Zealand

28. The Auction

Thursday, 14th February 1666

Snow had fallen overnight, and Thursday's sun had set it to melting, making our way awkly[1] as Captain and I headed toward the Royal Dockyard. When the road turned us from the creek, he said, "Among the reasons I enjoy the sea is to be away from the cold and the slush and slop of winter."

"Oh! Is there no cold and snow out at sea?"

He chuckled. "There is, lad, but not in the Caribbean. And with the liberty of one's own ship, we can choose to be where the winter climes are salubrious, returning here only for the summer when the tropics turn torrid and tempestuous." Then pointing back at the creek, he continued, "And instead of our twenty-four feet of tide, the Caribbean sees less than a foot."

"So, not always tending lines."

"Nay, lad. But much of the time down there is spent sailing or waiting at anchor. We are in port only to sell prizes and to revictual." He pointed toward the dockyard gates. "But, to here and now. I am surprised to see so many arriving."

"For the auction, sir."

"Hmmm! We had anticipated none others with interest – have we misjudged the temper[2] of the people?"

"I do not understand, sir."

"Nor do I."

After that, Captain turned silent, and he remained so as we passed through the gate and walked across the yard toward the crowd at the dried dock. With his lips turning between pursed to not, I knew he was in deep pondering and that it is best I not interrupt.

I tried to count how many had gathered, but with them all moving, I soon gave it over to examining the rigging on the masts of the two ships. So alike, one to the other – except for the missing topmast. If he buys both, which will he choose to captain? And how does he captain at night – when he sleeps?

The crowd parted when we approached, and as we passed through toward the edge of the dock, I realised their moving aside was caused by the finery of our attire – most here are in soiled and tattered clothing. Would any among them have the means to buy a ship? I think not.

So, why are they here? Likely to gawp at the ships. But why all at once? And why at this time?

Several other finely attired men stood near the dock edge, and among them, I recognised Mister Pett. He nodded a greeting to us, then in a loud voice, he called, "The King has commanded that these two prizes, captured from the Dutch, be sold at auction. We shall begin with Zealand." He turned and pointed. "A fine and solid ship with minor damage, offered as is and where is. With previously expressed interest, we must begin at three thousand pounds."

Captain called, "Here, sir. I bid three thousand."

A murmur spread through the crowd, but no voice was raised.

Mister Pett swung his arm back and forth past those gathered. "Any higher?"

After a long pause, he asked, "None? Then, sold to Captain Bryson for three thousand pounds."

Captain and I both blew loud breaths, then he smiled at me and said, "We now have a ship, lad. We shall soon –"

He was interrupted by Mister Pett's voice, "And second, we have Delfe, another fine ship of similar build. Her hull has been pierced by a cannonball, though with no compromite[3] to the integrity of her structure.[4] She is also offered as is and where is. With no prior interest stated, what are we bid?"

"Two thousand," Captain called.

Then from among the crowd came a loud, deep voice, "And one hundred higher."

Captain startled, then he called, "Two thousand and two hundred."

"And fifty more," the voice called.

Captain turned to me and whispered, "Possibly a decoy[5] from the Admiralty, lad." Then he called, "Two thousand and three hundred."

"And fifty."

"And twenty-five more." Then he whispered to me again, "She is also worth well above three thousand, lad."

"Two thousand and four hundred," the voice called, now at a higher pitch.

"And fifty more."

No reply came to Captain's bid, and after a long pause, Mister Pett called, "We have two thousand, four hundred and fifty. Do we hear higher?"

Following another pause, he added, "None higher? Then, sold to Captain Bryson."

Loud cheers burst from the crowd, and several men approached us, one saying, "We thank you for providing work for us, sir." As others voiced similar sentiments, I realised the crowd is dockyard hands. Likely ordered here by Mister Pett to begin the repairs.

Then a well-attired man addressed Captain as he neared, "Sir, I am Frederick Gilbert, and I had hoped to purchase one of the ships, but my purse is not so deep as yours. Have you need of captains for the ships?"

Captain extended his hand to shake. "I need but one. I shall command the other."

"Might we talk?"

"It would be my great pleasure, Frederick. Please, call me William."

Notes:
[1] Awkly was a common spelling of awkward in the 1600s.
[2] Temper, meaning inclination or disposition, is from the 1590s. That of an angry state of mind didn't arrive until 1828.
[3] Compromit became compromise in the 1690s.
[4] The word structural didn't enter the language until 1814, thus the convoluted phrasing.
[5] In the early 1600s, decoy meant swindler before it evolved mid-century to mean a lure to entice. The word shill, in which sense I use decoy here, didn't exist until the early 20th century.