A Cruel Blow
The next morning, Tindomul went down to the harbor to watch the final preparations being made for the voyage. At the shipyard, workmen stood around the new vessel, waving their arms and cursing. The new ship seem to be riding low in the water and listing to starboard.
Two men worked the pumps, sending a torrent of water gushing over the side.
The shipwright was almost in tears. "The ship has been sabotaged. I don't know how it happened. The ship was never left alone. There were crews on every watch, all through the night."
Tar-Ciryatan joined them. "What happened?"
"She's taking on water at an alarming rate. We have to work the pumps hard just to keep her afloat. She's not seaworthy right now. We've looked everywhere for the leak but can't find it."
"Pull her out of the water and examine the hull. Pay special attention to the starboard side, near the keel, about a third of the way forward."
Father wasn't just the 12th king of Númenor, he was Ciryatan the shipbuilder, and he personally had designed this vessel.
"That's the spot where the hull is deepest, and it lies behind a bulkhead that could give a saboteur some privacy to work. A man with a hand screw could drew drill through the hull, out of sight behind a bulkhead and not be seen by the other workers."
"We should ask, who on the graveyard shift was seen with a handscrew, heading down into the belly of the ship." said Tindomul.
"You could ask, but you wouldn't learn anything. A handscrew such a common tool, no one carrying one into the hull would warrant a second glance," said the shipwright.
Tar-Ciryatan ordered the ship pulled out of the water. It took most of the day. As expected, the hull had a hole burrowed into the new wood, as thick as a man's thumb, located almost exactly where Tar-Ciryatan said they would be.
"This ship cannot sail. We'll have to strip every board from the hull to replace the damaged one, right next to the keel."
Tindomul felt achingly tired. The mission was off.
Dinner was a subdued affair as each of them wallowed in their own gloomy thoughts. Father lifted a goblet. "Here's to what could have been. Let's resign ourselves to an ordinary life, then infirmity and a slow, unavoidable slide into death."
Fun times.