Zealand

35. New Crew

The following week, after a pause for the Lord's Day, while I continued waxing and polishing the furniture, I responded to knocks at the door. At first, there was a short respite[1] between the men's arrivals, but before long, it was as soon as the previous man had left. Whatever, they each sat and talked with Captain and Mister Gilbert in the chairs by the windows.

After a short while, many of them then took a quill to one of the books. Two books – the Articles for each ship, I assumed. Signing aboard.

Our new crew. But why do some sign and others not?

Did Captain or Mister Gilbert tell them no? Or did they, themselves, say no?

Whichever, how do they know so fast? Only a few minutes of talking.

Then I thought back to my first day aboard Bessy. A few minutes is all he needed to take me as crew. Eager and bright, he had called me. Is that what they seek among these men? Likely.

I had said yes in an instant – without thought. But what choice did I have?

Maybe those here who did not sign have other choices, and they might wish time to consider.

The men continued to come and go, now a crowd of them waiting out the door. As each left, the next one entered, and I directed them across the great cabin to the chairs by the windows. To make this easier, I moved my waxing and polishing to near the door, and while I worked, I decided to count the new crew. Then I tried to recall how many there had been before this, confused by those who had signed and those who had not. Maybe eight, maybe ten.

A while later, an elegantly-dressed man spoke for a long time with Captain and Mister Gilbert after he had signed. Then Captain bade me open the door for the next man while the new one remained with him in the window chairs. One of the new officers, I presumed – from what Captain had mentioned about the different levels of authority aboard.[2]

Three now asking questions. And twenty-two or twenty-four now signed. We need a hundred and sixty for the two ships – but more than that if some need learning. Another two or three days of this – the furniture will be all polished by then – what will I do after? The laundering if the weather turns fair. Then what?

After a few more had come and gone, another elegantly-dressed man remained with them by the windows, and they sat long talking there. Then Captain bade me set four of the polished chairs along one side of the dining table and a single one on the other side, opposite them.

When I led the next man across the great cabin, I marvelled at the sight. The image of confidence and authority. Who would not be impressed by this?

As I headed back, I looked at the trail of mud across the floor – deck, I should call it. Raining again. Need to take the mop to it.[3] Should I do that now while they are still here? Or wait until they pause for dinner?

Waiting is best, that I not interturb.[4] Surely, they will want to eat soon. My belly rumbled as my thoughts turned to the huge game pie and flagons of ale in the pantry.

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Gloaming[5] was well upon us when Captain and I left Zealand to walk home, and we hastened our steps to not be caught without a lantern in the dark. When we had passed through the gate, I asked, "The four men who sat at the table with you and Mister Gilbert, sir – are they officers?"

"Aye, they are, Boy. Those four and two others, now. We need another three or four."

"Why so many?"

"Three watch officers and a Master for each ship."

"That counts eight. Why nine or ten?"

"I would like to have a surgeon. One for each ship if we can find and entice."

"Oh! And all the other men who signed the books – I counted almost a hundred. Who are they?"

"Sailors with a diverse mix of experience and skills. Captain Gilbert and I must now sort them into stations, divisions, watches and ranks."

"Ranks, sir?"

"I had previously mentioned the order of authority aboard. Do you remember it?"

"I believe so, sir. It goes from captain to officers to mates to leading hands to ordinary seamen."

"Aye, these are called ranks. Those in charge at each level oversee those directly below them and report to those directly above. To do otherwise can lead to confusion – even to chaos. Though the crew is comprised of individuals, each member is in a group with others. And each of those groups is in a larger group, and so on up the order. And each group and group of groups has someone in charge."

"And in charge of them all is you."

"Indeed, and selecting those to place in charge at each level is an onerous task, fraught with potential conflict among the crew."

"I do not understand this, sir."

"Some might see themselves as better suited to lead than those chosen."

"Oh! So, how will you choose?"

"It is best to allow them to show themselves through their actions. Two days hence, the dock will be flooded with the rising tide, and the ships will be lined out and into the wet dock. This will afford us the first opportunity to observe them all working together, and we hope the natural leaders will be obvious."

"To both you and to the rest of the crew."

"Exactly, Boy. You continue to show your fast and sharp thinking."

Notes:
[1] Break didn't gain this sense until 1861.
[2] The term chain of command didn't exist until 1825.
[3] The spelling evolved from mappe to mop in the 1660s, but mop wasn't a verb until 1709, thus the awkward phrasing.
[4] Interturb is to disturb by interruption. The word is now obsolete.
[5] Gloaming is dusk or twilight, and the word fell from favour in the late 1600s. It was reintroduced by Robert Burns and others a century later, though mostly poetically.