Zealand

40. All Hands

I had not long finished cleaning from Captain's breakfast when he bade me follow him to the quarterdeck. As I wound my way up, I thought of what he had said – this is the only ladder aboard that can properly be called stairs. A spiral staircase, he had called it when he cautioned me to not wax the steps, only the railing and the balustrade.[1] To prevent slipping and sliding – the same reason we do not polish the decks.

Up top, he greeted an officer and two other men, and after they had spoken a short while, the bell began ringing fast and steady, and as it continued, a loud, deep voice called, "All hands on deck. Muster abaft[2] the mainmast." This was called thrice more after the ringing had stopped.

Of an instant, sailors appeared out through the forecastle doors and up through the hatches, and soon, a crowd had assembled in the waist of the ship close beneath us. All this while, sailors descended the gang-board from Delfe, and they hastened to gather on the wharf alongside us.

Captain Gilbert boarded Zealand and ascended the ladder from the waist to the quarterdeck, then the two captains spoke quietly as they walked to the railings in the port forward corner. Such a commanding position this gives them. And with their elegant attire, how can the crew below not be impressed?

"Hoy! Hoy! Hist and heed," came a loud call from across the quarterdeck – the same deep voice that had called all hands.

The hubbub beneath us immediately ceased, and Captain spoke, "Good morrow, Zealand and Delfe. What splendid crews we have. And what grand adventures lie before us."

He paused while greetings were returned, then he continued, "As we had told you before you signed aboard, we are bound for the Caribbean to prey upon enemy shipping and settlements. Allow me now to add details to this. The war against the Dutch and the French has gone quiet here, and this is part of the reason the Navy had discharged you. Though the war seems near finished in the waters near us, this is not the case in our colonies across the Great Western Ocean." [3]

A murmur arose, but Captain spoke over it, "In November, the Dutch recaptured the island of Saint Eustace [4] and the French took Antigua from us. Word has recently come that the French have now occupied Saint Christopher [4] and Montserrat, leaving us with only Nevis, Barbados and Jamaica in the Caribbean."

He held up his hand to call for silence. "The King is displeased with this, and he has caused the Admiralty to issue letters of marque to both Captain Gilbert and me. These allow us – with full honour and right – to disrupt the enemy, to capture their ships, and to plunder their settlements."

Loud shouts of huzzah[5] and suchlike erupted, and Captain gave them a short while before he continued in a louder voice, "And we are well suited to that. These two ships are unmistakably Dutch in their appearance, so we have the advantage of surprise. We will appear to them as friendly until it is far too late for them to defend."

The hubbub grew louder.

"Hoy! Hoy! Allow me to continue." The crews quieted as he spoke, "We anticipate many bloodless captures." He reached both hands above his head as if grasping and pulling. "Much like plucking the ripest plums from the trees."

Huzzahs and other shouts again filled the air.

When quiet returned, Captain pointed up the masts. "But we have much to do before we depart. Because the rigging differs here compared to what you know from our Navy's ships, to-day,[6] all hands will learn and practice hoisting, unfurling and trimming our sails. Also, you will learn and practice the fastest and most effective ways to clew, reef, furl and secure them for storms. This will be done by one watch at a time, that you learn to work as you will at sea. And, because we need to take aboard provisions and stores for four months, the other two watches will stow ships."

He nodded toward the helm. "The sandglass and slate show we approach one bell, so you will rotate positions hourly at each odd ringing. When stowing is complete, all but essential hands may fall slack[7] for the remainder of the day."

After a pause until he could be heard above the hubbub, he pointed downriver and added, "We shall sail on to-morrow's first ebb."

The chorus of huzzahs and shouts redoubled.

Notes:
[1] Balustrade entered the language in the 1640s as a row of balusters supporting a railing. The word bannister is an unexplained corruption of baluster, and until the mid-1800s, it was identified as a vulgar term, but since then, it has meant railing.
[2] Abaft means toward the back, and though common in general use in the 1600s, it survives today only as a nautical term.
[3] Great Western Ocean was the common English name for the Atlantic at that time.
[4] These were the English names for Sint Eustatius and St Kitts at the time.
[5] From the 1570s, huzzah is a sailor's shout of exaltation, encouragement or applause. The word cheer didn't acquire this meaning as a noun until 1720 and as a verb, not until the late 1700s.
[6] Today was written as two words until the sixteenth century, after which it usually was written to-day until the early twentieth century.
[7] The term stand down would be perfect here, its modern use having descended from a nautical expression, but it hadn't entered the language until the 1680s, initially as a courtroom term.