The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,61
his ship ploughed through the waters just south of the village of Cornwall. The midday river was busy with boats of all shapes and sizes running the profitable route between Montreal, Canada West, and New York State. More often than not, Big John would recognize a fellow boat captain, give two short rings on the tarnished brass bell that hung outside the wheelhouse, and wave. The captain on the passing boat would smile and return a similar salute.
“The Kentson is my first steamship,” he explained to Jamie, patting the wheel. “On these waters, she and I have seen too many joys and tragedies to count. The ghosts of twenty years of hauling cargo, moving passengers, and avoiding almost certain disaster … all of those memories have permeated the railings and bulkheads of this old girl. It’s just too bad a ship is like you and me, she can’t live on forever.”
Jamie saw the imposing captain admire his rusting ship the way he had seen many priests admire their dilapidated abbeys. Jamie understood Big John’s emotions perfectly.
“It sounds like you’re getting close to giving her up.”
Big John sighed. “You’re right. In fact, this is the old girl’s last run.”
Jamie leaned back on the rail. “Really? Then I guess you’ll have to tell me a little bit more about her.”
“Her Boulton and Watt engine was built in 1817 and saw duty on two previous ships before I purchased it right off the dock in the Port of Montreal. It took me a year to modify this ship to take on the engine’s enormous bulk and the twenty-foot paddlewheel on her portside. But in the end, it was all worth it. I’ve built up enough capital over the years of running goods up and down the St. Lawrence to go out and buy a new ship with a proper propeller.”
Jamie raised his eyebrows. “I’ve never seen a propeller-driven ship.”
The captain laughed. “It’s the future, lad! Soon, all the ships will have them. The best thing about my beautiful new ship is not the propeller though, it’s the engine. My new compound engine is kept in the stern, which translates into a doubling of my ship’s cargo space. With so much cargo capacity, I’ll also be doubling my profits in no time.”
“And then you’ll be happy?” asked Jamie.
“You have to think big, son. This is how you do it. You take your profits from the one ship you own and then invest the money into purchasing two or three more ships. Next, with your greater market share, you run your competition into the ground by lowering prices. Then, you buy even more ships until you dominate the industry. My goal is not just to be the biggest shipping company under Mohawk ownership, but the biggest shipping company in all of Canada!”
“I wish you all the best with your dream. Did you say you’re Mohawk? I read that Mohawks are part of a larger Iroquois nation.”
He nodded. “We’re one of six tribes that make up the confederacy. Our land is just southwest of Montreal.”
The conversation was interrupted by an older man in grease-covered overalls entering the wheelhouse. With massive arms and a barrel chest bursting out from a torn shirt, the mechanic ambled over to the captain and slapped him on the back.
“Thanks for sending those kids down to help me in the engine room. They’re as smart as whips, and they’re making our lady’s last run real easy.”
“Easy enough to leave them down there, all on their own?” growled Big John.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, Captain. Jonesy is down there, keeping an eye on them.”
“Well, don’t thank me for the idea, thank Mr. Galway here. He’s the one who wanted to send his kids all over my ship in order to help out with its operations. Jamie Galway, this is my chief engine man, Russell Summers.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Summers. And thank you for taking the time to explain to the children how to operate your steam engine. Having this experience may help them find work when they’re older.”
“Call me Hawkeye, and no thanks needed. They’re doing a terrific job. In fact, Big John might want to consider taking them on as apprentices once he purchases one of those new ships of his.”
Big John laughed. “A crew of Irish kids on a Mohawk ship? Why not? What do you think of that, Mr. Galway?”
Jamie smiled, but something hanging around Hawkeye’s neck caught his eye. “I think they would be thrilled to have the