The valley of horses_ a novel - Jean M. Auel [128]
“You have smiles on your faces. That must mean it stretched all right,” the young woman said to Carlono, though her eyes quickly sought Thonolan.
“We’ll know better when it dries,” Carlono said, careful not to tempt fate. “How are the strakes coming?”
“They’re finished. We’re working on house planks now,” an older woman replied. She resembled Carlono, in her way, as much as Markeno, especially when she smiled. “A young couple needs more than a boat. There is more to life, Brother dear.”
“Your brother is as anxious to get them mated as you are, Carolio,” Barono said, smiling as the two young people transfixed each other with lovelorn smiles, though they said not a word. “But what good is a house without a boat?”
Carolio gave him an aggrieved stare. It was a longstanding Ramudoi aphorism, meant to be witty, that had become tiresome with the retelling.
“Ahh!” Barono exclaimed. “It broke again!”
“He’s clumsy today,” Carolio said. “That’s the third drill he’s broken. I think he’s trying to get out of boring holes.”
“Don’t be so hard on your mate,” Carlono said. “Everyone breaks drills. It can’t be helped.”
“She’s right about one thing. Boring holes. I can’t think of anything more boring,” Barono said, with a wide grin at everyone’s groan.
“He thinks he’s funny. What can be worse than a mate who thinks he’s funny?” Carolio appealed to the general company. Everyone smiled. They knew the banter only masked great affection.
“If you have spare drill, I try make holes,” Jondalar said.
“Is there something wrong with this young man? No one wants to drill holes,” Barono said, but he quickly got up.
“Jondalar has taken quite an interest in boat making,” Carlono said. “He’s tried his hand at everything.”
“We may make a Ramudoi out of him yet!” Barono said. “I always thought he was an intelligent young man. I’m not so sure about the other one, though,” he added, smiling at Thonolan, who hadn’t paid attention to anything except Jetamio. “I think a tree could fall on him and he wouldn’t know it. Don’t we have something worthwhile for him to do?”
“He could gather wood for the steam box, or strip willow withes for sewing the planks,” Carlono said. “As soon as the dugout is dry and we get holes drilled around the hull, we’ll be ready to bend the planks to fit around it. How long do you think it will take to finish her, Barono? We should let the Shamud know, so a day can be decided for the mating. Dolando will need to send messengers to other Caves.”
“What else needs to be done?” Barono asked, as they started toward an area where sturdy posts were sunk into the ground.
“The prow and stern posts still have to be scarfed on, and … are you coming, Thonolan?” Markeno said.
“Wha—! Oh … yes, coming.”
After they left, Jondalar picked up a bone drill set in an antler handle and watched Carolio use one like it. “Why holes?” he asked, when he had made a few.
Carlono’s twin sister was as preoccupied with boats as her brother—for all the teasing—and as much an expert in fastenings and fittings as he was in gouging and shaping. She started to explain, then got up and led Jondalar to another work area where a boat was partially dismantled.
Unlike a raft, which depended upon the buoyancy of its structural materials to float, the principle of the Sharamudoi watercraft was to enclose a pocket of air within a wooden shell. It was a significant innovation allowing greater maneuverability and the capability of transporting much heavier loads. The planks, which were used to extend the basic dugout into a larger boat, were bent to fit the curved hull using heat and steam, and then literally sewn on, usually with willow through predrilled holes, and pegged to solid prow and stern posts. Supports, placed at intervals along both sides, were added later for reinforcement and to attach seats.
Done well, the result was a waterproof shell which could resist the tensions and stresses of hard use for several years. Eventually, though, wear and deterioration of the willow fibers required the boats to be completely