Page 33 of Taming the Heiress
"You, a wee lass!" Turning, Norrie chuckled.
"I am a strong swimmer, and I did a good deal of sea diving with my cousins when I was young," she said. "We used to dive down from this very rock, if you remember, Grandfather."
"That's a very different thing than going doon the deep in heavy gear," Alan Clarke pointed out. "I dinna think a lass could do it... or ever should do it."
"This one thinks all the world is open to her," Norrie said, adding with a wink, "as well she should."
Dougal found the exchange odd, seeing Meg scowl at her grandfather as if to hush him.
"I'd like to see what Mr. Stewart described," she insisted. "If I could go diving just once, I could later make some drawings of the coral, the fish, and so on, for my journal."
Realizing that she was sincere, Dougal nodded. "It might be possible," he said quietly. She nodded and smiled, quick and bright. "You'd need some courage for such a venture... but I imagine that you have it." He had seen her face a gale strong enough to tear apart the very rock beneath their feet.
"Miss MacNeill is a wee bit lass, and the weights are brutal," Alan said. "She couldna stand up in the suit."
"She would need help with that," Dougal agreed. "Once she entered the buoyancy of the water, she would be fine. Miss MacNeill looks delicate, but I suspect she is strong enough—and probably stubborn enough—to dive under the sea."
"Ach," Norrie drawled. "You have the right of it. She'll do whatever she minds to do, and in a quiet way. You'll never hear her fuss about it, but before you know it, she's managed to do the very thing you told her not to do."
"Aye, but a wee lass shouldna go diving," Alan said firmly.
Meg gave them a determined look. "I am simply saying that I would like to try it sometime."
"It might be possible someday," Dougal said, "though not practical or proper here on a construction site. Besides, there are creatures in the sea that would carry you off in a moment."
She looked at him sharply. "Oh? Kelpies?"
"I was thinking of basking sharks," he replied.
"Ach, a basker would not take her," Norrie said. "A kelpie, now—then she'd need to watch out. Especially on Sgeir Caran."
Dougal held Meg's gaze for a moment until she finally glanced away.
Eager to continue his tour, Alan led them along the plateau to look at the crater that had been leveled for the foundation. Over eighty feet wide and nearly two feet deep, the cavity was a bustling site. Men inside swept away debris, and masons wielded hammers and chisels to trim the huge blocks of gray granite, some of which had already been fitted into the circle. One was being lowered, as they watched, with ropes and pulleys.
"The walls," Alan said, "will be nearly nine feet thick at the base, greater than the rest of the tower, to sustain against waves and storms. The force of the strongest gale is calculated against the mass of stone blocks of this size, and the base will curve just so"—he demonstrated with a sweep of his hand—"to compensate for the impact of strong waves on the tower. Each stone is trimmed within an eighth inch of Mr. Stewart's specifications. He carefully planned their shape so they will fit tight as a drum."
"It's based on the idea of a round medieval tower," Dougal explained. "The curved shape helps it resist storm force, just as arrows and cannon bounced off of round towers."
"How tall did you say it would be?" Norrie asked.
"One hundred and eight feet to the roof," Dougal replied. "Its beam will be visible for a distance of about eighteen miles on a clear night."
"You cannot measure fog and rain," Norrie pointed out.
"True," Dougal said. "So we make sure the light can be seen for several miles in the thickest soup, so that seafarers will be warned of dangerous rocks in the area. And a bell will also be installed to give warning in fog."
"How long before the light is working?" Norrie asked.
"Next summer, I hope, given good weather. Poor weather and fierce gales can delay us interminably."
"Ach, dirty weather will take down your tower altogether, lad," Norrie cautioned. "The storms on this reef are fierce."
"Aye," Dougal said gruffly. "I've seen storms on this rock." He did not look at Meg, but he felt her beside him like a flame.
"Many of us on Caransay think you cannot build your tower here at all. The sea will take it—like that." Norrie swept his hand like a cat's paw.
"That would make the baroness happy. But I am determined."
