Zeelandia

3. Breaking Endless Routine

I soon settled into my duties, using the pealing of the ship's bell to remind me of the timing of repetitive chores, keeping the fires stoked, checking the privy closet, and fetching the food panniers from Cookery Mate for Steward to serve to Captain. These, and the daily rearranging of his bed and cleaning his night cabin, punctuated the floor scrubbing, the dusting, the polishing of furniture, and the washing of his clothes, bedding and table linens.

I learned the life of the staff we had employed.

As we sailed west and then south, the moon waxed toward full, and when my moodiness came, I knew I would soon be revisited. It is easy to hide having no appendage, knowing my brothers' were half a finger's size in their youth, and breeches can be deftly lowered while moving to sit on the boards. Besides, the men are not interested in anything but their own business.

But attending the bleeding? It was then I began using the privy while I cleaned it. After my first few uses of his closet, I wedged a bucket of freshwater in the corner and fetched a dipper and basin from the Bosun. These I left on the bench with a chip of soap and a towel, thinking Captain could also put them to good use.

I regularly saw him as I cleaned or when I added coal to the fires, but from what Steward had said, I dared not interrupt. I remembered Father telling me the life of a sea captain is lonely, needing the separation from the crew to maintain authority. All relation with them must be about the ship and its sailing, not about friendship.

Would offering him occasional conversation be appropriate? I had done this with our household staff, though Mother often admonished me for being too familiar. The staff had no problem with our intercourse, in fact, it seemed to instil a deeper sense of loyalty.

I knew he was pleased with my work, Steward often telling me about his comments. But Captain never spoke to me. Then, this is as Father had described. The sequence of command. The many layers of authority and the order between each. Not wanting to skip over any, lest they feel affronted.

One day, as I lugged a fresh hod of coal to the stove by his chair, Captain looked up from his book and said, "We can allow the fires to die now, Boy. We are entering the warm latitudes, and it has become too hot in here."

I set the hod beside the stove, heaving a sigh to be rid of its weight. "What shall I do with the liberated time, Sir?"

He rose from his chair in shirtsleeves – I had not before seen him without a waistcoat, nor even without a frock – and he motioned toward the stern windows. "Regulate the temperature with those. I am told some of them are made to open. Shall we find how? Steward is occupied elsewhere for the moment."

There must be a hundred panes, but together we examined their frames until he spotted a latch. "Here is one. Look for others such as this."

I examined it, and soon we had found four opening windows, one at each corner of the cabin and two near the centre. After a short pause, I said, "You will have to tell me what is too cold or too warm, Sir."

"I shall. Let us try it with a central one first. Feel how that cools."

I strained to turn the latch, but it would not budge. "It seems stuck, Sir."

"And reasonably so. Likely not been opened for a long while." He laughed. "The last captain seemed insensible to temperature."

I moved out of the way when he stepped up to try it, and I watched the muscles bulge through his shirt as he freed the latches on all four windows. Such broad shoulders. I had thought they were from padding in his frock. I trembled.

"Cooling already," he said as he noticed. "And there must be one or two in my night cabin, but I can tend to those."

We stood for a while in silence, enjoying the slight cooling from the wind astern, then I pointed toward the steps leading to the quarterdeck. "We might open the hatch up there, Sir. Give the air a place to go. And the heat. We always opened the upstairs windows at home to cool the main floor. The heat rising pulled air in downstairs."

"A fine idea, Boy." He paused and nodded. "You seem full of them. The water, soap and towel in my privy are a welcome addition. More convenient than having to return to the basin in my bed cabin."

"I had hoped you would like them there, Sir. It is as we had at home."

"Do you miss home? Family?"

"I do, Sir. The companionship, especially. There are few aboard with whom I can share my thoughts."

He remained quiet as he bobbed his head, then he said, "As it is with me."

We gazed out through the windows at the following seas for a long while in silence, then he turned and pointed to the chairs. "We can sit there and talk from time to time – if you wish."

"Oh, I do wish, Sir. And I have liberated some time with not having to tend the fires."