Marlene Dotterer - Shipbuilder

“I know.” She placed a finger against his mouth, then stood, lifting the skirt of her nightgown and sinking onto his lap, legs astride him. “My mother was an obstetrician, remember. My father never gave her a hard time for the hours she worked. I try to follow his example.”

“Building ships is not quite comparable to delivering babies,” he said, but she shrugged.

“It’s your chosen career. Thank you for replying to Jessie’s note. I let her know we’ll be coming. But…” She hesitated.

“What?”

“Can I trouble you for another appointment?”

“I’ll try. What is it?”

She ran a finger along the buttons of his shirt. “I need a few minutes of your time tonight, say about ten o’clock. I’ll make it worth your while.”

He thought about it, then retrieved his watch from its pocket, flipping open the gold lid with practiced fingers. He nodded as he placed the watch on the table next to the divan. “I can arrange to be free at that time.” He traced a finger up her leg. “What did you have in mind?”

She sputtered a laugh, leaning forward to kiss him. “Keep still. I’ll show you.”

“Casey!” Jessie hugged Casey as she and Tom entered the stately foyer of John and Jessie’s home on Friday. “You look wonderful, dear. And who have you brought with you?” Her eye critically appraised Tom and she raised an eyebrow at her sister-in-law. “Such a handsome fellow, dear. Where do you find them?”

“Oh, this one was on the corner, Jessie. He looked so woebegone, that I had to bring him. I hope it’s all right?” Casey sounded serious, but Tom didn’t look concerned. He just hugged Casey to him, at the same time catching Jessie in an effortless head lock, making her squeal in comic protest.

“John? John!” Tom looked around for his brother, who entered just behind an anxious eight-year-old Jack, whose eyes widened at his mother’s predicament. “Ah, there you are, fellow! I’m keeping this one,” and Tom dropped a kiss on Casey’s head, “but what on earth should I do with this one?” indicating the squirming Jessie with his chin. “She’s frightfully noisy.”

John held up both hands. “You can let her go. She means well, really.”

“Ah, well then,” and Tom let her go gently, with a supporting hand kept to her back. “Do try to keep track of her, will you?”

Jessie straightened, dignity never wavering. “There’s no chance of that, you know,” she told Tom, tucking a strand of hair back under its pin. “He hasn’t been able to keep up for years.”

Young Jack was allowed to stay up for a few minutes to visit with his uncle and aunt, who had not made it to Comber for several weeks. They heard about Jack’s latest school project and then, at Jack’s insistence, Tom launched into a description of the great ships taking shape at ‘Grand-Uncle Willie’s shipyard’.

“Oh my, we are ever so busy these days,” he told them in his best story-telling mode. “The Olympic is nearly complete, and I must say, she is the grandest lady I’ve ever set to sail the sea. There’s not a ship in the world that’s larger than she is and there won’t be, until the Titanic sets sail later.”

Jack’s eyes widened more and more, as his uncle continued his description. “We’ve still got to finish painting the passenger’s quarters in third class and I’ve got ovens and hot plates and ice boxes to be delivered next week. Enough ovens to cook for over two thousand people! And the last week of this month, she begins her sea trials, then it’s off on her maiden voyage to New York on thirty-first May.” Tom leaned back in his chair, the bard keeping his audience enthralled as he went on with his story.

“Now, thirty-first May. Let me tell you, that will be some day! The Olympic finishes her trials, and returns to the dock in the morning. And at 12:15 p.m., the grandest sight of all will occur, for at that time, the Titanic will be launched!” Tom dramatically lifted a hand to his brow. “Oh the to-do! You’ve no idea what it takes to launch a ship, do you?”

His audience obediently shook their heads and Tom leaned forward in earnestness. “We have to let everyone know when it’s happening, for one thing. Announcements in the news, especially in foreign lands—we have to give the American and European journalists time to arrive. The ship’s owners, the insurers, the harbor commissioners, the Board of Trade… the list is as long my arm! We have to make sure the engines and boilers are ready to go. We have to test the ship itself to make sure all the drain holes are filled and the plates on the hull are closed. Oh, and we have to have plenty of chains and ropes connected to the ship. Can you imagine if we launch her and she just kept sailing off down the lough? We have to be able to stop her once she’s in the water!” This last was said with sternness and increased volume over the guffaws of his listeners.

“Caulkers and carpenters have to be ready, the flagpole installed, and woe is me if I forget to have the flags ready to fly! And do you have any idea how much tallow we need?” Tom spread his arms as wide as he could and stood to indicate a height much taller than himself. “More’n that, I’m telling you! Every bit of the ship bottom and sides has to be covered in tallow, so she can slide into the water. Och, the smell of that stuff as we cook it!” He sat down again, expression fretful. “But what we need most is men.” He nodded seriously. “Aye, lots of men, to knock away the boards and scaffolding so the ship floats free. Uncle Willie has tasked me especially, to make sure we have enough men to do the job.”

He looked at his brother, exceedingly worried. “I’m afraid I’m missing one. I need just one more, even a young lad will do, to help knock away the boards.”

Jack could not contain himself. “Me, Uncle Tommy! I can do it! I’m big enough!” He waved his arms frantically, and jumped up and down, as if to make certain his uncle could see him.

Tom turned a stern visage on the youngster, eyebrows nearly to his hairline. “You? Och, I’m not sure, lad. “Tis an important job, you see.”

“I can! I even launched my own boat of sticks a week ago! I know I can! Da’, tell him!”

“Oh, so you have experience, too, is it?” Tom looked to his brother for confirmation and received a quiet nod, although the eyes shone with pride and laughter.

“Aye, he did, and well enough.” But John was not so easily swayed. He stared at his son, lips pursed. “Ye’d have to miss school, lad. What about that?”

“I’ll write a report!” was the instant rejoinder, causing every adult to burst into laughter. Tom reached out a hand.

“All right, then. Consider yourself part of the Board Demolition Team, lad,” and he was nearly knocked over by sixty pounds of boyish excitement as Jack threw himself into his uncle’s arms, a loud “Yippee!” deafening all of them. Jack recovered enough to firmly shake his uncle’s hand, as Tom told him, “I’ll make sure your Da’ will know when and where to have you there. Mind you, you’ll have to do exactly as you’re told. It’s a dangerous place, lad.”

Jack solemnly promised to obey, and at his mother’s word he kissed each of them goodnight and followed his nanny to bed.

Tom’s story had not included even a small fraction of the tasks left to do to prepare for both the launching of one ship, and the turning over of another ship to its owners. Since he was sailing on the Olympic’s maiden voyage as head of the guarantee group, Tom gave that project his strictest attention. As the first of the grand ships to sail, the Olympic had the dedicated attention of the press, including an eight-page spread in Shipbuilder Magazine . The ship must be completely ready for its maiden voyage. Tom was leaving nothing to chance.