Goblins and Snowflakes

Chapter 3: Archibald Boatswain III

I don’t know how much time had passed, or how long he had been watching me, but I suddenly became aware of the presence of someone looking over my shoulder.

“Oh,” I exclaimed, turning to look.

Master Boatswain III chuckled. “I’m terribly sorry. I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t interrupt you.”

“Have you been here awhile?”

“Long enough,” he said then pointed to the left arm. “Two more turns on that screw should do it, I think.”

I followed Master Boatswain’s suggestion, making the adjustment, then slid the device carefully into the body of the gnome. Grabbing the windup key, I gave it a turn.

Finally. Finally. The arms moved with grace as if he were playing the piano.

“What a delicate movement. Is he conducting?” Archibald asked.

“He’s playing the piano. He’s a prototype for a doll I need to make.”

“A doll you need to make?”

I grinned. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Most enthusiastically.”

“I’ve been apprenticing with the doll makers in Twickenham. I’m helping them with a commission. Someone ordered a doll that can sit and play a piano. I have the piano worked out; it’s just a modified music box, but getting the doll’s arms to move in a delicate manner was giving me fits.”

“Well done, Miss Rossetti. It looks like you have it. How very kind of you to help the doll makers.”

“I enjoy the work. There’s something exciting about doing such fine, detailed craft.”

Master Boatswain laughed as he pulled up a seat beside me. “You don’t have to tell me that. It’s an ingenious invention.”

I realized then that he’d been holding a notebook. He set it down in front of me, turning it so I could see. At the top, he had written The Scarlette Automaton. Underneath, he had noted the date and my full name beside the word, Tinker. Underneath, he’d sketched the clockwork design I’d used for the gnome. “You are appropriately credited,” he said.

Tinker. Me? “Why my first name? The Scarlette Automaton.”

“I thought it sounded poetic.”

I chuckled. “Maybe a touch sinister.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t detect anything sinister about you, Miss Rossetti. Am I missing something?”

“Only time will reveal that.”

Archibald lifted one of the gnomes. “What a funny creature,” he said. The little gnome he was holding was wearing a fox pelt for a hat, red shorts with suspenders, and a patchwork shirt. “What do you intend to do with the rest of them?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve fussed with this gentleman so long, I didn’t think about what to do with the others.”

“Hmm,” Master Boatswain mused. “Well, clearly, your clockwork gnome is the leader. He’s the conductor. Let’s give him some accompaniment. We’ll assign music to these four,” he said, setting three of the gnomes beside the gnome I had already tinkered. “As for these brothers, let’s make them useful: one for sewing, one for cutting cloth, one for painting, and the last for hair and makeup. Sound about right?”

I chuckled. “Make mechanicals out of all of them? I’ll never have time to accomplish it by dinner.”

Archibald started digging in the basket of decorative bits and bobs I’d borrowed from the sisters. “I agree that there’s no time to tinker, but we have plenty of time to give the others a festive flair.” From the trimmings basket, he pulled out a tiny toy drum, a gold-painted wooden trumpet, a miniature harp, and a flute. I recognized the pieces. They were leftover bits from a wreath the sisters had made. He also removed red and green ribbons and silk holiday flowers and berries.

I slid the box toward myself and selected a button, needle, and spool of thread, a small paintbrush, scraps of cloth and leather, and some other bits I could modify into beautician’s tools. From the leftover clockwork bits, I found items to make a pair of tiny scissors and tools.

I glanced at the grandfather clock. “Dinner is in an hour.”

“Then you better get to work.”

I giggled. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because you, Miss Rossetti, have created the first automaton in miniature. The Scarlette Automaton. Who wouldn’t want to help with that?”

“It’s just a clockwork gnome.”

“Just a clockwork gnome. Why is it geniuses always discount their own work?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you have some insight into the matter. Didn’t you just doodle a new invention on the ride here?”

He chuckled. “Point made.”

I glanced up at the clock once more. “We’ll never get the others done on time.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Does it? All right. It’s a challenge. And the winner gets?”

“And what would you wish for, Miss Rossetti?”

I laughed. “Bragging rights. I will proclaim to the world that I out-tinkered Archibald Boatswain.”

He laughed. “Very well. You may shout it from the rooftop if you like…but only if you win.”

“I will win. In fact, I’ve undone this seam while you were considering the matter, Master Boatswain.”

He smiled softly at me, his green eyes sparkling. “Please, call me Archie.”

“Archie?”

He nodded.

I grinned. “I’m Scarlette.”

“Well, Scarlette, what are you waiting for?”

I picked up a red-headed gnome. He had wild, curling locks and a bushy beard that nearly swallowed his face. The sisters had fashioned him with small ears like a squirrel and a bushy tail to match. He also had two porcelain buck teeth hanging over his bottom lip.

“Handsome lad,” I said, wiggling the tail at Archie.

He chuckled. “That one looks like a troublemaker. And a bit more like a brownie than a gnome.”

“Really? Are you an expert on fairy lore?”

He shrugged. “I’ve dabbled in the topic. Your uncle has an excellent collection of books on the subject,” he said, motioning to the bookshelf.

“I’ve made my way through the Roman, Greek, and Mesopotamian gods. Haven’t gotten to fairy tales yet,” I said with a grin.

“Well, there is always time after dinner.”

“Of course. As Uncle Horace says, I am never idle.”

“Aren’t you? That’s very good. Idleness breeds a dull mind.”

“Then you aren’t of the opinion women should be idle?”

Archibald laughed. “Goodness, no. What an absurd idea. As far as I know, women have minds too.”

Well done, Archie.

Grinning, I turned my attention to the little gnomes, determined to get my work done well before Archie. The first gnome, the wild looking chap, I assigned the job of a tailor. I placed a needle in his hand then fashioned him a little pouch to carry his spool of thread and spare button. When I was done, I set him aside then eyed Archie. Even though he was working on decorating his gnome, he turned again and again to his sketch of my clockwork design. With his free hand, he made some additional drawings as he worked.

“Don’t get distracted,” I warned.

He chuckled. “My hands are working on different tasks.”

“How is that possible?”

“A mystery even to me, I’m afraid.”

I lifted the second gnome, a funny little chap with striped leggings and antennae like a bug. Pulling some jingle bells from the trimmings basket, I attached the bells to the end of his antennae. I then outfitted him with a paintbrush and added on some festive red and green ribbons. I set him aside just as Archibald lifted another gnome and began adjusting his arms so he appeared to be playing the trumpet.

Lifting the third gnome, determined to be done before Archie, I got to work. This little gnome was designed to look like an old man. Wearing a pair of spectacles, a green doublet, and tan trousers, he was a stoic creature.

“Scissors for you,” I said then lifted the tiny bits of metal I’d salvaged from the clock parts. Focusing hard, I fashioned a tiny pair of scissors. Using a file, I shaped the metal then screwed the arms together. Struck by new ideas as I worked, I also made him a tiny hammer, screwdriver, and another clockwork device that I envisioned punching holes into leather. I attached them all to the gnome’s tool belt.

When I paused for a moment to stretch my back, I heard other voices in the house. Apparently, Uncle Horace’s other guests were beginning to arrive.

Archibald set a gnome, whose hat covered his eyes, his floppy shoes far too large, in front of me. He was playing the flute.

“I’m gaining on you, Scarlette,” Archie said with a good-natured chuckle.

“Not at all. I’m so confident that I’ll win that I knew I could pause a moment to stretch. I think the house is filling. If you think your grandfather might need you, we can postpone our race.”

“Are you conceding?”

“Never.”

“Then you’d best get back to work. But thank you for your kind thought. Besides, we are nearly done.”

“That we are.”

“We make an excellent team, Miss Rossetti. What do you think?” he said then paused. “Automatons by Rossetti and Boatswain,” he said, motioning in the air as if gesturing to a sign.

“Our workshop name?”

“Of course.”

“Master Boatswain III, you must be careful, or a girl might think you’re proposing.”

“Maybe I am.”

I chuckled. “Tease.”

“Am I teasing? Are you sure?”

I paused and looked at him.

He grinned at me but said nothing more.

I lifted the little gnome pianist. “What do you think?” I asked the gnome. “Cheeky, isn’t he? What should I answer?”

Archibald grinned at me.

I tipped the little gnome toward my ear as if to listen.

“Ah, I see,” I said. “Thank you for your good counsel.”

Archibald laughed. “Now who is teasing?”

“Teasing? Why it’s always good to find wise counsel, and doesn’t he look wise?”

“The epitome of wisdom. So, what advice did he give?”

“Why, Master Boatswain, you know the counsel between an advocate and a client is private. And you only have fifteen minutes. Back to work.”

“Now how the Rossetti and Boatswain partnership might work,” he said with a grin.

“You know I can’t stand idleness.”

“Idleness? In a Boatswain household? Never.”

I laughed and got back to work, but my heart was beating hard, and I could feel the sting of red in my cheeks. If the conversation went on a moment longer, we might be announcing our impending nuptials by dinner. Hardly suitable since my father was still out of the country. And to think, I had just met Archibald Boatswain III that very day. Was it possible to become enamored with someone in an instant? Perhaps, if a little gnomish magic was at work.