Zealand

23. A Change of Plans

Captain remained silent, his eyes straight ahead as he guided Bessy downriver in the following breeze and gentle ebb. When we reached the riverside mansions beyond the Tower, he lifted an arm and swept it past them. "I had planned to build one such as those, lad." He blew a loud, deep breath. "But even more grand than any of them."

He shook his head. "What can I do with nine and a half feet?"

I didn't know what to say, so I remained silent.

"Nearly a year of planning. All the drawings. The architect's fees. The Lord Mayor's approval." He blew another deep breath. "Wasted. All wasted."

He was silent again, and I still didn't know what I might say to help.

As he steered Bessy around the long bend to the left, I adjusted the sails with no need for his orders, so the silence remained. Then around the big bend to the right, as we changed from running to reaching,[1] still not a word.

I had not before seen him like this.

Finally, at the bend before Deptford, to distract him from his mood, I pointed ahead. "New ships alongside, sir."

He looked at their masts and nodded. But his silence remained.

When we drew around the bend, and the first hull appeared, he stood to see more of it. "Dutch! That is the fashion of a Dutch ship, lad."

"What is it doing here? We're at – we are at war."

"It appears damaged. Might be a prize."

"Captured?"

"Aye, possibly." He turned Bessy to starboard to see more around the bend, and I adjusted the sails to follow the changing wind.

A short while later, he thrust his fist into the air. "She flies the Union Jack, lad. Captured, indeed!"

More of the dockyard came into view around the bend, and another hull emerged below her masts. Captain moved to stand on the starboard side deck, then he said, "The next one is also Dutch and under our jack. Huzzah! Two jolly prizes. I must learn the story of this."

As we neared, he said, "Count the gun ports, lad."

I did, having to estimate how many had been where a gaping hole pierced her side. "Either twenty-three or twenty-four, sir."

"Aye, I think twenty-four, so forty-eight guns."

As we passed her stern, I read her name, "Delfe. What is that, sir?"

"It might be from the name of the Dutch city, Delft. Renowned for its tapestries and fine porcelain – our soup and tae bowls and the smaller plates were crafted there."

The next ship had no hull damage on this side, so counting her gun ports was simple. "Twenty-one on this one, sir. So, a forty-two-gun ship."

"Aye, the same as my count." He pointed. And there, her name, Zealand."

"Is that another of their cities?"

"Nay, lad. Zeeland is the name of one of the United Provinces, though it appears they have misspelt it."

I looked back at them after we had sailed past, then I compared them to the English ships next along the wharves. "Prettier than ours."

"Aye, lad. The Dutch have an artistic flair we lack in England."

"What will they do with them?"

He turned and pointed. "It appears they are preparing one of the sluices[2] to take them through into a dock. Likely to repair them."

"Then use them to fight the Dutch?"

"Yes, a fine irony."

I watched them until Captain said, "Ready on the sheets, lad."

"Aye, sir. The sheets."

We entered Deptford Creek and wended our way up it to moor to the dolphins. When settled and secured, we went ashore, Captain carrying his portmantle, and I, the rolled map and the cursed Rebuilding Act. Then at home, he said, "Let us refresh, change into finery and walk down to visit Mister Pett."

"Who is Mister Pett, sir?"

"The Master-Shipwright and the Commissioner of the yard. He will know what those ships are about."

A while later, we were welcomed into Mister Pett's office, and after Captain had introduced me, he asked, "The two Dutch ships – what might you tell me about them?"

"Both are fine, strong ships, captured in August and taken to Chatham to repair, but before the fire, they got little more done than offloading perishables and changing their name boards."

"Changed? For what reason? From what?"

"The Navy practice has been to change the names of prizes when they are added to our fleet." Delfe had been Delft, and Zealand had been Zeelandia."

Captain nodded. "And you will now repair them."

"Would that we could, but since the fire, the King has not paid the fleet." He grimaced and shook his head. "Many sailors have been discharged, and they await still their wages."

"So, why are the ships now here?"

"The King has ordered them sold by auction to raise money."

"Might we examine them?"

A smile spread across Mister Pett's face. "Are you thinking of heading to sea again, Captain Bryson?"

Captain remained silent while he tilted his head side to side, the manner I now recognise as his pondering. Then he said, "I understand well the laws of the sea, but the laws of man are often obscure and difficult to fathom. The Rebuilding Act has ruined my plans, and the sea now seems the better option."

Notes:
[1] Running in this context is sailing with the wind abaft the beam, that is to say, from behind. Reaching is sailing across the wind.
[2] A sluice in this context is a gate to hold back water, similar to one in a canal lock. Here, the dock would be flooded by the tide, the ships pulled in, and the sluice closed. Then as the tide falls, water drains from the dock through valves, and the ships settle onto cribs. The valves are then closed to keep the dock dry, so work can be done on the ship's bottom.