Zealand

44. Of Command and Control

I stood, watching in startled consternation[1] as Captain gave Zealand to Mister Angus. Am I now cabin boy for him? Do I have a choice? I know nothing about him.

And Captain? Where will he go? Do I go with him? Would he want me to? But how would we? The embankments are now passing swiftly by us on either side. Too late now to go ashore.

Loud shouts came from the forward rail, and I recognised Master's voice calling sail adjustments as we entered a river bend. I watched the yards being jeered, their sails resheeted as the jibs were eased, and I tried to relate the changes to the orders Master had called. But what use is there in learning now?

Captain remained at the forward rail, talking with Mister Angus and three other elegantly-dressed men – two of them the other watch officers, I assumed – but the third? Aha! To replace Mister Angus because he is now Captain.

So, what do I now call Captain? He is no longer one. Seeing him engaged with others, and knowing to not bother him with small matters, I remained quiet as my pother grew. Should I go below and polish the dining table? But that is now for Captain Angus to bid.

Finally, resolving to do nothing until told, I returned my attention to the sail adjustments. After a goodly time with this, predicting Master's next calls grew easier. I was not every time right, but soon, the rights came more often than did the wrongs, and this pleased me.

"What has you smiling, Boy?" Captain's words startled me.

I turned and pointed toward the sails. "Figuring correctly what Master's next calls will be, sir."

"Oh! Are you able to do that?"

"Not every time, but I now err much less often, and it has become easier to reason why I did." Then thoughts of the change of circumstance hit me, and I asked, "What will become of me now, sir?"

He paused and tilted his head in the way I know is his pondering, then he said. "Perhaps, when Master is not busy, I could bid him to discuss with you the finer details of calling sail adjustments."

"Ooh, I would like that, sir. But that is not what I had meant."

"Then, in what manner do you mean this, Boy?"

"With you now gone, sir."

"I do not understand your meaning."

"Do I go with you? Or do I remain here with Captain Angus?"

"He is Mister Angus, Boy. There is but one captain aboard."

I pointed to the forward rail. "But I listened as you gave the ship to him."

He laughed loud and long, like he did that first day aboard Bessy, and I wondered what this meant. That time it turned well. Will this?

When his laughter had settled, he said, "I now see your pother, Boy. I gave him not the ship; rather, the control of it. This must be done each time I give my trust to a watch officer to take control of the ship for me, and we each must be clear in stating our understanding of who is now responsible for her safe conduct."[1]

"Oh, like repeating orders."

"Indeed, and as Captain, if I were to give an order now to anyone but the watch officer, control of the ship would immediately fall to me. And it would remain with me until I pass it on again, and he accepts to be responsible for the ship under my command. And with that done, I must give all my commands to him to pass along to those beneath him. But all this said, Boy, I never relinquish command."

I breathed a heavy sigh. All that pother for nought.

He pointed to the hatch. "What of your day's duties remain undone, Boy?"

"Polishing the dining table, sir. And fetching and serving your dinner and supper – and cleaning from them."

"Leave the polishing until the morrow – we will be in far less exciting waters then. Remain here to observe and absorb."

"Aye, sir. Thank you, sir."

Captain returned to the other officers at the rail, and I puzzled about who the other one was. Master and three watch officers all learning more about each other and the ship – but who is the fourth?

The peal of three bells broke my thoughts. Half nine of the morning – no of the forenoon watch. I turned my attention to the river ahead, and seeing it straight for a goodly stretch, I examined beyond the embankments. The one side was fen and marsh, like across from Deptford, and there was a grouping of houses, perhaps a large grange or a small village, on land rising beyond. The other side of the river was solid ground, and now coming into view, many large buildings stood with ships beside and among them.

As we drew near, I recognised them as ships of the line. Another dockyard like the one at Deptford. How many does the King own? So many that he cannot afford to pay the sailors. But Captain had said this is good for us, and I began to realise why.

I looked aloft and along the deck, thinking about how well they all do their work. How long would it take to train them to do this? Then, I saw the extent of Captain's wisdom with paying them the money the King owed. Of an instant, he acquired a grateful crew, thankful to him. And a trained and experienced crew, so we could depart without delay.

But me? What experience have I? I can do none of that – neither aloft nor on deck. Nor what they do at the helm, let alone what the officers do. Everybody knows what to do and how to do it except me.

Notes:
[1] The word shock didn't have this meaning until 1705, thus the odd phrasing.
[2] The word responsibility didn't enter the language until 1771, and leadership was slightly earlier in 1765, both these giving reason for my awkward turn of words.