Zealand

55. Return to Nevis

All hands rang as the last descended from aloft, and with most still on deck, the crew fast assembled in the waist beneath the quarterdeck. Captain raised his arms and shook them above his head. "Well done all! We have our first prize - our first of many."

Loud huzzahs and whistles erupted, and when it had sufficiently quieted, he continued, "With one watch remaining aboard Naarden to oversee, guard and steer, we will stand one-in-two here until we have settled in Nevis. There will be no off-watch routine - neither cleaning nor maintenance, so you may use the entire time to rest, eat or sleep."

He pointed up. "We fly Dutch colours in case we raise a French naval ship or privateer, and our prize flies Dutch above English to show her capture."

A voice called from below, "What about the Dutch Navy seeing us, sir?"

"We were told in both Barbados and Nevis that they are all in the south - Guyana, Suriname and their islands along the coast. But even if some of them are in this area and sight us, they will do nought but cheer and carry on."

He waited for more questions, and receiving none, he pointed down and then up and said, "Mister Angus, by both the sandglass and the sun, we approach noon. Find our latitude to help determine where we are."

"Aye, sir. Shoot merpass and update the reckoning."[1]

"You have the ship."

"Aye, sir, I have the ship."

Thursday, 31st March 1667

In the early afternoon of Thursday, as we approached Nevis, I saw four ships now laying to anchor in the roads, two more than when we left. When we neared, I recognised one as the largest of the King's ships in Barbados, the one Captain visited before we sailed. Coronation, he called her - and Captain Berry.

After our square sails were struck and furled and we had lost much of our way, Captain ordered three flags hoisted. The combination was unfamiliar - or I had forgotten it - and he was too busy to interturb.

A while later, when the towing hawser was slipped, and hands aboard Naarden began heaving it in, I thought this must be its meaning. A new signal - or one I missed. Whatever, they will come to anchor separated from us.

As we settled to our anchor, I sighted a longboat being pulled toward us from Coronation. Then, recognising the elegantly dressed man in the bows as one who had come aboard in Barbados, I assumed he was the captain. Will he come aboard here, as well?

Then, seeing Captain was for a moment unoccupied, I approached and asked, "Shall I fetch tae for you and Captain Berry, sir?"

"Aye, Boy. I was about to bid you that. It appears he has one of his officers with him, so fetch for five."

I descended and hastened forward, pondering why five. Captain will invite one of our officers, as well. But that is four. Is the fifth for me? If so, I should take it in the pantry. His invitation to dine with him was likely when there are no others. If I am wrong, he will tell me.

Several minutes later, when I returned, Captain sat talking with three others in the armchairs around the low table by the stern windows. Do I set the pot and basket there and get the bowls and dishes? No, to the pantry and use the tray. Better to interturb only once.

Seeing ten scones in the basket, I removed two and set them on a dish, and after pouring my tae, took the tray to them. As I approached, their quiet intercourse became more clear, and I was slow and careful with my serving that I remained longer to hear as much as possible.

"I have ordered a stockade built to hold the prisoners."

Captain asked, "What about shelter for them?"

"We have thought to string canvas awnings until hovels can be built."

"Have you considered the Papist church? Most of them are now little used."

A loud laugh sounded. "And the Jesuits can punish them by trying to cure their heathenism. But jesting aside, that might be an immediate solution. I shall call on the Governor. With the war, he likely has the power to order this."

"Indeed, he would have. And with our prisoners disembarked, may we expect that you arrange guards to relieve our crew?"

"Yes, certainly. And the prize can remain at anchor until we excogitate a means for its disposal."

"Fine. I expect Delfe will arrive with another before sunset. She headed off in pursuit as we closed ours. If our crews are relieved from guarding, we can sail on the morrow for more prizes - unless you have something more pressing for us."

"We have nothing more important for you at the moment. When we left Barbados, the Governor had taken six ships, and they were being stowed and prepared. I expect them here in the next few days. When we have a sufficient force, we intend to establish a blockade [2] of Saint Christopher."

Having finished laying the dishes and bowls and pouring, I set the basket on the table and the pot on the tray, hoping he might call me later to pour more. As I headed back to the pantry, their voices faded.

While I sipped tae and savoured a raisin scone, I pondered what I had heard. Sail again on the morrow for another prize. Prizes - how did I miss Delfe's departure? Of course, I was below doing chores. Is it safe to leave our prizes here unguarded? Yes, the King's ships will watch, just as they guard our prisoners.

Relieved, I took another bite of scone and chalked on my slate the meanings I needed to ask him - stock aid, jess you wit, he thin is om, block aid. When will I understand them all?

Notes:

[1] Merpass is the moment the sun passes the observer's longitude, and its elevation above the horizon is shot to determine latitude. In those days, this was done with a Davis quadrant, an ancestor of the sextant.
[2] Blockade existed as a nown from 1659, but it wasn't a verb until 1684, thus I couldn't use blockading.