Pricking the Meridian

I set aside the scriber and reached for a heavy brass wheel pounce tool lying by an open ink pot. Cradling my red relic tightly against my side, I guided the spiked rotary gear along the margin of the linen map with my free hand. The tiny brass teeth pierced the parchment in a rhythmic sequence of minute punctures, leaving a clean, perforated line that tracks along the coast. It creates a discrete border that can be torn away or traced in the dark without a sound.