Zealand

26. Of Money and Audacity

As Captain and I walked along the road toward home, I pointed when Bessy's mast came into view around the creek's bend. "What will you do with her, sir?"

"Sell her, lad. By the time we are ready to sail, the rebuilding will have commenced, and there will be a much increased demand for barges to carry bricks, stones and timbers from up and down the river. She should fetch a strong price."

"And the price for Zealand? Is it strong, as well?"

"Nay, lad. Thankfully, nay. I anticipate that most of those with excess wealth will be too busy navigating the convoluted passages of the Rebuilding Act to even consider venturing at sea."

"So, why have you not bought her?"

"The King has ordered her sold by auction, but we –"

"Auction. That was among the many words I did not understand."

"It is a manner of sale in which the seller gathers those interested in the ship – or whatever other goods are to be sold. He calls for an offer from those assembled, and when one is given, another might offer a higher price, and this continues in turn until there are no higher offers – bids, they are called. The greater the interest, the more bids and the higher the price."

I nodded. "A fine way to gain the most."

"Indeed, and to show what those interested are willing to pay – all except the winner, that is. None but he knows how much higher he might have bid had there been continuing competition. To be successful, an auction must attract a goodly group of interested and moneyed people, and here is the Admiralty's problem in this instance, lad. Mister Pett agrees with me that most venture money is now directed to rebuilding London."

"Which was where yours was going if the..." I slapped a hand to my mouth, then grimaced. "Sorry to remind you, sir."

He chuckled. "No need, lad. That is now behind me, and I am increasingly thankful for the way this has turned."

"So, you might purchase her for less than you are willing to pay."

"Indeed, Mister Pett estimated a comparable ship would cost the Crown eight to nine thousand to build and rig. To commission her from a private yard would approach ten thousand, the builder needing to profit."

Fourteen thousand and four hundred in his bags. Well enough. "But with Zealand's damage and her not being new, you will not need to pay so much."

"Indeed, much less. The Commissioner said prizes seldom bring much more than half – and less still if damaged. But because she is near new, and other than minor damage, very sound, he deems a fair value for Zealand is four thousand and five hundred." Captain paused and raised a finger. "But that is in good times, not such as now with the ravages of plague, fire and war."

"And with all the adventurers remaining here to rebuild."

"Exactly, lad. You are fast to grasp."

"So, what value is now fair?"

"Three thousand, and that is what I bade the Commissioner offer Mister Pepys to forgo the auction."

"Plus paying the Crown's debt to the discharged sailors."

"Nay, not all, lad. There are more than a thousand of them, and I will pay only those we select and agree to sign on."

"Sign on, sir? What means this?"

"Join our crew, lad. Ink their name or mark in the book of ship's articles, attesting to their acceptance of them."

Captain must have seen my confusion, so he continued, "Primarily, these articles define the rules of conduct and authority aboard and punishments for failure to abide by them. As well, they give the process for stating a grievance and for redressing it if necessary. And most important to many, they record the table of shares for dividing the plunder."

"Ooh! Plunder and shares. Like you talked about in your tales. Dividing the booty."

He chuckled. "Aye, lad. That is why many will be eager to sign on – the chance to gain a fortune."

"Will I get a share?"

"Indeed, as will all aboard."

I puffed out my chest. "So, I will gain as much as you."

"In knowledge and skill, you will gain far more than I, lad – you have so much yet to learn." He patted my shoulder and smiled. "But to the plunder, it is divided by share, and each ordinary seaman gets one. Leading hands get one and a half, mates get two, and officers get three."

I nodded as I realised. "Rewarded by their position."

"Aye, lad. The greater the skill, the greater the reward. And the skill is not only with their hands but also with their minds and with their ability to lead and to inspire."

"So, you must get a lot more."

"Indeed, lad. The tradition is that the captain receives twelve shares."

"The extra for providing the ship."

"Nay, lad. Nay, it is a reward for providing experience, wisdom and unerring guidance, as well as being answerable for all and to all.[1]

"But you should also be rewarded for providing the ship."

He chuckled. "Well so, lad. It is rare that the captain is also the owner. Commonly, he sails it on behalf of others, and they and the Crown share half of all gain."

"Half? Why so much?"

"Think on this, lad. Without the ship and the Crown's permission, there would be no venture for anyone. The owner provides the ship plus her stores and victuals, putting a goodly amount at risque[2] in hope of gain. Thousands of pounds wagered without promise of success, so the reward must be sufficiently high to entice."

"And the other half is divided among the crew."

"Aye, in accordance with the table of shares in the Ship's Articles."

We walked in silence while I absorbed this, then I asked, "Is it also this way with trading ships – merchantmen?"

"Much less so now than in the past. These days, with the trade established, there is almost no venturing nor much unknown but for fate. The ships sail established routes and the sailors are paid wages."

"Established like Bessy and the vegetables and fruit."

"Indeed, lad."

"So, traders should be interested in purchasing Zealand."

"Nay, lad. She is more a man-of-war than a merchantman, and with her cargo holds reduced to make room for all the extra armament, none would want her for ordinary commerce. Only the audacious and foolhardy would have interest in her."

Notes:
[1] Responsibility didn't enter the language until 1787, and leadership was introduced in 1821, thus the need for convoluted phrasing here.
[2] The spelling of risque didn't change to risk until 1728, and the word gamble didn't enter the language until 1726.