Free Shipbuilder by Marlene Dotterer

she stepped into the room indicated: a large, cathedral-like space with beams rising from the floor to arch over the high ceiling. Each beam alternated with a large skylight on the ceiling and a window on the walls. Even this early in the day, the room was filled with natural light. Row after row of long tables provided workspace for men to stand or sit, all of them sketching or measuring, or discussing their drawings. This was obviously the drafting department.
    They pretty much ignored her as she made her way to the back, which she nervously took as a good thing. Can I pull this off? The first person I talk to is probably going to realize I'm a girl! Maybe I should just leave. Timid, she stepped through the door into the office. If no one's in here, I'll just run. Um…if I can find my way back out, that is.
    Nearly gasping with relief that she didn't see Mr. Andrews, Casey jumped as a head appeared from behind an open cabinet to the side of the room. The head had black hair, gold-framed glasses covering the eyes, and a pair of really big ears. When the eyes saw her, they lit up and a big grin split the face. The head was followed by a long, thin body in a dark suit, belonging to a young man who was holding several pencils and a cup. He tossed the pencils in the cup and came toward Casey, hand outstretched. "Mornin'! Ye must be Casey. Boss said to expect ye!"
    Casey took his hand and tried to speak past her dry mouth. "Yeah. I mean, yes sir, I'm Casey Wilson. Are you Mr. Andrews' secretary?"
    "I am, I am. Thompson Hamilton is the name. Everyone calls me Ham, so's not to confuse me with the boss!" This was accompanied by a hearty laugh that clearly said "Not bloody likely!" as Ham placed the cup on the desk and turned back to Casey. "Really glad you're here, Casey. Mr. Andrews said he expects big things from ye. Ah, and here's Himself, now!"
    Indeed, the laugh heard from the other room could belong to no one else. Mr. Andrews could be heard commenting on a drawing and answering questions as he neared the office. Casey turned, certain they would be able to see her heart beating in her chest, it was pounding so hard. He spotted her immediately, and the laugh returned as he shook her hand with delight, noting that she was on time and had already met Ham. He wore a bowler hat on his head and a blue coat over his suit, every pocket of which was stuffed with paper and pencils.
    She felt the tension in her chest ease just a bit, as he proceeded to talk about the plans for the day, unloading his pockets into neat piles on his desk, then refilling the pockets with other papers while telling Casey to just trail along with Ham, learn his way around, and help as needed. He exhorted Ham to "show Casey everything" and to get a good idea of what Casey knew how to do.
    "He can read, write, and do arithmetic, but go easy on the algebra," was the instruction given with a great laugh and a slap on Casey's shoulder, as Mr. Andrews darted off to talk to the riveters on his way to his next meeting. By the time he left, Casey was grinning, and she noticed it was infectious: the grin had spread to Ham and the men at the drawing tables as well.
    Later, as she reflected on the day, Casey was pretty sure those few minutes in the office were the last time she stood in one place. Ham did indeed "show her everything," moving at top speed through the cavernous buildings and shipyard. Once they were out in the yard, the source of the banging was immediately apparent. Ham stopped to let her watch for a few minutes, explaining with noticeable pride what she was seeing. Men were swarming over the ships in various states of construction, with a lot of them lined up in teams next to the ships. Each team was placing a red hot piece of metal–Ham called it a rivet–in one of many holes in a huge metal plate and then ramming it home with a hydraulic hammer. Workers above the men were heating up and hammering the next rivet into shape and dropping it down to be