about Captain Joshua Slocum embarking on a voyage, determined to be the first man to sail around the world alone. Slocum left Boston on April 24 in a sloop named Spray .
Sailing around the world. The adventure sounded marvelous. But who had circled the article? Trip? Harry?
Slocum, she read on, navigated without a chronometer. He simply planned to use a tin clock and the noon sun. It certainly didn’t sound like a safe way to travel. He plotted a course using special lunar tables and tedious computations.
Marguerite tingled just thinking about it. She loved the challenge behind that kind of math. Her male teachers, however, had discouraged her, saying that the female mind wasn’t designed to grasp the complexities of math or science. The memory still chafed.
Perhaps she and Trip could try celestial navigation one night.
Her face flushed hot. What was she thinking? There would be no nighttime excursions, even in the name of science, with Trip Andrews.
Raucous laughter drew her attention. Trip and Lloyd were ribbing Harry about taking more than his share of dances with Emily Graham at the ball the other night. She hadn’t noticed, but then again, she’d been a bit preoccupied.
Trip tossed two more logs beneath the long steel troughs only a few feet from her perch on the stool. He turned to her. “You’re dying to ask about the troughs, aren’t you?”
“I admit I have an insatiable curiosity.”
“We keep water in this lower trough. It steams the red cedar timbers in the trough above that we use for planking the hulls. The steam keeps them pliable.”
He crossed the room into the office and returned bearing a large sheet of rolled paper under his arm. Moving to an empty table, he untied the string holding the sheet together and spread out the elaborate plans. He glanced at Marguerite. She knew immediately she’d been caught watching him. Warmth rose from her neck.
Trip motioned her over. “Might as well take care of some of that curiosity.”
Marguerite grinned and hurried over. “What is this?”
“Plans for a round bilge sailboat hull.” His hand swept over the complicated drawings where angles and lines crisscrossed the sheet.
“Which one is it for?”
“None of these. We haven’t built it yet.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “But there’s one here like it. Want to guess which one it is?”
Marguerite studied the plans, then shifted her eyes to the boats in the workshop area. “Is it the one Harry is working on?”
He grinned. “You’ve got a good eye. We haven’t even put the sides on the hull yet.”
“Where did these plans come from?”
“Dad drew the designs. I’m the loftsman.”
Having not seen a loft anywhere, she glanced upward.
“The loftsman transfers the lines plan to a full-sized plan.” He chuckled. “I’ll transfer these plans first onto the floor and then onto the wood.”
“You draw on wood?”
“Sure. I’ll use a small nail and a batten to fair the boat lines too.”
“You know, you sound like you’re speaking Greek. Can you explain it to me? What’s fairing?”
“Technically, it’s joining the surfaces so they blend smoothly. Artistically, it’s seeing a boat in your mind while it’s still lines on the paper.” He pointed to the drawing. “See here? These are three views of the same hull – the side view, the plan view, and the body plan.”
“And you have to turn those three views into a boat.” Her finger traced the intricate curves on the drawing. The math involved in the arcs had to be staggering. “Can you draw plans too?”
He nodded.
“Can I help you with the lofting? Numbers, lines, plot points – they all fascinate me.”
After considering her request for a minute, he tapped the plans. “It’s complex.”
“And you don’t think a woman can handle that?”
“No.” He gave her a cockeyed grin. “I think you can handle just about anything. But it takes a good teacher, and I’m not sure I’m patient
Sailing around the world. The adventure sounded marvelous. But who had circled the article? Trip? Harry?
Slocum, she read on, navigated without a chronometer. He simply planned to use a tin clock and the noon sun. It certainly didn’t sound like a safe way to travel. He plotted a course using special lunar tables and tedious computations.
Marguerite tingled just thinking about it. She loved the challenge behind that kind of math. Her male teachers, however, had discouraged her, saying that the female mind wasn’t designed to grasp the complexities of math or science. The memory still chafed.
Perhaps she and Trip could try celestial navigation one night.
Her face flushed hot. What was she thinking? There would be no nighttime excursions, even in the name of science, with Trip Andrews.
Raucous laughter drew her attention. Trip and Lloyd were ribbing Harry about taking more than his share of dances with Emily Graham at the ball the other night. She hadn’t noticed, but then again, she’d been a bit preoccupied.
Trip tossed two more logs beneath the long steel troughs only a few feet from her perch on the stool. He turned to her. “You’re dying to ask about the troughs, aren’t you?”
“I admit I have an insatiable curiosity.”
“We keep water in this lower trough. It steams the red cedar timbers in the trough above that we use for planking the hulls. The steam keeps them pliable.”
He crossed the room into the office and returned bearing a large sheet of rolled paper under his arm. Moving to an empty table, he untied the string holding the sheet together and spread out the elaborate plans. He glanced at Marguerite. She knew immediately she’d been caught watching him. Warmth rose from her neck.
Trip motioned her over. “Might as well take care of some of that curiosity.”
Marguerite grinned and hurried over. “What is this?”
“Plans for a round bilge sailboat hull.” His hand swept over the complicated drawings where angles and lines crisscrossed the sheet.
“Which one is it for?”
“None of these. We haven’t built it yet.” His eyes sparkled mischievously. “But there’s one here like it. Want to guess which one it is?”
Marguerite studied the plans, then shifted her eyes to the boats in the workshop area. “Is it the one Harry is working on?”
He grinned. “You’ve got a good eye. We haven’t even put the sides on the hull yet.”
“Where did these plans come from?”
“Dad drew the designs. I’m the loftsman.”
Having not seen a loft anywhere, she glanced upward.
“The loftsman transfers the lines plan to a full-sized plan.” He chuckled. “I’ll transfer these plans first onto the floor and then onto the wood.”
“You draw on wood?”
“Sure. I’ll use a small nail and a batten to fair the boat lines too.”
“You know, you sound like you’re speaking Greek. Can you explain it to me? What’s fairing?”
“Technically, it’s joining the surfaces so they blend smoothly. Artistically, it’s seeing a boat in your mind while it’s still lines on the paper.” He pointed to the drawing. “See here? These are three views of the same hull – the side view, the plan view, and the body plan.”
“And you have to turn those three views into a boat.” Her finger traced the intricate curves on the drawing. The math involved in the arcs had to be staggering. “Can you draw plans too?”
He nodded.
“Can I help you with the lofting? Numbers, lines, plot points – they all fascinate me.”
After considering her request for a minute, he tapped the plans. “It’s complex.”
“And you don’t think a woman can handle that?”
“No.” He gave her a cockeyed grin. “I think you can handle just about anything. But it takes a good teacher, and I’m not sure I’m patient
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