Zealand

38. Meeting the Crew

When Captain and I returned from London on Monday afternoon, we paused at the house to load our portmantles, bundles and bags into the carriage. After I helped the crew carry it all into Zealand's great cabin, he bade me stow my finery in the cloak closet. Then I took my bag of boating clothes and my bundled bedding and descended the ladder to the upper gun deck. With the bag hung from a cascabel,[1] I fluffed the goose feathers and spread the ticking in my hammock.

Mister Pett had said the work would be completed in the early afternoon, and I saw that many of the crew had already moved aboard. But they had all chosen places further forward, and I pondered this. Then recalling what I had seen while exploring the ship, I realised – they are closer to the cookery and the forecastle mess. Should I also be there? Do I eat with them?

I must since I no longer take my meals with Captain. Part of the necessary separation he had talked about – about which he had talked. No matter, though. I am close here, just down the ladder from his door.

My thoughts were interrupted by the squeal of the hatch cover being slid open, and I thought of rubbing beeswax on its ways as I turned to see the golden buckles of shoes on the steps. Elegant shoes, like my best.

As a man emerged down the ladder, I recognised him as one of the officers, though I had no name for him. While I wondered whether I should greet him, he looked up behind him and spoke, "Careful with those, lads. They're not sacks of pataters."

Next, a young man – actually a boy appearing not much older than am I – came down carrying a large bundle and a bag. He was followed by another, and that one by two more, all similarly laden. Then the officer strode across to the gunroom[2] door, opened it and beckoned them in.

Will it be too noisy here so close to the ladder with everyone coming and going? Not everyone, though. Only the officers. But also the mates and midshipmen up the ladder from the lower gunrooms. How many are they? Maybe put another gun or two between me and the ladders.

While I puzzled, the four sailors came out of the gunroom, and one asked, "Why'd ya choose way back here? We's all up ta the front."

I pointed up at the hatch. "Because this is much closer to my duty station."

Another of them said, "Don't you recognise him? The haughty one what opened the door for us. He's the captain's lackey.[3] Maybe thinks he's too good for the likes of us."

The other three nodded and laughed.

Realising this was like the taunting Captain had said I might encounter, I tried to recall how he suggested I respond. Aha! Respond, not react.

"Indeed, Captain's lackey. Or Boy, as he calls me. But although I am well experienced in sailing a barge, the ways of a ship and the sea are new to me, so I need your wisdom and guidance. Would it be better if I tied my hammock forward with you, that I might more quickly learn?"

The four looked at each other, their eyes widening. Then one asked, "Ye sailed a barge?"

"I did."

"On the river?"

I nodded. "In all tides, currents and winds until the barge captain bought these ships and asked me to join him here."

I watched their faces, wondering whether I had said too much. Was I boasting? Was it more than needed?

"What age have ye?"

The celebration of my thirteenth birthday last week flashed through my mind. "Coming now to fourteen. So, would you allow me to tie my hammock forward with you?"

"Or we could tie ours back here. Easier to find and away from the crowding, snoring and farting."

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The beginning of gloaming was upon us when I finished cleaning from Captain's supper, and after I had lit his sconces,[4] I bade him goodnight. As I made my way forward to the heads, I realised I should have cleaned his privy before I left, using that as a ruse to find my own comfort. To-morrow.

Afterwards, on my way from the heads toward the forecastle, two bells sounded, and I ran the meaning through my mind. Midway of the second dodge.[5] The next will ring three in a half-hour, then another half-hour the ring will be eight to end the watch.

I looked into the forecastle mess to see the tables still filled with sailors, now more boisterous than when I had finished supping. I had brought a bundle of papers to read, but the light was far too dim for that. Besides, it might put them at risque of being wetted, what with all the ale on the tables. And some of the men now behave like those Captain had pointed out in the Globe – heads fuddled with ale, he had said.

So, aft and below to the gun deck, where I found no others at their hammocks. And this was good, for when I sat to remove my shoes, the hammock tipped me out onto the floor – the deck, I must remember to say.

I stood and pressed my hands here and there across the hammock to test where it might be safe to sit without again being spilt. Of course, toward the centre, not near the edge. I sat again, this time with more care. Then when I had undressed, I undoubled the feather ticking, sat in its centre, swung my legs in and laid, pulling the other side over me. Not the comfort I have recently known, but so much better than the hay bags of the garret.

As the faint glow from the deckhead prisms waned and then disappeared, the gun deck fell dark. And in short order, it was so dark I could see nothing, not even my hand a few inches from my eyes. Accustomed to reading between supper and bed, I wondered how I might hang a lantern here. To-morrow. Sort it when I can see.

I must have slept; otherwise, it was too soon for three bells. As I lay there wondering, my mind drifted to being awakened at Billingsgate by the clamorous cacophony of the church bells announcing the fire. These are so gentle and rhythmic compared to those.

Ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding, ding-ding was the next sound I heard. Again, I must have fallen asleep – too soon for that, otherwise.

Will I awaken at every bell?

One bell pealed me awake, then two and three. And with the three came snoring. Several people snoring, and I drifted asleep until four bells.

Notes:
[1] A cascabel is the knob at the breech end of a muzzle-loading cannon.
[2] Gunrooms were enclosed spaces at the after end of the gundecks, and from 1748 onward, the upper one for officers was called the wardroom.
[3] Lackey didn't have today's derogatory connotation in the 1600s. Ashore, it was another name for footman, a servant who tended the table and the door and ran errands.
[4] Sconces are metal bracket-candlesticks fastened to walls – here to the bulkheads.
[5] The two half-watches between the afternoon and the first of the night watches were called dodges before they became known as dogwatches in 1700. They had been created to give seven daily watches, relieving the crew from standing the same times each day and night.