Zealand

49. At Anchor

Up top and in my corner out of the way, I listened as Captain took control of Zealand from the watch officer. He talked quietly for a while with Master Forbes before ordering two turns of the wheel to starboard. Soon after this, Master barked orders, and I marvelled at the coordination of the crew as they followed them. Sheets were eased, and jeers [1] were heaved to spill wind from the square sails as hands scrambled up the ratlings.

I admired their agility as they climbed, some stopping at the course yard while others continued higher to the topsails and the gallants. While wondering when I would be allowed aloft, Captain's voice close beside me startled, "We come up into the wind to anchor, Boy. Can you tell me why?"

"To stop the sails from pulling, sir. And to make it easier to furl them."

"Indeed, Boy. And why would we want to do this?"

"To slow the ship as we approach, sir."

"Exactly. And heading into the wind also assists this."

We remained quiet for a while as Master continued barking orders, and I watched the crew respond. When a different voice called six a port, Captain pointed forward along the ship's side. "That hand on the chains is taking soundings."

Not understanding the meaning of his words, I looked to where he pointed. "Chains and soundings, sir?"

He pointed again. "That platform is called the chains, as are the ones below the foremast and mizzen, their purpose being to give a greater angle to the shrouds, offering better stability to the masts." He pointed up. "Similar to how the tops serve to spread the upper shrouds."

I nodded, then still a bit confused, I asked, "And the soundings, sir?"

"Watch for a while, Boy, then you tell me."

As the man cast a line into the sea, another call came from forward, "Five and three starboard." Shortly after this, the man I watched in the chains called, "Five and two a port."

As he hauled in the line and heaved it again, I said. "Measuring the distance to the sea bottom, sir."

"Indeed, Boy. They cast a line with a lead weight on its end and read the depth by the hanks of different coloured cloth rove through the strands at each fathom."

"Fathom, sir?"

"Six feet. And that call of five and two we just heard is five fathoms and two feet."

"Thirty-two feet. How much water does Zealand need?"

"She is well safe in three fathoms – unless there are large waves and swells."

I nodded. "She would bounce on the bottom with those."

"Aye, Boy. In a storm or in the seas after one, we must anchor deeper." Captain turned to Master and said, "Let go at five."

"Aye, sir. At five."

I looked at the small waves and gentle swell, pondering a while before asking, "Why at five, sir? Is a storm coming?"

He chuckled. "Nay, Boy. But after we let go, the ship continues forward into shallower water, hauling out the anchor rode until we stop it. Here, we will snub it at one shackle."

"One shackle, sir?"

"A length of fifteen fathoms."

"Oh! Why so much rode in less than five fathoms of water?"

Captain chuckled again. "It is not the anchor that holds us; rather, it is the weight of the heavy iron rode along the sea bottom. In fair conditions, a ratio of three to one is safe. In olden days, before iron link rodes, weighted hempen hawsers needed to be rove out much more to hold the ship."