Brookland (37 page)

As he was a bachelor, Mr. Fischer took his evening meal at the Twin Tankards. Tony and Tobias Philpot were welcoming and lively conversationalists, and could provide him, in addition to his roast, a friendly introduction to many of the men of the community. Ben had met him right away, and reported him outgoing and intelligent, though Ben had disliked the foppishness of his attire. On perhaps Mr. Fischer's fourth night in Brooklyn, Tem had banged in at the close of the workday, thirsty for her pint, and poor Mr. Fischer had fallen in love with her in an instant. Tem had sat down with Cornelis and Jens, but later told her sisters she'd seen Mr. Fischer making what he must have supposed were discreet inquiries about her.

“No,” she heard Tobias answer in his low voice, “she's not taken.” He smiled at her, as if this could prevent her knowing it was she of whom they spoke.

“Refused every man who's tried her, and good 'uns, too,” Tony added. “Including one of those fellows she's sitting with.”

“Well, I've never seen such lovely gams,” Ezra Fischer said in a tone of reverence.

“Actually,” Tem said loudly, “I'll wager you've never seen any
gams
at all, as women don't
damn well display
them. Unless, of course, you are referring to your taste for whores, quite a pretty few of whom you'll find upstairs.”

Cornelis later told Prue he'd never seen such an expression of shock on a man's face. Mr. Fischer said, “I crave your pardon, Miss . . .”

“Temperance Winship,” she spat. Cornelis stifled a laugh, as he had never before heard her use her full name; and he was glad, after all, his advances were not alone met with such scorn.

“I ask your pardon, Miss Winship.”

“Her sister is Miss Winship,” Tony said under his breath. “That one's Miss Tem.”

“Miss Tem,” Fischer repeated. He stood and approached their table. He was wearing a fine brown silk jacket and cravat, both of which Cornelis reported looked out of place in the barroom. “I spoke out of turn, and I give you my apologies. But please allow me to make your acquaintance. I am Ezra Fischer, lately arrived from New York.”

Cornelis said Tem's eyes burned so hot and her nostrils flared so wide, it was as if Roxana had returned from the dead. “Delighted,” she said, stood up, and left. The Luquer brothers apologized to Fischer, but followed her, and stood her a drink at the Old Stone.

Tem's report left her sisters galled at Mr. Fischer's behavior, but when Prue later heard a softer version from Cornelis, it roused her interest; and a few nights later, she took Pearl down to the Twin Tankards after supper. Mr. Fischer nearly fell off his stool to see a second woman in britches, accompanied by one who bore such a strong resemblance to the cause of his disgrace. Both sisters laughed at his response, and he appeared further startled by Pearl's weird hiss. But Prue went right up to introduce herself, and invited him to join them for a glass of Madeira wine. Tony brought a whole decanter. Prue was surprised Tem hadn't mentioned the salient fact of Mr. Fischer's appearance: which was, he was extraordinarily good-looking, with dark wavy hair and lovely moss-green eyes. After his initial discomfiture over their arrival and Pearl's unique method of communication had evaporated, Prue questioned him about his history and his prospects in Brooklyn. Both sisters found him cordial and articulate, and Prue, for one, rather liked his fancy coat, as it reminded her of something their father might have worn.

Tem was angry her sisters had gone looking for Mr. Fischer at all, and even more so once she discovered their affability toward him had encouraged him in his suit. He began to appear bearing small gifts—candies, periodicals, and, on one occasion, a delicate painted teapot a person such as
Tem could never have use for—and Tem began spending as little time as possible in the countinghouse, as this was where he would try to apprehend her. That her sisters seemed bent on encouraging her to talk to him galled Tem even further.

“Why should I?” she said at lunch one afternoon. They were gathered around the desk, eating cold smoked ham and pickled cucumbers.

“Because he's a good fellow,” Prue said. “Decent. And interesting.”

Pearl added,
& wealthy
.

“Pff,” Tem said, “I haven't any need of his wealth.”

'Twould'n't burly, either
.

“For crying out loud, he's a Jew,” Tem said.

Prue said, “Well, I don't know” She had almost no knowledge of Jews, but thought Mr. Fischer ordinary, except for his fine looks. “You're the one who'll never set foot in church. I can't see why you should mind.”

Tem stretched her eyes wide. “I don't understand either of you. Why are you so eager to marry me off?”

“We're not,” Prue said, before Pearl could finish writing it. “I simply allow it might be pleasant to be courted by such a man.”

“You take him, then,” Tem said, and stalked off. For weeks she remained in a foul temper whenever either of her sisters spoke to her. Thus she was doubly disgruntled whenever they began to discuss their bridge.

One evening at the start of June, Pearl wrote to Prue,
I am nearly finish'd my drawings
.

“My,” Tem said. She had her elbow on the table, and feigned a gesture of interest with her fork.

“That's wonderful,” Prue said. “When do you suppose you'll be done?”

3 or 4 Days? but I want to wash th Floor before I shew ityou
.

Tem said, “How big is the thing?”

Pearl shrugged her shoulders.
Plans & Sections &c &c moderatly small. Elevation?
She looked around the kitchen.
I did it to Scale, I/250 of t'actual Bridge
^s
Size. 'Twould'n't fit in this Room
.

“Holy Christ,” Tem said.

Prue said, “I am so eager to see what you've done. Later this week, do you say?”

Pearl gave it a moment's thought—perhaps for show—before nodding her assent.
Sunday Morning after church
, she wrote.

Prue said, “The days will drag till Sunday.”

Pearl began to clear the dishes with a sudden burst of energy that sent her spotted cat hissing from its place on the edge of the rug.

The days were slow. There was enough to do in distilling grain alcohol to keep Prue busy for all eternity, but she couldn't think of anything but Pearl. When at last Sunday morning arrived, it was bright and clear. Prue could hardly listen to Will Severn, though he preached eloquently; and when he had finished, she took Pearl by the hand to lead her down toward Joralemon's Lane and the distillery.

Pearl shook free of her, took out her pencil, and wrote,
Are'n'tyou hungry? Abiah bought some Sosages
.

“Afterward,” Prue said. It was all she could do not to run down the street.

The rising tide of the East River lapped against the Winships' stretch of shore, and the sails of the windmill twirled in the Sabbath breeze. A cask had burst the previous afternoon while being loaded onto a wagon, and Prue thought the spot still bore a faint odor of juniper. Pearl unlocked the assembly hall, from whose windows she'd removed the paper, and where a tall, bulky scroll was propped into a corner, tied with a thin black ribbon. She unrolled a smaller set of drawings, each perhaps a yard wide, onto the floor.

These were plans for the bridge's foundations, the two abutments, the stacking method Prue had envisioned for constructing the voussoirs, and the ways of facing the bridge's exterior and of trussing and paving the road. At the bottom of the sheaf was a visual depiction of the results of Prue's experiments on the relative strengths of woods under the various kinds of stresses they might endure. These drawings were all executed with a line as fine as that made by an engraver's burin, and shaded with a delicate webwork of crosshatches. If Prue had not known how she intended to build this bridge, she felt she could have learned it from the drawings at hand; and though she had known Pearl had a talent for drawing, she was taken aback by their precision and beauty. “Pearl,” she said, “good God. Thank you.”

Yr welcome
, Pearl wrote.
Do you think they'll suffise?

“Without question.” Prue spread them around her on the floor. “I have no doubt we can build a model from these. If the plan proves viable, they'll take us a long way toward an actual bridge.”

To build the B. itself, I'd need to draw up a Plan for the Cranes; but I assume these draw
^ngs
too will undergo some Changes before then
.

“Yes,” Prue said, but the images made her feel as if she were in a trance. She could dive into them and remain there; she could feast on them and not exhaust them. She was awed by Pearl's skill, and amazed to see the thing she had dreamed of translated into concrete terms by the mind of another.

Pearl whistled at her, and she knew she must have gone off woolgathering.
Do you want to see the big one?
she asked.

“Yes,” Prue said. “But first you must tell me how you learned to draw so well.”

I've all ways been good at it
.

“Yes, but—” Prue cut herself off, as her sister was still writing.

& I have had some Practise. Will study'dyou know, in his Youth. He has taught me some Fundamentles
.

“I didn't know,” Prue said, and thought she would simply have to accept her sister's prowess in this regard. She appraised the scroll propped in the corner. It stood about as high as a horse. “That's the elevation?”

Pearl nodded and stowed her pencil in its hasp. She walked over to the behemoth, reached toward its upper extremity with one hand, and waited for Prue to come to her aid. Prue went over and steadied the bottom end while Pearl coaxed the top down into her hands. Prue was surprised at its weight and unwieldiness, and Pearl hissed at her in laughter as she deftly swung her end down to the level of Prue's. Together they brought it out to the middle of the room. When Prue attempted to lay it down, Pearl freed a hand to make a circle in the air, in sign they must rotate it first. When they placed it on the floor, Pearl whistled again.

Prue said, “I didn't ask you to make it so large.”

Pearl patted her breastbone to accept the blame.

They bent over the scroll like reapers, untied the ribbon, and began to pull the ends apart. They had gone no more than a foot when the unfurling image stopped Prue still. There was a schooner tacking into the wind, with her sails as round and full as life and her sailors pulling on her halyards. The water through which the ship plowed was murky and rough,
as it often was on the kind of overcast spring day on which Pearl had modeled the drawing. High above arched the most delicate part of the bridge. The round gray clouds overhead seemed as if they could either roil the port with rain or blow off in an instant. It was the very sky of Brooklyn.

“Jesus,” Prue said quietly.

She heard Pearl continuing to unroll her half, but had difficulty looking up from what had already been revealed. After a moment she recovered herself and kept going. The bridge continued to soar across its great arc, unfurling until it was half as wide as the broad side of the room. There were the two fanciful abutments, and springing from them were the two levers, faced in clear timber and sweeping up toward their meeting point over the center of the river. Around the feet of the bridge New York and Brooklyn bustled, recognizable in all their particulars. There stood Winship Daughters Gin, the sails of the windmill having been cleaned and the sign repainted for the occasion; and though the rope-walk's workers were too small to be recognizable, Prue made out Tem's figure, in waders, tallying a shipment, while she herself stood in profile, simply gazing at the bridge. The craggy Heights appeared just so; likewise New York's docks and the myriad of boats and ships, all meticulously observed. It was not possible Pearl could have learned the wharves in such detail in only a few weeks; it had to be that she had long been spending a great deal more time in watching, and less in needlework, than Prue had known.

She said, “Pearl.”

Pearl paced along the bottom of her work, with her hands clasped behind her. She was appraising her own workmanship, not awaiting Prue's approbation.

I/250
^th
the size
, she wrote, the next time she found herself near her sister,
of the finish'd Structure. Ire shall build the I
^st
Facksimile to the same Spessifications
.

Prue took her hand and said, “This is the most beautiful thing I have ever beheld.” Pearl narrowed her eyes at her. “In all seriousness. I cannot believe how perfect it is. I did not know you possessed quite such a talent.”

Buried it in the Yard?
she wrote, and returned to examining the bridge.
Mighty thin at y
^e
Keystone; but the Maths seems to support yr notion
.

Where the two levers met, high over the middle of the river, the bridge appeared thin as air, a bare demarcation of the space above from that below. “A few hundred times larger, it'll have more heft.”

& when 'tis an axual Bridge, the guard Rail'll prevent the hapless from pitching off the Side while they Gape
. Pearl had drawn the bridge pristine and empty of traffic; but in reality, the heads of horses and the tops of high loads would dot the horizon like so many beads.
If we've done our Calculations correckt
^y
, she wrote on a new sheet, you'll
be able to ship a whole year
^s
worth of Gin over at ago
.

“If ever I can deliver a single cask by such means, I'll be happier than I can describe. And to walk over it, and look down at the straits—it is almost too much to hope for.”

Well it's good _you've made it solid. A brdg'll have to be strong if in Deed 'tis to reach th. Other Side
.