Summers leaned back in his chair. “Their ship designs were modified by need. The Phoenicians graduated from shore coasting and stops at night to long, uninterrupted voyages. I’m going to use a software program developed for some architects doing research in Portugal and at Texas A&M. They created a methodology to test and evaluate the sailing characteristics of ships where no plans were available. The goal was to come up with a comprehensive image. They used Portuguese naus, the trade ships that sailed from Europe around Africa to India and back. Watch.”
Summers bent forward and clicked the mouse. A computer-generated image of a three-masted ship appeared on the screen.
“Looks like a ghost ship,” Gamay observed.
“This is only the foundation. They fed the info from a wreck survey into a computer. Using the software, they developed plans for the ship’s rigging, sails, and spars. The picture is one of those images. By coming up with a hypothetical reconstruction of the ship’s hull, they figured out how the ship performed at sea and in adverse weather. Once they had that mathematical model, they could test it in a wind tunnel.”
“And you can do the same for a Phoenician ship?” Trout said.
“No problem. We’ll use three known Phoenician wrecks that were found in the western Mediterranean and off the coast of Israel. The ships were upright and perfectly preserved in cold water. We used the Jason, the same remote-operated vehicle that photographed Titanic, to come up with a photomosaic. I programmed the specs into my computer.”
A set of drawings that looked like blueprints for a shipbuilder filled the screen. The drawings showed the ship as seen from above, the side, and head-on.
“The plans indicate the ship is only fifty-five feet long,” Trout pointed out.
“This is a composite of the Israel ships. I’ll add some length. I tweaked the program so that it will automatically add in design features that would have evolved with the increase in the ship’s size.”
A skeletal, three-dimensional image appeared, outlining the ship’s timbers and other structural elements. The spaces between the timbers began to fill in. Decks, oars, rigging, and sail materialized, along with a ramming beak on the prow. The last feature was a carved horse head on the bow.
“Voilà! A ship of Tarshish.”
“It’s magnificent,” Gamay said. “The lines are functional yet graceful.”
“She would be around two hundred feet long, as I reckon,” Summers said. “That ship could go anywhere in the w
orld.”
“Which brings us back to our original problem,” Trout said. “How do we figure out that vessel’s transatlantic routes?”
Pursing his lips, Summers said, “It’s possible to back into a solution like those guys did with the nau. You’d need wind, current, and weather patterns, work in the ship’s probable speed, figure out the pilot’s choices according to ship design, and then factor in historical accounts.”
Gamay let out a heavy sigh. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”
Summers glanced at his wristwatch. “Me too. They want the Atlantis ready to sail in three days.”
THE TROUTS thanked Summers and walked back along the main street of Woods Hole. “Where do you think we should go from here?” Gamay said.
“Tough to say. Kurt only gave us a few crumbs of information. He’s not going to be happy, but I don’t think we have enough to pull this thing together. We may need another approach.”
Like many married couples, Paul and Gamay had a way of anticipating each other’s thoughts. Their work for the NUMA Special Assignments Team, where unspoken communication could mean the difference between life and death, had honed their skills to a sharp edge.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Gamay said. “Every sea voyage starts on land. Let’s go through the Jefferson file again. There may be something we missed.”
Back at the house, they sat at the kitchen table, read half the file, and then exchanged the sections. They both finished reading at about the same time.
Gamay put the papers down and said, “What pops out at you?”
“Meriwether Lewis,” Trout said. “He was on his way to tell Jefferson what he had found when he died.”
“That intrigued me too.” She riffled through the papers in front of her. “Lewis had material evidence he wanted to show Jefferson. I suggest that we try to figure out what happened to it.”
“Might be almost as tough as reconstructing a Phoenician voyage,” Trout said.
“There’s a nexus that might help us,” Gamay said. “Jefferson was president of the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia. He sent Lewis there to prep him in the sciences for his historic exploration. While Lewis was in Philadelphia, Jefferson devised the cipher for them to use.”
Trout blinked his large brown eyes in a barely noticeable show of excitement and picked up the thread. “Jefferson wrote to members of the society to tell them about his Indian language research and the theft of his papers. He contacted a society scholar, who identified the words on the vellum map as Phoenician. The artichoke file was found at the society.”
“That’s better than knowing Kevin Bacon or six degrees of separation,” Gamay said. She looked through the file and found a number for the Philosophical Society and the name of the researcher who had discovered the file. She called Angela Worth, identified herself, and made an appointment to meet the next day.