Sacred Hunger - Barry Unsworth [25]
‘They are putting in the first of the strakes,’ Kemp said. ‘They have marked out where the next plank is to go, you can see the line of the batten.’
Erasmus narrowed his eyes to see through the bright haze the pale line of the batten that ran a good third of the vessel’s length. Nearby, running alongside the slipway, was the long kiln for steaming the planks – the oak had to be softened until it was pliable enough to be moulded to the shape of the hull. Erasmus could hear the hiss from the copper boiler housed inside; steam rose from it, adding to the sunshot haze.
‘Here’s Thurso now,’ Kemp said. ‘He mentioned that he would come by to see how things are going forward. He has got someone with him.’
They came from beyond the ship, passing through the deep shadows under her bows and out again into sunlight, the square-built, deliberate captain whom he had met already and a lean man, rather dandified, with a sailor’s walk and his hair in a short pigtail. As they came out from the shadows into the sunlit space between the ship’s hull and the beam-sheds, there was a sudden ruffling breeze over the water and Erasmus saw the man with Thurso raise a sharp face and sniff like a dog.
Thurso raised his short black cane to the corner of his cocked hat. ‘I thought I’d bring Mr Barton along with me,’ he said. ‘I have spoke of him before, I think. He is to be my first officer.’
‘Humble servant, sir.’ Barton gave father and son a look and a bow in turn, then took two deferential paces back and stood with his hands at his sides. He had restless black eyes and a thin mouth that smiled easily.
‘Well,’ Thurso said, in his hoarse, uninflected voice, ‘she lies sweetly in the slip. She has been well framed, Mr Kemp.’
‘I am glad to hear you say it.’ The merchant’s look of pleasure was testimony to this. ‘ ’Tis true she sets well, she is broad enough in the beam.’
‘I don’t trust a ship with a narrow bottom,’ Thurso said. ‘Eh, Mr Barton?’
‘Right, Captain, right, hunnerd per cent.’
‘Or a wench either,’ Kemp said. ‘All the same, between you and me, Captain Thurso, I have sometimes repented that I did not have her made bigger. There are Bristol ships that will hold you six hundred negroes, so I am told.’
‘Aye, but how long must they stay on the Guinea coast before they are full-slaved? Why, sir, flux or fever will do for half of ’em before you are ready to sail. We will be home and dry while they are still rotting there. No, take my word for it, a ship the size of this one is what you need, around a hundred and twenty tons’ burden. You’ll get two hundred blacks between decks on the Liverpool Merchant, clean as a whistle, and off again in three months. You’ll see that I am right, sir.’
‘A man can see a deal of things by lookin’,’ Barton said unexpectedly, ‘pervided he knows how to use his lamps.’ His voice was quick and fluent, unhesitating.
‘The strakes they are putting in now will need to be laid right,’ Thurso said. ‘It is the planking lengthways that makes the difference to a ship.’
‘Those already laid fit snug enough. Come down nearer, Thurso, and take a look. You will scarce see the joins between them.’ Face glowing, Kemp drew the captain towards the ship’s side, to where a ladder led up to the work platform high against the hull. A group of workmen waiting at the foot of this for the next piece from the kiln made way for them respectfully.
Erasmus did not follow immediately but turned instead to look out towards the glimmering, slightly ruffled water of the river. On the wharf before him men were hoisting