Zealand

36. Afloat

The only men who came the following day were Captain Gilbert and the four officers who had joined them the day before. Captain sat with them around an end of the dining table with the two books and some papers. Sorting the crew, I assumed. Add no more until they know who can do what.

Mid-morning, the two captains took a carriage into London, and with the sun and gentle breeze, it was finally fit to launder. In the late afternoon, I had not long since gathered the dried linens from up top when Captain returned. After leaving some papers on the desk and taking others into his satchel, he led me ashore and into the carriage to ride home. My first ever time in one.

Captain busied himself all evening with papers and books, and we spoke little. The next day, when we arrived in the dockyard, a large crowd had gathered near the wet dock, and Mister Pett approached and greeted, "Good morrow, Captain Bryson."

"And good morrow to you, Commissioner Pett. Might we use this tide, or have we need for higher?"

"This is nearly sufficient. We can open the sluices now, and by the time the dock fills, the ships should have floated clear."

"Excellent!" Captain pointed at the crowd of men. "We shall use our new crews to move them. No need of your workers."

"I will bid my yard foreman direct and oversee them, then."

"I would prefer not, sir." He nodded toward Captain Gilbert and the four officers as they approached. "We see this as an opportunity to assess our new hands."

Mister Pett pursed his lips and nodded. "Yes, wise. I shall order the sluices opened."

Captain Gilbert and the officers arrived and greeted us, and after he had talked quietly with them for a while, Captain took a few steps toward the crew and called, "Hoy, Zealand! Hoy, Delfe! Hear here, now!"

The men turned almost as one, then Captain continued, "As you had been told, we will move the ships to the wet dock. Step forward, those who believe you are capable of helping direct this."

I was amazed when about one-third of the men moved forward.

"Fine, then. Now, among you who have shown, raise a hand if you are able to safely oversee moving the ships."

Immediately, ten hands were raised, then another.

"Excellent! You eleven gather over there. Discuss among yourselves how the moves might best be accomplished. Determine who among you will direct the various aspects and who will oversee."

Captain pointed toward the dock. "The ships will not be afloat for some while yet, so take your time to consider and to decide. Above all, during your deliberations, remember we work as crew, not as individuals, so each of you do what is best for the ships."

Then he turned to Captain Gilbert and the officers. "Make a list by name and ship of all those who had initially stepped forward. A second list of those who had raised their hands."

I delighted in watching this. Selecting themselves by their confidence. Then, when Captain and I were alone, I asked, "What if their confidence exceeds their ability, sir?"

"Their discussions should sort that."

"Should? But if it does not?"

"Their actions will show it. Those who think about themselves, rather than about the ship, will become obvious. As will those who might need to step in and set things right."

"How have you gained so much wisdom?"

"By observing and pondering,[1] though much augmented through discussions such as this, Boy."

We watched the three groups, and from their lively intercourse and their pointing, they all appeared to be discussing how to move the ships. Then after a long silence, I said, "They are all involved now, trying to figure the best way to do it."

"Aye, Boy. As I had hoped would happen. This portends well for the ships." He nodded toward the gang-board. "We shall watch from atop the poop."[2]

A few minutes later, we looked down from above as a long line of men boarded, many of them then disappearing down through hatches. Captain bade me remain silent and try to figure out what they were doing. He said it would soon become obvious, but it had not yet.

Two men in the bow leant over the side – over the bulwarks, I should say – then they threw a line ashore. There is now water around the ship, so ashore is correct.

Men ashore took up the heaved line, and as they hauled it, a rope as thick as my wrist was pulled from Zealand's bow. "A mooring line, that they may pull us out of here," I said to Captain. "Like we had pulled Bessy from Billingsgate Dock."

"Aye, Boy. In ships, lines such as that are called hawsers, and that one is threaded through a hawsehole from the gun deck." He pointed to the port rail. "From over there, you will see a similar hawser being heaved ashore from aft."

"And all of this is happening without you calling orders."

"I had made my order, Boy. I told them we shall move the ships. Here, it is an exercise in having the crew sort themselves, though usually, I would tell the Watch Officer to prepare to move ship. He then tells a Mate who tells a Leading Hand who then directs his small group to make it so. As Captain, I have no time to busy myself with the small details; my concern is the overview, and I have all the levels beneath me to ensure my will is correctly done."

"So, you cannot tell them directly."

"I could, but then I would have to inform those below me, that they are aware; otherwise, they might see it as unauthorised activity and command it be stopped. Strict adherence to the order of authority is necessary in any ship with more than one aboard."

I nodded. "As it was in Bessy."

"Aye, and the larger the crew, the more it needs to be organised by rank and position." He paused and pointed to his feet. "There! You feel that?"

"Feel what, sir?"

"The sea, Boy. The gentle movement. We are afloat."

Notes:
[1] Analyse didn't acquire this meaning until 1809.
[2] The poop is the highest and aftermost deck of a ship. Though poop in this sense dates to the early 1400s, the term poop deck didn't evolve until 1717. And no, the crew moved their bowels in the heads – the bow of the ship – and poop's infantile excrement meaning didn't arrive until 1744.