Zealand

2. Of Learning

As we sailed down the river, the clouds ahead were lit gold on their bottoms, showing the sun would soon rise. I recognised the Tower when we passed it, but all the stately houses which followed were new to me. Captain told me they were the mansions of some of the Lords, and they can be seen only from the water or across it.

I troubled with this, watching the passing scene in silence for a long while as I thought. The priest said there's only one Lord – another truth he was hiding. With all the other things Mother said he twisted, little wonder she stopped taking me to the church. I was thinking about how to ask Captain when he began pointing to the parts of the barge and giving me their names. After all that, he explained how the sails worked and how to adjust them, showing me as he turned the barge this way and that across the river.

When he finished this, he said, "For safety, a barge captain makes all the decisions and gives all the orders, and the crew must obey immediately without question. There can be only one responsible for everything – the good and the bad. If the captain makes a mistake, he accepts it and learns from it, as we all should."

I pondered his words during the long silence which followed, finding good reason for such strictness – that we work together, not separate. All the while, I marvelled at the mansions along the embankment, not ever seeing anything near so grand. When the river's bend changed from left to right, the houses stopped, and London fell behind us. I was about to turn to look back at it when Captain pointed and asked, "What is the name of that line, and what is its purpose?"

"The starboard shroud, sir. And with the port one, it keeps the mast from tipping."

"Fine. And the name of the line that carries the jib?"

"The forestay, sir, and with the quarter shrouds, it keeps the mast from falling forward or aft."

"A bright lad, you are. Shall we see what else you have learnt?" He lifted his hand toward the fluttering sails. "If I told you to stop the canvas from trembling, how would you?"

"Two ways, sir. Swigger the sheets of the jib and main, or if there be room, fall off the wind until the luffing stops."

"Which is best now?"

I looked up at the sails then at where we were. "With the river now turning to the right, we need to follow it, sir. So now, it's best to fall off."

"Indeed! And how would you do that, lad?"

"Push the tiller a bit to the right until the luffing stops, then middle it again."

Captain did as I described, the sails shaking all the more as the barge turned to the left, and I puzzled, trying to reason how I was wrong. 

Then he then pulled the tiller the other way as he said, "A common error by those new to boats, lad. Watch this – we turn opposite to the tiller. See how it moves the stern." He pulled it left again, and the shaking reduced to fast trembling and then to steady and quiet. In this manner, we continued down the river – him asking, me telling and him doing. I was not every time right, but with him doing it the way I told him, I fast learnt what was wrong and why.

When the fields became patterned in shades of greens and golds, I asked what they were, and he said, "Farming, lad. Growing food for the people of London." He stood from his perch and pointed ahead. "Another mile or so to that grange. There, we will fetch a load of carrots, turnips, beetroots and onions for the market."

As we neared, Captain gave me one order after another, and I was pleased that I understood them all, and even more pleased to see the results of my actions. The jib was again on the deck where I had made my bed. The mainsail was half-lowered, and it billowed out when the wind caught it as we turned upriver.