabins. I’m sure I will be equally surprised when I see the below deck areas.”

“I hope so,” she replied. “We are very proud of the work we do. Customization to the client’s needs is not an obstacle to doing the job.”

After looking through the cabins and seeing the finishings, they went topside again to see the steering deck arrangements, the wheel, the wheel housing, and mechanicals. Then they began their tour below in the various cargo holds.

“Even though the hull and supports are of solid wood,” she began, “I like to use iron knees for stability.” He appeared to not understand so she explained. “When we build longer ships, we need extra strengthening on the long axis, so I use diagonal bracing in here and extra keel pieces in the keel construction.” She continued toward the center flooring where the mainmast tied in. “My design also uses side keelsons, to strengthen the bottom under the mainmast.”

Mary-Michael stopped to point out rib construction and placement. “I’m not sure that you can tell, but as we move forward, rib placement is closer together, adding strength to the entire structure, most especially to the keel. Doing this reduces the severity of hogging a great deal, but cannot eliminate it entirely.”

She looked to the captain, trying to gauge how likely he was to allow her to experiment with the construction of his ships. “Captain, I have an idea that I would like to try, and if you are willing to allow me to experiment, I think your ships would be perfect for testing my latest idea.”

“What would that be?”

“I would like to try alternating wooden and iron ribs in your hull structures. I believe it will make the structure even stronger. And as we are building two sisters of exact same length and appointments, I think building one with and one without the iron would definitely allow me to monitor how they handle and how they weather over the years.” Mary thought he looked interested, yet skeptical. “There will be no difference in the cargo capacity, no difference in cost to your company, as this is something I am currently researching for future ships I design.”

“Will it add much weight to the structure?”

“Not enough to be significant, I assure you.” He studied the ribs in front of them. Ajax was a fine ship, one of the finest she’d built to date, one which he could surely find no fault. Just when she thought for sure he would pass on her proposition, he surprised her.

“I will try your idea, on one, mine. For Ian, give him the conventional wood, and we shall see if there is any difference.”

Mary-Michael’s heart soared. She released her pent-up breath. Relieved that finally she’d found someone who believed in the science of architecture enough to trust her design.

“Thank you, Captain. I appreciate you allowing me to build this.”

“I think your idea has merit, Mrs. Watkins,” her client said.

“I would think that if you sent me a letter each time you had hull work done, detailing the degree of bend in the keel, or if there had been any warping, that would be enough for me to continue my research on preventing hogging. I do believe over time we shall see more iron used in hull construction of the ocean-going sailing ships. Iron hulls are already in use in paddle wheelers and canal barges. I truly believe the innovations that are in the works for ship design and building will revolutionize the industry.”