Chapter 1~ The Blue Jenny
Luninberg Nova Scotia October 1920
1920 hadn't been a good year for the Novans. The province had spent half the year preparing and putting together the race and the first time it was run, the Americans stole the show, taking home the staked $4000 and the coveted IF trophy. It wasn't fair! There were many who felt Delawana should never have lost. There were others that felt it should've been Gilbert B. Walters in that race and still others who wondered just what might become if the two were paired. And that is just what happened. Thomas Himmelman, captain of the Delawana, and Angus Walters, captain of the Gilbert B. Walters, decided to breed the two. Delawana had proven she couldn't beat the Americans but perhaps one of her shiplings could. Breeding these two was important for another reason as well. For the people of Luninberg, breeding their schooners was like breeding thoroughbreds. There was a lot of money to be made, and even more to be lost but that slim chance to own the schooner of the lifetime was what kept the business going. Both Delawana and Walters had impeccable pedigrees. Walters was descended from the likes of Preussan I and Peking. While Delawana was out of the legendary brig Amazon. There was not a drop of steamship blood in them, the last true purebred schooner line.
6 months after breeding in late March 1921, Delawana went into labor. Sailboats tended to have their shiplings quick, a trait that has served them well against predators. So when Delawana's labor lasted for longer than 3 hours, there was cause for concern. As another defense, sailboats had large litters, 5 or more and as a result complications were common. Too common this year for Angus. Two expecting mothers had to be put down after their fetus' died and started to rot inside them. Delawana didn't have that trouble but with so many shiplings all wanting out at the same time, there were bound to be traffic jams. Angus stood by her stern, ready to receive the first shipling. Tom was at her bow. Seeing her captain was essential in keeping her calm. Delawana's flanks seized and she shrieked in pain. "It's okay girl, it's okay." Tom soothed her with a gentle hand. She groaned, head dropping back down. He kept his hand over her nose, feeling it shift beneath him as her body contorted with painful spasms. "Shh, shh..." To continued to soothe her. "First one's coming!" Angus called and Tom breathed a sigh of relief. "Almost over girl, just push. Push hard! You can do it!" The first child, a large stout* came slowly. His bulk was almost too big for Delawana's passage. He slid out and Angus immediately grabbed him, taking a knife to the sac and cutting the umbilical chord. Once free, he set it down next to Delawana and the mother licked it vigorously. He twitched, giving a loud cry. He had strong lungs and would survive. The next two, also stouts were born stillborn. The first was dead upon delivery. The second was too weak to take more than a single breath before his weak lungs gave out on him. Angus watched as Delawana desperately tried to get them working again, to no avail. Her amber eyes clouded with grief she had no time to mourn the loss as the fourth shipling emerged. Like the second, it too was stillborn and Angus didn't bother handing him to Delawana. He sensed the mother knew.
"Come on old girl, don't quit on me now. Just one more!" Tom's frantic voice brought him back to reality. Delawana was really struggling now. "Just one more! Just one more!" Tom chanted in a desperate sort of mantra. Delawana's response was an exhausted wheeze. Angus felt for her. His own wife had only one child at a time and that was tough enough! He couldn't imagine the agony the schooner was going through right now. A keening cry cut through his thoughts as Delawana's bow rose clear of the water. Her teeth clacked together and with one last push, the final shipling as born. Born in a shower of blood that soaked Angus' arms and face. He picked it up before it could sink, discovering it was a jenny. The only jenny of the bunch. She was small and thin, looking quite ragged compared to her brother. He was quick to remove the sac and umbilical, handing it to Delawana. The exhausted mother could just barely manage licking her daughter. "Mraaw!" the little one said. Despite her humble and, with the blood coating her hull, rather ghastly appearance, she had strong lungs. Angus wondered what other strengths lay hidden in that deceptively weak hull of hers.
She and her brother snuggled to their mother, latching on and suckling. Delawana lay back, too tired to do anything. The stout relaxed against her but the jenny seemed to have a sixth sense and started yipping, nudging her mother's hull frantically. Once Delawana raised her bow, nuzzling her daughter but once she rested it back down, it never rose again. She tried a few times but she had lost too much blood, used too much strength and now, she had none left. The steady warmth tickling Tom's palm ceased. "N-no." The jenny wailed, her little bowsprit poking her mother's hull repeatedly. She was calling for her mother. Why wasn't she responding! With their mother dead, Angus worried for the little one's future. Sailboats didn't adopt and dependent as these little ones were, they needed someone to care for them until they were old enough to fend for themselves. Tom glared at Angus. "You can raise these little bastards! But the she-devil's yours!" He glared hatedly at the little jenny who was still trying to rouse her mother while her brother sat in quiet acceptance. It was clear to Angus that Tom blamed her for Delawana's death. Angus didn't blame him. In a sense he wasn't wrong but he couldn't bring himself to hate the poor shipling like Tom could. Then again, Delawana wasn't his loss.
The two shiplings ended up riding to his house in a basket. Like most homes in the village, it was within walking distance of the wharf. Angus took the two immediately into the bathtub to get the rest of the birthing fluid off them. As he did he noticed the stout had a brown hull while the jenny's was bluish-black with a gold stripe running the length of it. Her masts were folded back into her deck and would spring up as she got older but her bowsprit and stays were already well formed. Then her eyes opened for the first time. Her brother had inherited their father's bluish-green and Angus expected the same for the jenny but he was wrong. A pair of liquid amber-brown eyes eagerly took in their surroundings before meeting his. She tilted her head to the side, clearly not expecting his face. Her eyes were aflame with her fierce spirit. Her body may've been rags but her heart was strong. He rubbed her forecastle and she leaned into the petting, finding the feeling strange but nice.
Finishing, Angus drained the bath. (The jenny took delight in watching the whirlpool form at the drain) and carried them both wrapped in blankets downstairs. His wife, Maggie was in the kitchen. "Who are these little darlings?" She asked. "They are-were Delawana's." He replied quietly. "Oh, Angus I'm so sorry!" She said. "It's Tom I'm more worried about. He wants nothing to do with these little ones. Called this one a devil!" He pointed to the jenny. "What an awful thing to say!" Maggie scolded. "How could anyone say such to such a cute poor little shipling." Her finger tickled her nose and she sneezed. Maggie pulled back with a laugh. "Have you thought of names for them dear. We can't call them Stout and Jenny." She asked. Come to think of it, Angus had. For the stout anyways. The jenny was a little harder. "He'll be Gilbert, for his father." He certainly looked the part. He was Walter's spitting image. "And this sweet girl?" Maggie couldn't help but fawn over the little blue shipling who reveled in the attention. Angus' silence was her answer. "Well I have one." She picked her up out of the blankets, inspecting her blue hull. "She's got the makings of a champion." She said. "How can you tell?" Angus asked. "It's in her eyes. She's got a fighting spirit in there, just waiting for a good run." Maggie replied. "Best fitting to give her a worthy name of her soon to be status. She is Bluenose." "Bluenose." Angus repeated, recognizing the name as that for all Novans. He stroked her head, earning himself a purr and a lick. "She's perfect."
*Male sailboat. Female sailboats are called jennies.