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"How does she shape?" Cofflin called up. "Everything looks good from here."
Marian Alston came out from behind a rib and climbed down the board staircase stiffly, limping over to them with a roll of plans in one hand.
"Shapes like the beauty she is," she said. "We'll have her ready to come down the slipway by the begi
"Fast work," Cofflin said.
"The next one will go a lot faster, with what we've learned. And Leaton's made up some more compressed-air power tools. It'd take a year, if we were usin' hand methods only."
"Decided what to call her yet?" he said.
"Well, that's not entirely my say-so…" Alston began.
Cofflin snorted. "The hell it isn't, after what you did."
"Frederick Douglass, I thought. He worked as a caulker in a shipyard for a while, you know, before he got free. And Harriet Tubman for number two."
Martha nodded. "Excellent choices, Marian," she said, sighing and sinking back on an upturned bucket. Her stomach curved out the loose dress she wore. "More sore ankles."
"You work too much, Martha," Alston said.
"Hell, those are my lines," Cofflin gri
"Speaking of straightforward," Alston said, tapping the rolled plans into her other hand, "I'll need to make some promotions when we commission the schooners. Bump Ortiz and Hendriksson to lieutenant commander and give them each a couple of ensigns and lieutenants. I have my eye on some of the upperclassmen for that."
"Sounds good," Cofflin said. Alston was always conscientious about recognizing the supremacy of the civil authorities, and he didn't interfere in her bailiwick. "I assume your second-in-command agrees?"
"Certainly. I'd like to move Sandy up to commander as well, for symmetry's sake. For that matter I'm going to be leaving her in command of Eagle a good deal of the time, when we get to Britain."
Cofflin nodded. "Again, no problem. We can put together some sort of ceremony, I suppose. I wish everything went as easily."
"Don't tell me-y'all've just come from another Constitutional Committee meeting?"
"Almost as bad," Cofflin said, shuddering slightly for effect. "Finance." He dug in one pocket of his parka. "Here. Three bucks."
He flipped the coin to Alston. She caught it; it was gold, about the size of. a dime, with LIBERTY on one side beneath an eagle's wings, and Republic of Nantucket: 1 A.E. on the other. The picture inside that was a lighthouse-specifically, Brant Point lighthouse at the northwestern entrance to the harbor.
"I thought you were going to use the Unitarian Church tower?" she said. "Don't tell me…"
"All the other denominations objected. One-tenth of an ounce fine gold, though, eighteen-karat-smelted down from jewelry. Starbuck swears gold-based money'll work. God knows we need a currency. Swapping is so damned awkward."
"Useful for trade, once the locals get the idea." She looked down at the coin. "Can't say 'queer as a three-dollar bill' anymore, can we?"
"Ah… hadn't thought of that." He gave a dry chuckle; it was fu
"We need a constitution, and that's more important than this." She jerked her head at the schooner. "Much as I hate to admit it."
They both sat on stacks of boards, and began to massage their injured legs with an identical gesture. "The Twin Gimps," Alston said.
Cofflin snorted. "You could spend more time on the Constitutional Committee, then," he said. "Since it's so damn important."
"A cobbler should stick to her last and a sailor to her ship. I just don't have your capacity to endure fools," she said, with a slight momentary smile he'd learned was her equivalent of a grin. "Didn't I get the Arnsteins to enroll? Aren't they a help?"
"Too much. Every time I turn around they're telling us how the Republic of Venice or the Hanseatic League or ancient Athens did it-Ian's always trying to pin some unpronounceable Greek name on everything we do, at that. It's as intimidating as hell. Then Sam Macy loses his temper with them, and I have to smooth it over."
"Thus getting your own way," Martha pointed out. "Politics may not be your trade, dear, but you're learning it."
Damn, but it's… energizing… being married to someone smarter than you are, he thought.
"How's it look, basically?" Alston asked, leaning forward to get out of the way of someone carrying two buckets of hot tar on the ends of a shoulder yoke. The strong scent made Martha hold her breath for a moment.
"Oh, a republic with a chief executive-everyone seems to like the name-and a Council, reporting to the Town Meeting and with appointments subject to confirmation, and the Meeting to pass laws and review and vote on all the major decisions," Cofflin said. "That's the bare bones. Right now we're thrashing out whether the militia should be separate from the Coast Guard, and whether the commander of that should be called an admiral or not. Want to be an admiral?"
"Only if I can wear one of those fancy fore-and-aft hats and gold braid," Alston said dryly.
"Talk of calling you people the Republic of Nantucket Navy, too."
That brought her upright and indignant, as he expected. "Look, Cofflin-" She saw his grin, and relaxed. "Sorry, but tell them Guard people would rather barbecue their mothers. No offense-I know you were a squid."
"None taken," he said. "And they're debating whether the Town Meeting can amend the constitution with a simple majority or not; Arnstein's strong for a two-thirds vote two years ru
"Sounds reasonable," Alston said. "Christ, you know how a crowd can get, 'specially when someone tells them what they all want to hear."
"You could come and tell the committee…" he said.
"You've got a fund of low cu
"So at this point, you just pack up and go home," William Walker said.
Shaumsrix scowled; he was an experienced war chief by Iraiina standards. "Of course. We can't take the fort, we don't have enough men, and if we wait here too long many will get sick in this cold and wet. Or nearby chiefs will come and overfall us with numbers we can't match, even though this chief is at feud with all his neighbors. We've taken many cattle and sheep, and horses, yes-I admit that your riders let us surprise them that way. Now we should go home and guard against their revenge."
Walker leaned his hands on the pommel of his saddle and looked around at his own followers. Most of them were mounted; chariot ponies broke to the saddle easily enough, and at thirteen hands were big enough to carry a man if he changed off every so often. They stamped and fretted a little, their newly shod hooves squelching in the damp earth, breath blowing white from their flaring nostrils into the chilly air of late fall.
"Time for our next surprise, boys," he said. "Break out the axes."
An ox-wagon creaked up behind them. Not the local kind, two solid wheels and two beasts; this was as close as he could get to a Boer trek wagon or a Conestoga, with eight yoke pulling it via a stout iron chain. It wasn't fast, but it could carry a couple of tons of weight pretty well anywhere.
"More magic?" the Iraiina said fearfully.
"Just a little applied mechanics," Walker said. Shaumsrix made a sign with his fingers.
It took all that day and most of the next to set the engine up. At last Walker stepped forward and took the lanyard. A swift tug…