Cathead

Progress report: the hull is planked!
 

 
As planned, I only finished the port side, leaving the bottom and starboard side open for interior views. I extended planking onto the bottom only far enough to complete the strakes necessary for the bow.
 

 
Above is the bow close-up, with the finished underside of the guards. Finish sanding hadn't happened yet in this photo.
 

 
Here's the stern. I extended the planking a short distance onto the starboard side to complete the transition, and planned the planking to follow a sweeping curve into the stern for aesthetic reasons. I think it's more attractive this way than a square cut-off at the base of the stern.
 

 
Next was priming and painting the planked portion of the hull, the nice clean white of a new steamboat. This sets off the interior bracing nicely. I also added hatch frames, cylinder timbers, and the first line of planking along the centerline.
 

 
Closeups of the bow and stern. The cylinder timbers, in pairs port and starboard, will support the actual steam engines whose pistons drive the wheel, which is supported by the aft extension of these timbers.
 
The next stage is complicated; it's not as simple as just planking the deck. Bertrand's superstructure is supported by timbers based in the hull, and I'd like to do this justice rather than just erecting the superstructure on the deck. Also, there are a number of hog-chains (iron rods which support the hull longitudinally) which run on braces also extending down into the hull. These, too, need to be planned for before decking is completed. Thus I may be better off constructing these items before planking, which means planking around a bunch of stuff. Should be fun to work out properly.
 
In the meantime, here's Missouri's own Cathy Barton and Dave Para with a nice instrumental medley:
 

After a week of cogitation, I decided to move forward on the hull planking using my best judgement and artistic license. Without absolute proof in any direction, I determined that THIS Bertrand's builders would do best to follow the natural line of the hull, making planking as simple as possible for the basic carpentry skills and simple raw materials available (both in real life and in this budget-constrained model).
 

 
I clamped a series of planking strips to the horizontal portion of the hull, to get spacing right, and then extended the fourth one up toward the bow in the most natural curve it would follow (above left). Marking this on the frames with a pencil, I then started cutting planks to length and installing them with wood glue and clamps. Above right, you see five strakes of planking installed. Sorry for the photo quality, this was indoors in evening. 
 

 
Here's the current bow, next to the best drawing I have from the archaeological documents (the latter flipped to match the photo's orientation). The lie of the planks clearly isn't the same, but I just couldn't figure out how to get the deck-parallel planking shown in the drawing with the geometry of the framing shown in other drawings. Not sure who's wrong; logically my bet's on me rather than the professionals, but who knows. Methods like stealers or aggressive spiling just didn't seem to match the likely approach and skill set of the folks actually building Bertrand, so I went with authentic approach if not result.
 
I actually like the sweeping curve on the model, at least from an aesthetic point of view. Also, as you'll notice, most of the bow is in fact covered by iron plating to help protect against river debris and snags, so relatively little of this will show anyway. I really appreciate all the folks who chimed in to discuss this question, and I hope my decision turns out acceptably to most viewers. Mrs. Cathead likes it, so there's that.
 
Finally, notice that on Bertrand, the planks have a scarf joint, not a butt joint. This I'm certain of, because there are photographs of it. So I did my planks the same way, although a bit simplified: Bertrand's planks have a fancy scarf with squared-off tips (look closely at the drawing), which I was not up for recreating at 1:87. So I just cut the angle all the way across and decided it was close enough. This is not, after all, an exquisite world-class museum model, just a farmer's hobby.
 
Clamping planks on this bow has been an interesting challenge. The guards, which I intentionally installed first in order to help guide planking, are also rather in the way of getting clamps down along the hull. The framing, being so close together, also makes it difficult to get clamps in. From a practical standpoint, I've been very happy with my decision to follow the easiest lie of planking, because the planks fit themselves, don't even need soaking, and require minimal clamping to stay put. This result certainly fits with the theme of building these boats the simplest way.
 

 
And here is the hull as of Saturday morning. I filled in the upper bow first, and am slowly working my way down and aft. I haven't done any filling or sanding, so any close-up look appears pretty rough. These planks are quite thin (1/32"), so I intend to do one sanding only when the whole thing is ready, and no more. But to my eyes at least, the pattern is pleasing and approximates authenticity.
 
Gonna be a busy weekend ahead, here's a fitting tune for this work: "Old Plank Road"
 

 
 
That depends on how the planking goes, but so far so good.

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

Kurt, thanks so much for considering this! A few questions, after reviewing your photo and the instructions you linked to.
 
It appears Chaperon has little or no sheer at the bow? Bertrand has a fairly significant bow sheer, which seems to complicate the planking pattern. The deck at the stempost is almost twice as high as the deck at midships, while the hull's bottom remains flat along virtually its entire length. My understanding is, early builders mimicked ocean-going vessels in building a lot of sheer into the hull, which gradually vanished as they realized it wasn't necessary to river conditions. Bertrand is an 1864 boat, in the middle of this transition, while Chaperon is 1884.
 
From the images, it looks like Chaperon's hull/deck is much flatter, like a later boat should be, implying a lot less 3-D curvature to the sheer strake. On my hull, trying to keep the sheer strake parallel to the deck produces one heck of a bulge outward from the frames, because the strake has to sweep significantly upward while also twisting inward. On other hulls I've planked with a sheer rise like this, the frames are more convex outward rather than straight diagonal, accommodating the necessary twist to the plank. 
 
The Chaperon images look like the sheer strake is just bending in two dimensions, and the instructions also imply that the plank should lie naturally along the sheer. That is just not the case with this hull, whether it's how Bertrand was actually built or whether I somehow framed the bow in wrong. I don't think it's the latter; looking at Chaperon's bulkheads it has the same basic straight diagonal framing as Bertrand, it's just that the latter has so much more sheer to complicate the situation. But as it's my first try at a hull like this, anything's possible. Regardless, I ain't startin' over!
 
I agree that the stern won't be a problem, I've already test-fitted planks there without concern. The sheer is less severe and there's way less of an inward curve. Also, I won't be planking the underside of the hull, to increase interior visibility, so it's just the port side I have to get right.
 
So the question remains, was Chaperon's hull as flat as it seems, and was that why the planking was simpler? I've also looked at a really nice build of the USS Cairo, a river gunboat from the same period, which suggested earlier in this build and which appears to have the same diagonal framing. However, that build log doesn't show ANY photos of the hull planking, and it also appears to have very little bow sheer.
 
I really wish I could show a few of you this in person, it's really hard to describe in words and I wonder if I'm explaining it properly? 

Mark, thanks for the input and hope I'm not seeming argumentative. I'm going to keep thinking it over. The obsessive part of me is actually considering building a false bow with similar configuration to test out how each approach would actually look. In the meantime, I can let it simmer while I work on the decking.
 
Speaking of which, here's another update after the weekend's work:
 
While I think about planking, I've worked on filling in structure. The deck was mildly cambered, with deck beams resting on one longitudinal bulkhead running along the keelson. So the first step was to figure out how high I wanted this bulkhead (and thus the camber), and how to keep it fairly consistent along the run of the hull, rising with the sheer of the stem and stern from the flat central portion of the hull. I wanted the camber to last all the way to the stern, but naturally peter out into a smooth surface at the stempost. This appears to be accurate based on my sources.
 
I accomplished this the way I do many projects, by careful dead reckoning. I figured out the proper bulkhead height at the center of the hull, by test-fitting various stanchion lengths with deck beams resting on top until I got something that looked right. Then I cut a stringer the length of the hull, to act as the top of the bulkhead, and began gluing it onto stanchions of equal height along the flat center portion of the hull, letting both ends float free. Once that was dry, I began carefully cutting individual stanchions to increasing lengths, inserting them under the stringer one by one while test-fitting deck beams to ensure a smooth curve. The photos above show the stern end completed; if you look carefully down the hull, you can see the bow end still floating free. Then I did the same for the bow. This center bulkhead was finished with planking on the real Bertrand, dividing the hull into separate halves, but I'm omitting that for viewing clarity.
 

 
At some point I decided I was getting tired of having the hull loose on my work bench, so spot-glued a thick beam to the bottom of the hull, where my clamp can get a good grip. Big improvement; I can now swivel the hull to any orientation I need.
 

 
With the longitudinal bulkhead properly finished, and all support stanchions glued in, I began attaching deck beams, a repetitive but fairly easy process. Below is the final result, after a lot of sanding to produce smooth curves all the way around. Interestingly, the guards (which I intended to be level) ended up a bit gull-winged in places, angling inward slightly toward the deck camber. This annoyed me, until I happened to read in one of my sources that some period boats actually did have inward-sloping guards, though it's believed Bertrand didn't. It's barely noticeable, and at least it's authentic to the period if not the exact prototype.
 

 
After I was happy with the deck beams, I moved on to preparing a few more details. I framed in the five hatches (one at left stern, and two pairs centered about 40' from the stern and just aft of the bow). I intend to leave all these open. 
 

 
I have now reached the point that I have to make a decision on how to finish the model, no more waffling. I am sticking with my original goal, despite various forays into conjecture, of finishing the port side completely, and leaving the starboard side as open-framed as possible to allow views of the internal structure. I want to be able to photograph the model from certain angles and have it look realistically complete, but have in-person viewers be able to turn it around and look inside. Thus I will have to add much, but not all, of the decking (I may use piles of cargo to hide missing decking for photography in some places).
 
With this in mind, I added one more set of details. The deck beams and guards, as installed so far, are actually half as numerous as on the real boat. I decided to leave the deck beams as-is to facilitate interior views, but to fill in the guard supports on the starboard side for more realism. This accounts for the different you may already have noticed, but which is very clear in this overhead photo. Looking closely, you can also see the framed-in deck hatches, and the doubled-up deck beams which support the boiler, about 1/3 of the length from the bow.
 

 
The boat is nearly read for some decking, and is ready for planking on the port side once I decide how I want to do it. In the meantime, here's Alison Krauss & Union Station with the feelings of all Missouri after the last two months: "Rain, Please Go Away"!
 

Mark,
 
So here's another part of the dilemma. Chalk it up to novice innocence or naivete, but I hadn't expected to do much spiling and didn't order any wider planks of the same thickness from which to cut such planks. I was operating under the assumption that planking would be straightforward if I followed the design of the original, since these boats were built by carpenters (not shipwrights) and were meant to be quick and easy to build. So I assumed (without really thinking about it) that the hull lines would naturally lead to an easy lie of planks, especially since the drawings I have imply such.
 
I'm on a really tight budget with this project, though I realize a few strips of wider material won't cost THAT much more, and so far my material estimates have been pretty close. Also, now that I see how the natural curve lies, it's not clear to me HOW to spile planks around this curve without starting with a really wide piece; the curve's pretty severe if you try to keep the strake roughly parallel to the deck. 
 
Final consideration, the hull will be painted white, which I think means the planking pattern won't be intensely obvious. So is it worth taking the more complicated (if maybe accurate) route only to cover it with paint, or take the easy, somewhat more artistic way, and cover it with paint?

Looking ahead, as I slowly make progress on the interior hull framing, I have a question about planking. The Bertrand has a somewhat unusual hull shape: the bow cant frames aren't curved, as in most sailing ships, but straight. This changes the geometry of how planks lie along the bow's curve, and I can't decide how to approach it.
 
Here are examples of two approaches I could use:
 

 
On the left, the approach that appears to match the archeological drawings I'm working from. The line of planking follows the curve of the deck, parallel to the guard extensions. This is also the most logical and straightforward way for the real builders to do it. However, the geometry formed by the straight frames means that the planks don't bend that way; if you make them follow the deck's curve, they bulge out at the bottom away from the frames. In other words, they lie as you'd expect them to over the curved frames of an ocean-going ship. 
 
On the right, the approach that makes physical sense: allowing the planks to naturally sweep up the curve of the bow so that they lie flat on the frames. This looks cool, but would be a lot more work for both me and the original builders. Information on exactly how steamboat hulls were planked has been very hard to find; they weren't visible to any photos, being so low to the water, and none of my references discuss in any detail HOW the hulls were planked.
 
So what do I do? Is there a third approach I haven't considered?

I've mooted that idea before in this build, and am still rolling it around in my head. If I had ever intended to cover all of it, I would have just built bulkheads and been MUCH further along by now. The initial concept was, and still is, to leave one side unplanked including hull and superstructure. I had wanted to be able to pose it from one angle and have it look complete and realistic, while from another angle you could see inside.
 
But I keep reconsidering. As this takes shape, the idea keeps flitting around to do something drastic like not plank at all and just build the whole thing as an open framework including all the cabins and such. In that case I would do just enough decking to support necessary machinery. Of course that decisions puts me on the hook to build some really detailed machinery and that scares me a bit.
 
I've also joked to Mrs Cathead about displaying the hull as a under-construction diorama, but I really want to build the superstructure, too, one way or another.
 
Thanks to all of you. This is a really, really fun build and I'm glad there's some interest in it. While you wait for the next addition, here's another good river song, Big Scioty: 
 

 

Quick update:
 

 
The boatyard is hosting a special visit from the owner's wife and other important ladies. Pretty hard to climb around all that framing in corsets and hoop skirts.
 
Progress made, all the guards (extensions of the deck beyond the hull) are in place. Really starting to show the boat's final shape now.
 

 
Next up, installing bulkheads along the centerline (on top the keelson), slightly higher than the guards to support the deck's camber. Then deck stringers to complete the hull framing.

I have made it through some very tedious work on the Bertrand, getting the hull framing virtually done. Here is how she looks now, though you will have to look closely to see changes from the last photos:
 

 
What has happened since:
Finished framing bow & stern, including inserting lots of little futtock braces into all the bilge corners. A very fiddly task I am glad to be done with. Finished interior bracing with various stringers along sides and bottom of hull. This includes the reinforced keelson, built from multiple layers of wood. Sanded and shaped frames, including the tight turn of the bilge. Will likely need to do a bit more touch-up before planking, once I start testing the lie of planks. Doesn't sound like much, but it was a lot of detail work without major visual progress. All projects have this sort of task. But the hull is now solid and sound. What's really neat is, it's just as flexible and strong as the real thing. You can take it in your hands and flex, bend, and twist it like a snake's skeleton, which is just how the prototype boats needed to be to navigate the sandbars and shoals of the shallow Western rivers. I may have to take a short video of this to share; it's a very different architecture from the rigid hulls of ocean-going vessels.
 
Here are closeups of the bow and stern:
 

 
I haven't yet trimmed the upper ends of the futtocks, so they look very ragged. I won't do so until all the decking beams are in place and I'm sure of the final geometry.
 

 
I closed in the final part of the sterm with a piece of scrap wood on each side, to provide a better surface for planking. This area won't be seen in any angle, so I decided to make it easier on myself.
 
I'm not a master craftsman, and it shows in certain areas. For example, here are two less-than-ideal results along the hull:
 

 
At top, you see the upper internal stringers. The deck beams are supposed to rest on this. But I didn't get it installed perfectly level on both sides, it wavers up and down a wee bit in places. So I filed notches into it where necessary to get the deck beams to sit evenly across the hull. It won't be noticeable in the final product, unless a real craftsman is looking really closely, but I was annoyed to discover my error.
 
At bottom, you see an example of futtocks that didn't come out straight. Trying to clamp all of these perfectly onto the stringers was difficult, and in places I didn't succeed. More annoying sloppiness, but only noticeable close up. Once the model moves back from the eyes, it all blends into the whole. Still, were I to do a hull like this again, I would be more careful somehow. At least, I'd like to think so.
 
What comes next? Before any planking begins, I'd like to install the interior framing and the deck beams. This will strengthen the hull more for planking, and the planking also depends to an extent on where the deck beams are. This is because Bertrand has guards, extensions of the deck that reach beyond the hull, so the guard support beams need to penetrate the planking. I've decided it will be easier to install the deck beams first and plank around them, than plank first and cut a bunch of holes/slots for the guard supports.
 
The decks beams themselves will be a bit fiddly, as the deck has a slight camber that I'd like to recreate. This will mean some very careful installation of internal framing to get the camber right, and produce a deck surface that doesn't look like a wavy fun-house floor or skateboarding rink.
 
Working on this will likely take me a few more weeks before any update comes; this continues to be a very busy time of year in the real world. It's been strawberry season here on the farm, and all that picking does a number on my back, making the idea of bending over a model workbench for fun just a bit less attractive.
 
In other news, the weather lately has been good for wrecking steamboats. Tons of rain in the Missouri River basin, the river rising rapidly, carrying lots of fresh woody debris into the channel. Were this 150 years ago, it'd be a deadly time for boats like the Bertrand. Not to mention, almost impossible to work their way upriver into the flood currents.

I've been working to fix a major goof, which came about through ill-advised efforts to fix a minor goof. Apparently I would make a good politician. Unlike most politicians, my final fix has produced a better result than where I started. Perhaps this makes me unelectable.
 
You may recall that I had begun bending the stern stringers, as Bertrand has a rounded but squared-off stern. I had made individual forms for the stringers, assuming they would retain a reasonably similar shape after bending and I could install them one-by-one. Things looked like this, as in the last update:
 

Subsequently, I glued each stringer carefully in place, aligned with its mate along the inner hull. Unfortunately, I did not realize until all were in place, that their curves really didn't line up well. The stern had a clearly odd warp to it, and any attempt to fix it by attaching cross-braces didn't work.
 
So I conceived the brilliant idea of soaking the whole stern assembly, such that I could bend all these stringers back into place and clamp them in a consistent curve. At this point, I had removed the hull from its taped-down security on the build board. So I boiled a pan of water and propped the hull stern-first into it, with the water at a depth just below the first (last?) hull frame. 
 
This did not work. I had even rebuilt my forms to fit exactly on top of each hull stringers, but to no avail. The stringers did not re-bend well; rather they straightened out 90% of their original curve, while kinking badly when I attempted to re-bend them. Clamping did not work and I was in danger of damaging the hull itself. I played Sailor Scrabble with my vocabulary and took a break for a few days to think the problem over.
 
Here's the drastic but effective solution, which at first glance looks quite like the last one:

Yet in this case, I rebuilt the forms AGAIN to exactly match the pattern of the stringers, and recut the curve on my bandsaw with the whole thing assembled, to ensure the curve was consistent. In the meantime, I delicately cut out all the stern-most stringers back to where they'd been before, to allow grafting the new assembly on. This was painstaking work so as not to damage the lower frames. I made sure, after initial inattention, to stagger the scarf joints so the hull wouldn't have any weak points (I had done the whole hull this way, anyway, and somehow momentarily forgot this obvious point when cutting out the old stringers).
 
I soaked new stringers and bent them onto the frame with copious clamping, as seen above. When dry, I removed clamps from the curve (but not either end), and glued a series of frames along the stringers to ensure the assembly retained its proper geometry when removed from the forms. This was key to my success this time. When I did finally pop the whole thing off, it held its shape beautifully. I then, very carefully, cut all the stringers to match the scarf joints on the hull, and glued the whole thing in place, propping it up with scrap wood to ensure I got the curve and elevation I wanted:


Next I installed the rest of the upper longitudinal stringer (already in place from midships to bow), the first stage in shaping and holding the stern in place. Other supports will come soon. But now I have a proper stern with proper curvature. The price of all this was a few less than perfect joints between the stern and other stringers, as they inevitably didn't dry in exactly the right orientation. I don't think it'll be terribly visible in the finished model, and the overall result is much better.
 
Since the last update, I had also mostly finished framing up the bow. I did this by installing the upper stringer, clamped to the midships futtocks and bent to the proper curve, and glued to a brace on the stempost. Then it was a basic matter of cutting each individual futtock to fit and gluing it from frame to stringer. As far as I know, such boats eschewed curved frames for simplicity of construction:

 
Here's an overhead view of the mostly-completed hull framing, set next to the plans:

 
Next on the to-do list:
 
- Finish installing stringers along bottom and sides of hull.
- Finish installing futtocks at bow & stern.
- Cut & install lots of little angle braces along the turn of the bilge, everywhere I couldn't prefabricate a frame.
- Trim the futtocks to final length.
 
At that point the hull will be strong and easily handled, and I can begin interal framing and/or planking. I'm very relieved to have fixed and improved the stern assembly, and looking forward to handling a completed hull. If only real crises could be solved with knives, profanity, and glue (actually, maybe we've tried the first two enough already).
 

Kurt,
 
Multiple sources discuss possible paint schemes for Bertrand, though little is known for sure. Most similar boats were painted white, with some trim in other colors. The main deck was often either red or natural wood. The model on display at DeSoto NWR, of which I included a photo in the opening post of this build, seems to match the color scheme most commonly attributed to Bertrand based on my reading. Here's another view of it:
 

Well, she doesn't look hugely different than the last update, but some important progress has been made.The boilers are built and installed, as is the main staircase. I'm currently planking the boiler deck (the level above the boilers),and thinking/working ahead on the cabin area.
 

 
Some detail of the boilers & stairs, both scratchbuilt. No one knows exactly what Bertrand's boilers looked like (or anything above the main deck), but this two-boiler layout is what's presented in Petsche's reconstruction, and approved by multiple steamboat historians he consulted with, so it's good enough for me.
 
Wood is fed into the fireboxes at lower front, where a brick ash trough allows ash to be cleaned out and flushed away without setting the deck on fire. Note that the trough ends in a hole in the overhanging guards, where the ash can safely drop into the river. The brick is a strip of HO-scale brick paper normally used for modelling buildings. The fireboxes heat water in the two large boilers, which generate steam into the steam drum on top, which feeds through a single line back to the engines at the stern. The water for the boilers is drawn from the river using a "doctor" pump, seen just behind the boiler.
 
Boilers and such are made from styrene, painted black and weathered with pastels. I made a miscalculation somewhere and didn't leave enough room between the cargo area and the boiler, so the poor doctor pump is sandwiched in there without enough room. I made it pretty detailed for this scale, but it'll never really be seen. Oops.
 

 
Another view of boilers and stairs. I made the stairs by clamping two beams together, carefully measuring out each step's location, then cutting/filing the notches across both beams so they'd match. Then I mounted the beams on double-sided tape to hold them square, and glued on the steps. Worked like a charm. The boiler deck's edge looks rough, because I'm not going to bother finishing it until the whole deck is done and I can trim/sand it all together. Will need to do a bit of touch-up paintwork as well. This is actually true of the main deck as well, now that I look at the photo.
 

 
If you haven't been following ggrieco's steamboat Heroine, WHY NOT? It's brilliant and beautiful, far above anything I can manage. After enjoying his intricate recreation of a steamboat engine, I thought I'd re-post a better photo of my own engines, just to make the contrast clear. These styrene approximations work well enough for me, they get the idea across, but the Heroine is something special.
 
This photo also shows a mistake I made, which will be slightly tricky to fix. You can see how each engine is connected to the overhead steam line feeding from the boiler. Each one also has a separate exhaust stack that vents steam from each cycle. When I built the engines, I left these stacks cut off short, to make the assembly easier to install, reasoning I would install the vent stack later, before I planked in the boiler deck. It was, literally, not until I was reviewing this photo for posting that I realized I'd forgotten to go back and add the stacks before beginning deck planking, so the port-side engine is now buried. I'll have to very carefully measure/guess where that stack projects to and drill a small hole through the deck. The starboard one will  just get installed the way I meant to, before the decking gets that far.
 

 
And a final overhead photo. You can follow the steam line under the boiler deck to see where I'll have to drill a vent stack hole. The decking has progressed since I took this photo, I'm now about halfway across.
 
I've also been working ahead on the cabin structure. I bent to peer pressure and began making my own doors & such, which I hope you'll like. Photos of those will come when I'm further along. The cabin presents its own challenges of construction, as the boiler deck has a sheer fore and aft which mean I can't just build the cabin square on the workbench and plop it down; it has to conform to the deck. I have an idea how to do this without going crazy, and will share the results when it succeeds (or fails). Meanwhile I've been staining more deck beams to stay ahead of the slow-but-steady progress on that front.
 
For today's music, I present Marmaduke's Hornpipe, the "fiddle anthem of Missouri", named for Confederate officer John Marmaduke, who grew up along the Missouri River not far from my farm.
 

 

Well, my beloved Royals have won the baseball World Series, and I'm back to work on the Bertrand. 
 

 
The main deck structures are complete, and I've mostly finished framing up the boiler deck. This was surprisingly difficult, as there's no flat frame of reference (the main deck curves in every direction). Getting the support posts vertical in both directions was quite interesting. I've been very bad about taking "process" photos during this stage, so you'll just have to imagine things. The only consistently flat frame of reference is, oddly enough, the bottom of the hull. So I made a complicated jig of solid wood strips clamped to the hull, from which I could extend vertical squares, onto which I clamped cross-ways strips, to which I could clamp the vertical posts. Fiddly, but effective. I also made strong use of the eyeball; I'd rather a line of posts LOOK straight relative to each other, even if they're slightly out of line relative to true vertical.
 
Once the posts were in place, I began adding cross-pieces. Technically the boiler deck should have a slight bit of camber to it, but I decided that would be too difficult and would be barely visible at this scale, as most of the deck will be covered by the cabins. The more significant camber of the main deck shows up nicely, and is sufficient for my taste. Thus the deck is flat athwartships, but curves gently fore and aft to follow the rise of the main deck in both directions. 
 

 
I finished planking the main deck as far I as intend to; this extent will allow the model to look complete from a port 45-degree angle fore or aft, but still leaves plenty of internal view from the starboard side. It's a little rough in places, but will have to do. I'll put a crate or something over a few plank ends that stick up more than I'd like.
 

 
View from the open starboard side. I've also finished installing the hog chain braces; these angled posts support metal rods running fore-and-aft, with turnbuckles on them, which keep the long, narrow hull from sagging/hogging. I won't install the actual rods until near the end of the project, as they'll be in the way, but needed to do the braces now as they extend through multiple decks. They're intentionally a bit longer than necessary, so I can cut them off just as I like them once I finish the superstructure. 
 
Currently I'm building the boiler assembly, which sits just forward of the cargo shed on the main deck. I intentionally haven't installed the vertical support posts at the front of the boiler deck, to allow me to slide the boiler in there. Once it's in place, I'll finish that area and install the staircases (already built) just in front of the boilers.
 
I think things will go rapidly for a little while, now. Install the boilers, connect them to the engines with steam lines, plank in the entire boiler deck, and then move on to building the cabin area. I still have to decide whether to order a bunch of styrene windows and doors, or try to make my own out of strip wood. The former would be far faster and more consistently detailed, but more expensive and hard to make look just like the surrounding wood. The latter would take a long time, but be a lot cheaper and fit in better if I can make them realistically enough. I'll decide once the next deck is done.
 
I'm holding out hope of reaching my goal to complete this model by the end of the year. Luckily the approach of winter means nice long evenings for quiet model work. She's certainly starting to look something like a steamboat. In the meantime, here's a fine Ozark fiddler playing "Jefferson City", one of Bertrand's ports of call on her way upriver.
 

 
 

Well, she doesn't look much different at first, but some detailed work has been done.
 

 
After a fair amount of consulting and cogitation, I settled on a design for the engines. As we have no idea what Bertrand's machinery actually looked like, I went for a representative approach; something that would capture the spirit of typical steamboat engines for the period. Something like this:
 

 
 
Experts will recognize some missing details; some will be added as I progress, some I didn't think I could replicate well enough to include. For example, I haven't yet added any of the overhead piping that brings steam to the cylinders from the boilers (forward), or the chimneys for cylinder exhaust, both of which will be easier to do later as I progress on the superstructure. But the overall effect is good enough for me.
 
Also completed are the tiller arms, and one side of the bulkheads that separate them from the engineer's main work area. The starboard side won't be built to keep the view lines open from that direction. Note the scratchbuilt workbench forward of the bulkhead. That was a fun little side project.
 

 
Photos from the museum model were useful in getting drivers reasonably right. I also built the aft bulkhead, painted red as on most steamboats of this era. The wheel really turns, though the drivers don't (I wasn't up for making working pistons). Later I'll be adding the various bracing that supports the weight of the wheel, but not yet.
 
Next up, framing up the rest of the main deck superstructure and walling it in. Then the various angled hog chain braces and their iron rods, then finishing the decking, then building the boiler and remaining machinery and running the necessary steam lines. 
 
No idea when the next update will be. Baseball playoffs will be a major time sink for the next month until the Royals' season is over.
 
EDIT: upon re-reading, I fixed an embarrassing error. I referred to the main and boiler decks as the same thing, which they're not. The boiler deck is one level above the main, despite the boilers themselves being on the main. I knew this, but it's easy to confuse if you're not paying attention. I've never seen a convincing explanation of why the boiler deck is called that, but it has always been so on steamboats to the extent of my knowledge.

The hulls of western river boats are quite different from those of ocean-going ships, and this presents the first challenge of this project. For example, the Bertrand has no keel, meaning I will have to work out a new way to lay out the hull’s framing without an external keel to anchor everything on.
 
There are good reasons for this oddity. While early river boats were built like regular ships, with projecting keeps and deep hulls, it was quickly determined that this didn’t work on the shallow, fast-flowing, curvaceous rivers of the region, for several reasons:
 
1)      Keels provide resistance against leeway. This was not only unnecessary for steam-powered boats, it was actually a detriment to the maneuverability needed to handle the sharp turns and shifting currents of the rivers. Riverboats were amazingly nimble, and large keels just got in the way.
 
2)      Keels strengthen the hull longitudinally. This, too, quickly proved to be a detriment under western river conditions. While the long, narrow hulls of steamboats were very prone to hogging, they also needed to be flexible for the inevitable need to scrape over sandbars or even rock shoals. It has been claimed that steamboat hulls needed to flex two feet vertically to handle the river conditions they were subjected to; an overly strong keel could break the back of a steamboat like a ship on a reef, rather than allowing it to slither over shoals. We’ll explore the steamboat designers’ flexible solution to hogging later in the project.
 
3)      Deep hulls provide stability and cargo capacity, but shallow channels made this impossible. Steamboats quickly evolved to barge-like hulls carrying all their machinery and most of their cargo on the deck; their long, flat-bottomed hulls provided all the buoyancy they needed. The Bertrand was only about 14 feet shorter than USS Constitution at the waterline, and almost as wide on deck, but with about 10% of the draft and displacement.  Bertrand would have lasted mere minutes in the open sea, but Old Ironsides couldn't have made it thousands of miles upriver to western Montana carrying tons of cargo.
 
 None of this would matter much for the model if I intended to simply plank the hull; in that case I would either cut bulkheads or shape a solid block, and just plank over everything. But I want to show off the unique internal framing of the craft, and so have to work out the best way to assemble it in place.
 

 
The Bertrand has something like 60-70 internal frames, including some cant frames in the stem. Above, you see examples of a typical midsection frame. These aren't curved the way a ship’s are, just a straight floor joined to two straight futtocks at an angle. There were  multiple ways to make this joint; on the Bertrand this was a cocked-hat chine in which the two pieces were simply butted together at the turn of the bilge and braced with a triangular timber.  I will need to make about 40 of these assemblies, plus 20-30 more that slowly change shape with the curve of the bow and stern.
 
You’ll notice that my frames are a bit thicker than the scale plans imply. This is intentional, as I feel that truly scale timbers would be extremely difficult to work with. They need to be strong enough to hold their shape against fairing and handling, and I don’t think would have enough surface area to hold glue joints properly in some of the unusual arrangements I’ll need to do. This is especially true as I intend to leave a large section unplanked, such that the frames need to hold their own. When the model is completed, I don’t think the slightly overscale timbers will be noticeable, but the model will be much stronger. 
 
I made these by first cutting an internal wooden pattern to the exact shape of the mid-hull, as taken from the plans. The pattern is from slightly thinner stock than the frames. I then cut and lay out the three pieces, with a small dab of wood glue in the two joints, with the pattern holding them to shape. When the glue is tacky, only a few minutes, I spread more on top of the joint and lay two broader pieces at an angle across the joint to create the “cocked hat” brace (this is why the pattern needs to be thinner, so it doesn’t get glued to the brace). When the assembly is dry, I use a sharp knife to carve away the excess, including the plank-width area at the outside turn of the bilge. One broad plank will be used here between the side planking and the bottom planking, as on the prototype. While it might seem that making 40+ of these would take forever, each one takes only a few minutes. I simply make one, set it aside, and work on something else. Doing this in the background means I’ll have them all done by the time I work out the rest of the hull plan.
 
As for how to assemble all these, my current plan is to make a building board with parallel grooves at the spacing & depth of the hull frames. I can then set all the frames into this pattern while attaching them as on the prototype, with a variety of internal stringers and a strong keelson. This, incidentally, is another reason to use my slightly over-sized stock: it’s the same width as my table saw’s dado, making this process very convenient.
 
In the next installment, I’ll explore the bow area, and how I plan to tackle the framing in that area. In the meantime, I’ll be making a lot of hull frames! In the meantime, any comments, questions, and suggestions are quite welcome. 

American western river steamboats represent a unique form of shipbuilding. Designed and built on the American frontier during the core of the 19th century, such boats rapidly evolved to fit the specific needs of the great inland river systems that drained inland North America. In this build I will replicate a typical specimen of this design, the steamboat Bertrand, trying to accurately duplicate the features of these fascinating vessels. I hope you’ll follow along, both to enjoy the construction, and to learn about this obscure but fascinating (to me, at least) part of maritime transportation history. These boats are almost, but not entirely, unlike an ocean-going vessel of the same period, in large part due to the demands of their specific riverine habitat. Below, my updated workbench with Bertrand profile on the wall for inspiration.
 

 
The “western” in western river steamboat refers to the landscape between the Appalachian and Rocky Mountains. Over the course of the 19th century, this area went from the mostly unknown wilderness of Lewis & Clark’s 1804 expedition up the Missouri River, to a land mostly settled and integrated into the United States by the dawn of the 20th century. Most of this landscape centers on the Mississippi River basin, including its major tributaries such as the Ohio and Missouri Rivers. This system drains over 1 million square miles (almost 3 million square km), covering parts of 31 American states and 2 Canadian provinces. Almost all the rivers in the system were navigable in the 19th century for most of their lengths, creating a vast trade and transportation network across the continent’s interior long before railroads appeared on the scene, when roads were all but non-existent (map below from National Park Service).
 

 
The Bertand, built in 1864 and sunk in 1865, was a wholly typical and unremarkable western river steamer, except for its rediscovery beneath a US Wildlife Refuge along the Iowa/Nebraska border in 1968. The boat and its cargo were remarkably well-preserved, due to quick burial beneath river sediment by the quickly changing channel of the Missouri River, and the anoxic environment thus produced. The Bertrand’s mint-condition cargo is now on display at a fascinating museum at the DeSoto National Wildlife Refuge, which also hosts a detailed large-scale model of the craft (shown below). The archeological excavation of the craft resulted in a plethora of information about period steamboat construction. In pairing with the later, but similar, discovery of the sunken steamboat Arabia along the Kansas/Missouri border and subsequent founding of a similar museum in Kansas City, the two wrecks represent a spectacular repository of historical and maritime knowledge and preservation. Below, the gorgeous large-scale model of Bertrand at DeSoto (FWS photo).
 

 
I live and farm near the Missouri River, and have long been fascinated by the history of its steamboats. My first-ever attempt at wooden ship modeling was a scratchbuilt version of the Far West, perhaps the most famous of its class, a sternwheeler which ascended the Missouri and Yellowstone Rivers to extraordinary distances, and carried General Custer’s troops to and from the infamous Battle of Little Big Horn. The Bertrand is a similar craft to the Far West, which was built to ascent the shallow, treacherous river to Montana, while the Arabia was a sidewheeler more typical  of the lower Missouri River below Omaha, Nebraska (and the Ohio and Mississippi). I had initially intended to build the Arabia next, but due to a lack of available plans, and my inability to make it to Kansas City to do research at her eponymous museum, I changed my focus to the Bertrand. Below, my model of the Far West for context:
 

 
I’ve had plans for the Bertrand for several years, having purchased them at the same time as my Far West plans, and consulted them on that project. Now, the goal is a similar boat but at much greater detail: I would like to build the Bertrand frame-by-frame, just as initially constructed in the riverside yards at Wheeling, West Virginia. I have a shelf of texts on western steamboat history and construction, and several more detailed references on the excavation of the Bertrand on order through inter-library loan. I intend to leave one side of the hull unplanked, and possibly the same side of the superstructure, to show full detail throughout. Below, longitudinal internal section of the Bertrand from the plans I'll be using.
 

 
I hope you’ll join me on this (likely) wordy trek through a relatively unknown period of American maritime history and design. Few other steamboats grace this site, so I'd like to fill the gap a little with this project. I’ll try to interweave build details with explanations and demonstrations of why the boat was designed and built the way it was, to give context to this project and help share my love of these steamboats and their (my) home. This project is a significant undertaking for me, a serious step up from my previous Bounty launch kit and various smaller and less-detailed scratchbuilding efforts. I hope to be open to suggestion and advice, and I hope readers will be patient with the slow progress I'll likely make as I juggle this project with the summertime demands on my time, as well as the budget necessary to do this with my uncertain income as a self-employed farmer and writer. Welcome aboard, and unlike most boats of this type, we'll hope this one doesn't sink or blow up on the journey! 
 
UPDATE: Build completed and index available.
I finished this project in January 2016, and compiled an index of the general steps involved, with links to each one. You can review the build index here, in a post at the end of this log.

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

Nicely done, Cathead.  That's a great idea on the prescribed wood.  It'll save a bunch of time and look good as well.

With the boiler deck planked, apart from a section I left open for internal views, I moved on to building the cabin structures. 
 

 
Typical riverboats of this design had two lines of crew/passenger cabins (usually called staterooms), separated by an open main cabin (or parlor) down the centerline in which meals were served and folks could socialize. Only stateroom passengers were allowed in here; those paying for deck passage fended for themselves on the semi-open main deck. The forward-most staterooms would be used by the captain, pilot, clerk, and engineer, then a few mens' staterooms, then a larger room on each side used as galley & storage, then more staterooms aft. Generally the aft-most section of the main cabin was carpeted and reserved for ladies & families only, along with the aft-most staterooms, to save their exposure to cigars, spittoons, cursing, and other male tendencies of the period. 
 

 
The boiler deck has a slight, but clear, sheer both fore and aft (especially aft). So I couldn't just assemble nice, straight walls and set them down, I had to account for the curvature of the deck. The longitudinal walls were built in three sections, with notches to help each fit together. I filed slight angles into these joints, so that the sections fit together in a subtle curve, matching the deck. I cheated slightly with these, using sheets of pre-scribed wood rather than building frames for individual planks, as I did for the main deck structures. However, I did build all the doors and windows from scratch, as advised by the commentariat.
 
In the photo above, the top row are the two ends of the cabin structure (one turned over to show the bracing for the walls), the middle row are the outer walls of the port staterooms, and the lower row are the inner walls of the port staterooms. Lady for scale. I only build the port-side walls, leaving the starboard side open for views of the inner main cabin.
 

 
I started installing the walls by clamping squares across the deck to guide the fore end (not sure "bulkhead" is appropriate in this context). Then I glued guide strips of scrap wood along the deck, inside the runs of the port walls where they wouldn't be seen, and used these as gluing and clamping guides for the walls. Each 1/3 wall was glued in, then the next one sanded to fit and glued in, then the last one.
 

 
Above is the completed cabin structure. By not exposing the interior of the port staterooms, I was better able to support and straighten them with internal stringers. In return, I built two open-sided staterooms at the fore and aft end of the starboard side, to allow a view of the interiors, but left the rest open for better internal views and light. The main cabin should have tables, chairs, wood stoves, chandeliers, and so on, but I'm not up for building all that right now. I'll always have access to this area if I choose to detail it later on.
 

 
A closeup view showing how small these staterooms were, just two bunk beds at most 6' long and perhaps a small cubby for hanging clothes. These were rough frontier boats, not the floating palaces of the lower Mississippi River. Toilets and laundry facilities were at the stern, and will be built and explained in a later post. In this photo you can also see that I managed to install the forgotten engine vent stacks just fine (note: the main smokestacks were actually called "chimneys" on riverboats; I don't know if this terminology extends to smaller stacks).
 

 
Main cabins had a raised clerestory with skylights along the length, allowing light into this central area. Thus I needed to build two of these long, narrow structures complete with regular windows, but strong enough to span the open, unsupported stretch on the starboard side. I did this by laying out two parallel beams on double-sided tape, then setting my cutter to the inside dimension and cutting lots of filler pieces. Using spacers, I laid out the window pattern along the whole structure, then glued in the spacers. When the whole assembly had dried, I peeled it off the tape, sanded it smooth, and painted it. I built two of these one right above the other, so I could visually line up the spacers and ensure the two pieces were identical.
 

 
And here's the result, along with a good start on the beams supporting the hurricane deck (supposedly named for the constant breeze up there).
 

 
And here's a better overall view from an angle, giving a sense of the cabin's overall structure and placement. 
 
Next tasks:
Frame in the rest of the hurricane deck (also serving as the cabins' roof), which extends forward as far as the boiler deck does, but aft only to the end of the cabins. In other words, the forward boiler deck is covered but the after boiler deck is open. Build the aft-most structure, housing the pit toilets (opening into the wheel) and laundry. Lay out and install the hog chains, iron rods which extend longitudinally through multiple decks and support the fore and aft weight of the boat, preventing it from hogging (particularly from the weight of the sternwheel). When I started this project, I had hoped to complete it by the end of the year. That seems unlikely now, but the end is nevertheless in sight. It's exciting to see the Bertrand really taking on its full form, beyond the barge-like appearance it's had for so long. No music this time, too busy to come up with something interesting. Thanks for reading, and Merry Christmas or whatever seasonal salutation warms your cockles. 

The foremast is quite similar to the main mast; only the length of the topmast differs. Both mast tops were completed with cheeks (size according Pegasus and Marquardt), battens and the bolsters.
 
Before I attach the saddle to the mainmast I will have to finish the hoops for the driver... the last part looks awfully like shop language - and that from a landlubber. I mean before I glue that table thing for the inner end of the boom  onto the lower mast I will have to put on those rings which fix the sail to the mast.
 
Both mast had only two parts and were relatively simple. Therefore I became a bit high-spirited and tried a bowsprit closer to what my clever books say.
 
The bowsprit itself got a square end for a square hole in the cap and instead of those stop cleats I added bees. Marquardt doesn't mention them but Lees on the other hand doesn't make exceptions in the use of bees for smaller vessels. As they work quite well on Granado and Pegasus I fabricated them according to Lees and Pegasus.
 
I read about the problems others had with the splintering wood provided for the bowsprit cap. Therefore I coated it first with CA glue before drilling two 3mm holes in several steps. It's important to use sharp drills. The lower hole was then filed square. It worked fine.
 
For the jib boom I turned again to Lees and made an octagonal inner end and a conical outer end.  For stability reasons I didn't want to use the method from the topmasts but used  4mm dowel to make it in one piece. There is a 3mm octagonal section inboard of the bowsprit cap and the outer part is similar to the kits plans except the modified end.
 
A word about all the ringbolts for the rigging: Usually I attach them only reluctantly in this stage of the build. Fixing the required blocks, thimbles or ends of lines to them is much easier when you can do it on the table with lot of space to work. Drilling a hole and attaching then the ringbolt including what is fixed to it with a bit of CA glue works well during the rigging process. Only when I'm absolutely sure about the location or if it would be difficult later I drill the hole for the ringbolt in advance.
 
With the masts and bowsprit assembled I put them provisionally in place to check the new proportions. If I don't botch too much with the sails this should become an elegant little Pickle.
 
 

fabrication of hoops made of rolled paper soaked with glue
 
 

parts of the fore mast with crosstrees, cheeks, battens and bolsters
 
 

mast top before painting (yes I know about the missing safety harness but after a few tots of rum this seaman did that stunt by his own free will)
 
 

mast top finished and painted
 
 

bowsprit, bees, jib boom, saddle and cap
 
 

assembled bowsprit
 
 

jib boom
 
 

 a pretty Pickle

Good point that it wasn't JUST Pittsburgh, I over-generalized there. But I think the broader point remains, that even early steamboat machinery was mostly being manufactured in the Ohio valley and thus was built/adapted specifically for the boats, even if using generic industrial designs as a template. I hope I'm not over-reaching here,  you're certainly more of an expert than I, and I don't mean to tell you your business. Just thought the readership would enjoy some more information on the subject, to chew on.

Also, I've been skimming through a few of my references, which imply that steam engines were being adapted or designed specifically for western riverboat use pretty early on, certainly by the 1830s. So it's also possible that Heroine's engine, while based on a factory design, was also custom-built for her along similar lines. Certainly a number of early steamboat engines were salvaged from wrecks and put to use in basic land settings like sawmills.

Mark,
 
This image shows a "typical" (if there is such a thing) steamboat boiler, including the mud drum:
 

With the end of the semester approaching, I wasn't able to get a lot done this week. 
i was able to do a little more work on the engine.  I rebuilt the rockers to the simpler configuration and finished the packing for the valves and almost finished the supports for the poppet levers.  I started to blacken the engine but  it didn't take in some spots so next week I'll go over it once again.