“Something to consider,” Tucker said. “No one can mistake it for theirs if you’ve put your stamp on it.” He and Chang set up the checkers cloth and began to play.
Harriet had planned to give the knife to Gabriel. How much more personal, though, would it be with a scrimshaw carving on the handle? “What would you recommend for a design? I’m fair at painting with watercolors and can sketch with charcoal, but I’ve never had the chance to carve or etch before.”
Jack produced a slate and chalk from his kit bag, and they drew one design after another. None seemed worth the effort or within her ability until she thought of the sleek dolphins that swam alongside the ship periodically and bumped her bare feet when she was on bow watch. She sketched one leaping out of the water.
“Simple is good,” Jack said. He showed her how to prepare the bone handle with beeswax and let her use his supplies. She spent time making sure it was properly buffed and sealed to get it ready.
Jonesy came down for a mug of grog and briefly stood beside the table, watching the checkers game and chatting with Jack about his latest scrimshaw project. Norton sat on a water cask while he fussed with his pipe and tobacco before going up for a smoke.
While Jack was scribing, he let her use his pencil to sketch the pattern on her handle. It didn’t take long to get the simple design to her satisfaction. She couldn’t borrow Jack’s scribing tool while he was using it, so she set aside her knife to watch the checkers game and observe Jack transform the plain comb into a work of art.
“I’m surprised you want flowers on your comb,” she couldn’t help saying when she saw enough of the design to recognize the image on it.
“T’ain’t going to be mine for long,” he replied with a wide grin. “I always ‘ave things to sell when we get into port.”
Smitty came through and set a small, rolled pouch on the table in front of her. “For Harry, with Mr. Jones’s compliments,” he said, and was gone down the passageway before she could respond.
She untied the cord and unrolled the dark leather pouch, revealing all the tools and supplies needed to complete a scrimshaw project, except for the object to be decorated.
Jack poked through the kit. “That’s from the slop chest,” he said. “Good kit.”
Harriet frowned. How much would it cost her? She already owed Nick for so many expenses.
Jack must have recognized the direction of her thoughts. “Smitty ain’t going to charge you for it.”
“No?”
Jack shook his head. “It’s from the first mate, ‘e said so.”
“Oh. Well in that case, I should get to work.” She slipped the cork off the scribing tool’s sharp point and started scribing the design of the dolphin into her knife handle.
Chang jumped a checker over two of Tucker’s, reaching the far side. “King me,” he said.
“Blast you,” Tucker said. He kinged the checker and took his turn.
There was quiet while Chang considered his next move, and Jack and Harriet worked on their projects.
“Mrs. Brown,” Tucker said out of nowhere.
They all stared at him.
“William Brown, of the HMS Queen Charlotte,” Tucker added.
“Oh, aye,” Jack said. He looked up from his comb to grin at Harriet. “You could be another Mrs. Brown.”
“Who?”
“’T’was all over the Navy news last year,” Tucker said. “William Brown signed on as able seaman with the Queen Charlotte and served for ‘bout eleven years. When prize money was owed, her husband got wind and sued to get his share of her prize money. Went to court.”
“William Brown is a woman?” Harriet said in disbelief. She was familiar with many of the larger ships in the King’s fleet. “She served for years on a hundred-gun ship with over six hundred crew, and they didn’t know William was a woman until her husband took her to court?”
“Aye.” Tucker impatiently gestured for Chang to make his move already.
Chang moved a checker. “Did he get money?”
Tucker jumped three checkers. “King me. I dinna know, but when all was done, she went back into service on the Queen Charlotte.”
Harriet felt her mouth fall open. She closed it.
