Free The River Flows On by Maggie Craig

Donaldson’s need tracers at the moment? I thought there were no orders on the books. I’m not looking for any favours, Mr Crawford.’
    As proud as her father, he thought. Until the drink gets to him. There were some who would think him daft to put in a good word for Neil Cameron’s daughter, but Neil had been a good man - still was, when he was sober. And, according to his sister-in-law, the lassie’s mother was hard on her. She needed a hand up. There was something about this girl - something that needed encouragement, something that made him want to help her for her own sake. Spreading his hands out on either side of the pad of blotting paper in the centre of the desk, he smiled at Kate.
    ‘There’s one just come in. The designers are busy on it right now.’ He saw the hope leap into Kate’s eyes and knew that it was for her father, not for herself. He put a hand up in admonition. ‘There’ll be no work for the Black Squad for six months, but the plans need to be drawn up - and then copied.’
    He explained further. That when a ship was built there were plans for everything, not just the hull and the superstructure, but for internal decks and bulkheads, cabins, storerooms, pipework, all sorts of internal fittings. There might be as many as fifty drawings for one ship, he told her, for a really big vessel even more.
    ‘So the engineers and everyone else involved need copies of the design drawings. That’s where the tracers come in. They get the drawings from the draughtsmen, who do them in pencil. The tracers then trace off a copy in ink, very clearly, very accurately-‘ He broke off, smiling. ‘Some of the lassies would say a lot more neatly than the draughtsmen do them. They’re always moaning about having to tidy up messy drawings. After that the drawings go to photography so that everyone who needs a copy can have one. Even the interior designers need plans.’
    ‘The interior designers?’
    ‘Aye, the folk who make the insides beautiful.’ Arthur Crawford grinned again. ‘Those who decide which colour the internal bulkheads should be and what paintings go up on the walls - even what the cups and saucers in the restaurant should be like. There’s a lot of folk work on a ship, you know. It’s a joint effort. You could be part of it, lass.’
    For the first time, Kate felt the stirrings of real interest. It was the way Mr Crawford had put it - that she, Kathleen Cameron, could be part of building a ship. That would be something to be proud of. Struck by the thought, she had a vision of herself at the next launch, watching a beautiful vessel slipping into the Clyde. What had her father said? Like a seal sliding off a rock into the ocean. It was a beautiful sight -made you want to laugh and cry at the same time, your heart bursting with pride.
    If she got a job here, she wouldn’t be proud only for Daddy, or for Robbie, or his father. She would be proud on her own account, because she would have helped the ship on her first journey - that most difficult voyage from an idea in someone’s head to blueprints and plans which enabled other skilled heads and hands make that vision real. She could see it now - her family looking at her with admiration. Her mother might even be impressed! She could boast about it to the neighbours: ‘My daughter’s a tracer, you know.’
    Kate jumped when Arthur Crawford stood up, his chair scraping the stone floor. She leapt to her feet, looking at him expectantly. He walked round the desk and ushered her towards the door.
    ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I’ll show you where the tracers work.’
    They worked in a. building tucked in at one side of the yard, a hundred yards from the main gate. It had three storeys. On the top floor, Kate learned, the design team was based. Below them were the draughtsmen and below them, the tracers.
    The tracers worked in a large airy room, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall and rows of long tables and stools. Electric lamps