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The Boat

Written by Kerryn Offord

Grantville, Sunday 6 April, 1634

 

George Watson stubbed out the cigarette he'd just finished and reached for his glass of beer. He sipped his drink while he gazed through the window at the shed where he'd kept his speedboat. He still missed his beauty, his Outlaw.

When he finished his beer George put the glass down and hauled himself out of his chair. He grabbed a coat and headed outside. Even before he arrived at the shed door he was breathing heavily. George was worried. He shouldn't be out of breath after such a short walk, not at only fifty-two.

****

"Well? What's wrong with me, Doc?" George asked.

"I don't have the X-rays that would give me a certain diagnosis, but knowing your work history, I think it's fair to say your shortness of breath is an early warning of coal workers' pneumoconiosis," Doctor John Thompson Sims said.

"Black lung? But there's no cure for that."

"It's not that bad, George, not yet. However, you should stop smoking and you really need to stop working near coal dust."

"Stop working near coal dust? But mining's all I know. What am I going to do for a living?"

"Why don't I make an appointment for you with Kathryn Riddle to talk about your options?"

George wanted a cigarette. He needed a cigarette. Already his fingers were fidgeting uncontrollably—although part of that might be reaction to Dr. Sims' diagnosis. Not that it'd been totally unexpected. He'd certainly seen enough black lung in his time to recognize the symptoms. But now he faced a bleak future with no social security, and maybe no job. "What about compensation, Doc?"

Dr. Sims shook his head. "I'm sorry, George. You don't meet the threshold conditions for compensation. At best the mine is required to find you alternative employment within the company, but it's too dangerous for you to work near coal dust. It'd be different if they were still using up-time mining techniques, but . . ."

"They aren't," George finished for Dr. Sims. He hauled himself to his feet. "No need for you to make that appointment, Doc. I can drop round to the employment office myself."

****

George shuffled out of the employment office. Even the walk from the bus stop to the office had him short of breath, and listening to what Kathryn had to say hadn't improved things. Either he risked making his condition worse by accepting a sideways move at the coal mine, in accordance with the existing union agreement for mining related medical conditions, or he left the mine and starved. Some choice. George lowered his head and started walking toward home.

Ten minutes later his feet stopped in front of a sidewalk sign—"Koudsi’s Legal Services (Since 1634)." He stared at it for maybe thirty seconds before he understood what his subconscious was trying to tell him. He needed to see his lawyer. He had the letter from Dr. Sims outlining his condition, then changed direction and set off to catch the railbus that would take him to the offices of Waffler, Wiesel, and Finck.

 

The Saalfeld offices of Waffler, Wiesel, and Finck

 

Martin Finck escorted George Watson to the front door and watched his client slowly walk down the street. He stared at the distant cliffs of the Ring of Fire.. They didn't give him any inspiration, so he closed the front door and walked into the reception area. There his eyes settled on the portrait of Johann Waffler, the late founding "partner," (mentally promoting him from his actual status as a legal clerk and small town notary).  It was Johann's money—he considered avarice to be at most a minor venial sin—that had funded the beginnings of the partnership. Martin stared at the portrait, wondering what Johann would do. Then he smiled. Whenever possible Johann Waffler had looked for someone to sue. But who to sue? And with what justification? Martin headed for the office of his superior in the Saalfeld office. "Meinhard, do you have a moment?"

Meinhard Wiesel lounged back in his well-padded executive chair. "Sure, what can I help you with?"

"I've just had George Watson in again."

"The speedboat case? Has there been a development? Has he found the money to pay us to actively pursue the case?"

"He hasn't found the money, but there has been a development. He's recently been diagnosed with," he paused to read his notes, "non-acute 'coal workers' pneumoconiosis'—something better known as 'black lung disease.'"

Meinhard steepled his fingers and rested his chin on the fingertips. "Non-acute . . . what does that mean?"

"Herr Watson says it means his condition is severe enough that he can't work in the mines, but not bad enough to qualify for government compensation under up-time law."

"So what does he want us to do?"

"He hopes that down-time mining law might have something to offer."

Meinhard shook his head. "Doubtful. I've never heard of such a case."

"Neither have I."

The two lawyers stared at each other for a while. The only sound was the ticking of the clock over the fire.

Meinhard broke the silence. "Would Herr Watson's illness gain the sympathy of the up-timers?"

Sympathy and George Watson didn't usually go together, but a potentially fatal disease? One brought on by coal mining, in a coal mining town . . . "I do believe you have it. Surely this is just what we need to push the claim for compensation for the loss of Herr Watson's precious up-time speedboat," Martin said.

Meinhard stood and paced around his office. "Due to the change in Herr Watson's circumstances we should offer to handle his case on a 'contingency fee' basis." He smiled. "Surely one of our glorious mine workers, selflessly sacrificing his health for the betterment of mankind, deserves the support of the nation in his hour of need . . ."

"You're piling it on a bit thick, but I agree."

"It would be best if we could get the case to go to court. That would justify a higher percentage."

"They'll never allow it to go that far. Herr Watson's claim is just too strong. His boat was one of the few items actually nationalized, and General Jackson was heard to say that Herr Watson would be compensated. It's just a matter of how much."

Meinhard sat down and collected paper and a pen. "How much do you think it was worth?"

"Herr Watson paid about sixty thousand dollars for it up-time, but it was the only one of its kind down-time."

"You'll need to start by pricing how much it would cost to build a similar boat built today."

"They can't, Meinhard. For a start they don't have the engines that allow the Outlaw to travel so fast," Martin explained. "It is impossible for anybody to build anything like the Outlaw. The materials the boat was made out of don't exist, and most importantly, nobody can build engines of the required power and reliability."

"What if they could recover the original engines?" Meinhard asked.

"Even if they could build a boat exactly like Herr Watson's original Outlaw it wouldn't be a true artifact from the future, and it wouldn't command the same price," Martin said.

"How much is the up-timer premium worth?"

"I have no idea," Martin admitted.

"Then you had better do some research," Meinhard said. "And you might want to make contact with the owners of the other boats. If I recall correctly there were three others taken for military service."

State of Thuringia-Franconia Court System, Grantville

 

"Andrea, you got a minute?"

Andrea Constantinault, chief of staff of the State of Thuringia-Franconia Court System looked up from the papers she was reading. "Sure, Syl. What's bothering you?"

Sylvester Francisco, the Assistant Attorney General, stepped into the office and grabbed a chair as he approached her desk. "I've got a real doozy," he said. "George Watson is filing for compensation for the nationalization of his speedboat."

Andrea nodded. "The law does say anything taken by eminent domain must be compensated."

"Yeah, sure, especially as a number of people heard Frank Jackson insist that George'd be compensated. That's not the problem." He stopped and glared at the papers in his hand. "The problem is how much he's asking for."

"How much can it be?"

"George's lawyers are asking for six million."

"Six million!"

Sylvester grinned. "I thought that would get your attention. Yep, six million, plus interest backdated to the beginning of October when compensation should have been paid."

"But, but, that's outrageous," Andrea protested.

"That's what I thought." He dumped some papers on Andrea's desk. "But George's lawyer pointed out that the Outlaw was a one of a kind boat and could easily have sold for that kind of money."

Andrea picked randomly at the papers Sylvester had dropped on her desk. "Do you have any idea how much desperately needed indexing equipment we could buy for six million dollars?"

"Probably all you need. The lawyer did say George would settle for having his boat back."

"But it's been blown into a zillion pieces."

Sylvester shrugged. "As Herr Finck would say, that's not his client's problem."

"If Maurice presided over the case he'd have to decide compensation on 'fair value.'" Andrea sighed in resignation. "Are we sure six million is fair?"

"Fair value is kinda hard to determine, Andrea. But George's lawyers do have a point. How much would a replacement Outlaw cost?"

"I've got no idea. Maybe you'd better take it up with Maurice and Internal Affairs."

 

State of Thuringia-Franconia Department of Internal Affairs, Grantville

 

George Chehab, Secretary of the Interior, Department of Internal Affairs, his deputy, Jailyn Wyatt, and the State of Thuringia-Franconia court system's chief judge, Maurice Tito, listened as Sylvester outlined the problem. There was a dead silence as they stared at each other. Finally George turned to his deputy. "What do you think?"

Jailyn released a heavy sigh. "I guess if that's 'fair value', that's what we have to pay."

Maurice Tito, the person most likely to preside over the case, nodded his agreement. "That's the important thing. What is fair value? Does six million represent the fair market value of George's Outlaw when Frank Jackson 'nationalized' it?"

"You don't think we could get away with paying something more in line with what Watson paid for it originally?" George asked hopefully.

"No!" Sylvester answered. "If George Watson's lawyers feel that the settlement offer was demonstratively unfair they'll try and get it heard by a jury, and we have to avoid that."

"Why are you so sure they'd want to go before a jury, Syl? I'd have thought that with the level of compensation they're asking they'd want to leave determination of fair value in the hands of the presiding judge," Maurice said.

Sylvester gestured to the case folder. "In there is George Watson's latest medical. Dr. Sims has recently diagnosed him with non-acute 'coal workers' pneumoconiosis.'"

"Ouch! A couple of UMWA members on that jury and any chance of a reasonable 'fair value' goes out the window," George Chehab said.

"That's my opinion as well," Sylvester said. "Which means we either accept George's lawyers' valuation, or make our own."

"How do you suggest we go about determining a market value for the Outlaw?" Maurice asked Sylvester.

"How about getting someone to build a new one?" Jailyn suggested.

Maurice shook his head. "Even if someone could build a new one, its value won't take account of the premium a unique up-time artifact can command."

"Well, how do you price the premium?" Jailyn asked.

"I've no idea," Maurice answered.

"A lot of good you are," Jailyn muttered. "So where does that leave us?"

"I guess we do what we can to determine our own valuation," Maurice said.

"What about the other boats," Jailyn asked.

Three heads turned her way. "What other boats?" George asked.

"Harry Rousseau's, Louie Tillman's, and Jack Clements'," Jailyn answered. "They were also taken up to Wismar, weren't they?"

Sylvester nodded. "Yeah, they were, but I haven't heard of any of them claiming compensation."

"Well you wouldn't," George said. "Not only have their boats not been blown up, but both Jack and Louie were happy to let their boats be used while Harry and his family were left up-time."

"But Donna Rousseau still has family in Grantville," Maurice said. "We'll have to talk to them about selling Harry's boat to the navy or taking it back. And I guess we'd better do the same for Jack and Louie."

"Come on, Maurice. Neither Jack or Louie are the kind of guys who'll try to rip off the government," George protested.

Maurice shook his head. "George Watson isn't trying to rip off the government. He's standing by his legal rights to fair compensation. The fact that he might be dying of black lung and can't work anymore is justification enough for trying to get as much as he can. And if the Outlaw is worth six million, those other three boats won't be cheap. The navy would be advised to see about obtaining an indemnity or giving them back before anything happens to them."

 

The Saalfeld offices of Waffler, Wiesel, and Finck, May, 1634

 

George Watson settled into the client's chair and stared expectantly at Martin Finck. "Well?"

Martin shuffled papers on his desk. Selecting one he placed it carefully in front of him and looked across his desk at George. "After strenuous petitioning by Waffler, Wiesel, and Finck the State of Thuringia-Franconia has conceded that fair compensation is due."

"So when do I get some money?" George demanded.

Martin ignored the interruption and continued speaking. "Although they concede that compensation is owed, the State of Thuringia-Franconia wishes to make its own determination as to what fair value is for your lost vessel."

"And what am I supposed to live on while they make their determination?"

Martin held up his hands. "Herr Watson, this trifling delay is not unexpected. The government has a duty not only to pay fair value for your boat, but also to protect the public purse and ensure that fair value is all they pay. However, the state of Thuringia-Franconia is aware of your situation and doesn't wish to see you suffer financial hardship because of the delay. So they have made an offer of a stipend, backdated to the beginning of October last year, of five hundred dollars per week, payable until such time as they do settle." Martin removed his glasses and polished them. "The stipend is, of course, interest on the owed compensation by another name, but it represents a valuation of a mere six hundred thousand dollars. To let that stand would imply we accept that valuation, so I recommend that you allow me to negotiate the stipend."

"Sure, whatever you think is best. You're the lawyer."

"Then I'll get right on to filing our counter-offer and get back to you as soon as I can." Martin rose from his chair and escorted George out of the office.

 

Köppe's Boatyard, Schönebeck (14 miles south of Magdeburg), May 1634

Ernst Christof Köppe looked up from the pile of drawings, photographs, and hull fragments. "Impossible."

"That is what everyone else has said," Hans Kierstead said. "However, they also said that if anybody can build it, it is Ernst Christof Köppe."

"They did?"

"Yes," Hans confirmed.

"Oh!" Ernst turned back to the drawings and pictures. A thirty-three foot boat capable of over seventy miles per hour that no one else could build. He could see the hull shape was fast, but . . . "What about the engines?" He gestured to the boats being built in his covered boatyard. "The engines I get for those 'Higgins' boats wouldn't be suitable."

"Attempts are currently underway to recover the original engines. For now we just need you to concentrate on the hull. Can you build it?"

"I can try," Ernst suggested.

"We'd like you to do more than just try."

Ernst sighed. He had another look at the material he'd been given. It would certainly be a change from the ten and twelve knot motor barges and lighters he'd been building. "Give me a week. If I can make useful drawings out of all of this I will build you your boat." He looked up. "If I can't make good enough drawings, then you must find someone else."

****

Three days later Ernst had some useful working drawings. Not anything suitable for making a full size Outlaw, but he could make a scale model. One to twelve should be easy to do. That'd give a model thirty-three inches long with a beam of eight and a half inches. The new material for the hull might present a problem. He was used to using sawn boards, or more recently, marine plywood, but the Outlaw, according to the brochures he'd been given, used something called 'glass reinforced plastic.'

"Claus," he called out for his senior journeyman. "Come here a moment."

Claus Wilhelm Delp put down the carpenter's plane he was using and hurried over to Ernst. "How can I help you, Master Köppe?"

"'Glass reinforced plastic.' Where have I heard of that?"

Claus stared blankly up at the roof of the workshop and worried his lower lip with his teeth for a couple of minutes. Suddenly he straightened and snapped his fingers. "Markgraf and Smith Aviation's new aircraft, they are using something they call fiberglass in the construction of its body. I'm sure it's the same thing."

As soon as Claus mentioned the aircraft manufacturers Ernst had remembered what he'd read. "I believe you're correct. I need you to visit Markgraf and Smith and find out all you can about constructing hulls using fiberglass." He pulled on Claus' arm. "Come along, we need to get you on your way as soon as possible."

"But, Master Köppe, I haven't finished . . ."

"Don't worry about it, Claus. I'll make sure your apprentices finish what you were doing. Right now it's more important that you learn how to make a hull out of fiberglass.

 

Köppe's Boatyard, June 1634

 

Claus Delp looked around the workshop. He could see Master Köppe had been busy while he'd been away. Along one side of the workshop was the wooden skeleton of a large boat. It could only be a wooden Outlaw. He walked over to the monstrous boat and peeked into the interior.

There were engines in the engine bay. He didn't think they were the right engines. They looked too much like the drawings of the new build engines he'd seen during his recent time at Markgraf and Smith Aviation.

"Isn't she a beauty?" Master Köppe asked from behind him.

Claus stood back and studied the lines of the boat. "Yes." He gestured to the engines. "Are they the proper engines?"

"No. They still haven't produced them. Those are a pair of new aero engines. The power will be well down ...