Free The Trespass by Scott Hunter

eyebrows. “I think he likes you, though... Anyway, I’m happy to have him around. We’re not the only ones interested in Theodore’s legacy.”
     
    They settled around the small table. Dracup studied the American closely. How much did he know? He swallowed a mouthful of egg and opened with a general question. “Tell me, Farrell; are you up to speed with the 1920 expedition?”
    “Yes sir. Mr Potzner has briefed me.”
    “Surprised that the Ark was found?” Dracup kept his voice conversational and pleasant. Hopefully Farrell would come out with something useful.
    Farrell finished his eggs and wiped his mouth with his handkerchief. He looked at Dracup and Sara in turn. “Well, you know, sir; I was brought up in the Southern states. I was right there in Sunday school from way back. I remember the stories we used to hear about Noah and all. I didn’t think a lot of it at the time, ’cause, you know, when you’re a kid, you kind of believe what the adults are telling you. There’s that trust that they’re telling you the truth. But when you get a little older, you begin to question it, you know what I mean?” He reached over and popped a can of coke.
    Dracup nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”
    “And then, I remember one weekend we had this visiting preacher come to our church. He spoke about the Ark and I remember thinking – wow, that’s not how I understood it at all before.”
    “What was different?” Sara asked.
    “Well, ma’am, he began by explaining the shape and size of this thing. People have kind of a funny notion that it was a little houseboat with giraffe poking their heads up an’ all. But it wasn’t like that. Not anyhow.”
    Dracup’s curiosity was aroused, his cutlery idle on the plate.
    Sara prodded him with a fork. “Eat. It’ll go cold.”
    He resumed the meal automatically, waved his knife at Farrell. “Go on.”
    “Yes sir. Well, I used to keep a notebook for all the sermons I heard – we were taught that in Sunday school. I looked it out the other day. The boat wasn’t shaped like a boat we would make today. It was a kind of box. The measurements given in the Old Testament, if interpreted as Egyptian cubits, would make the Ark 129 metres long, 21.5 metres wide and 12.9 metres high. This was pretty likely, the preacher said, because Moses – the author of the flood account – was educated in Egypt.” Farrell paused and grinned when he saw their faces. “I have a pretty good memory. Particularly for numbers.”
    He went on, warming to his subject. “Now, if the Sumerian cubit was used, the metric equivalents would approximate 155.2 metres in length, 25.9 metres in width and 15.5 metres in height. Okay, so using the most conservative of these measurements would give the Ark approximately 40,000 cubic metres in gross volume. You remember the Titanic? Well, it’s estimated that a vessel with these kind of dimensions would have a displacement nearly equal to the 269 cubic metres of the Titanic.”
    “Good grief,” Dracup said. “That’s colossal.”
    “It sure is,” Farrell beamed. “You don’t get to hear about that in the kids’ story books, huh?”
    “No. No, you don’t,” Dracup replied. Interesting detail; not what he was looking for, but a start anyway. He opened his mouth to ask another question but Farrell was getting into gear all by himself. Dracup let him carry on.
    “Now, the account in the Bible says there were two floors in the Ark,” Farrell said. “The boat would gain a lot of stability from that design. And it would be internally strengthened.”
    “So there would have been three decks altogether?” Dracup prompted.
    Farrell nodded. “Right. That would yield a total of about 8,900 square metres of space.” Farrell nodded his head emphatically. “Plenty of room for a lot of animals.”
    “I suppose so.” And much more, he thought. A sceptre; a sarcophagus…
    “That sure is something, sir: your grandfather actually walked on the