Zeelandia

36. Addressing the Crew

I leaned against the seaward bulwarks, just aft of the mainmast shrouds while the crew assembled to await Captain's address. From there, I watched the slow mutation of colours filling the western sky, a wild melange of violets, reds, oranges and golds. Another fine day promised for the morrow.

The murmur of voices around me formed a background to my thoughts, and I allowed them to ramble. I would prefer to have been on the quarterdeck with Charles, but we must continue our ruse.

 Had Steward seen any detail? Does he now know? Will he tell others? How might I find out? I dare not ask. But possibly indirectly. If I ask whether I had offended him with my exposed butt. Or embarrassed him. What if I apologised?

No, that will bring his mind back to it. Best to watch for changes in his behaviour, in his attitude. Listen to his –

A hand on my shoulder startled me, and then a voice, "Did you not hear me? You seem deep in thought, Boy."

I turned to see Edwards, then pointing to the west, I replied, "Watching the changing sky, Mid. I have not before seen such wondrous colours in a sunset. Seems they captivated me. You had said something?"

"I had commented on your cyphering."

"Then, please, do repeat. I was absorbed in the beauty of this and in my thoughts."

"Your talk about cyphering for Captain was not a hollow boast. I thought you were like the last boy who was far too full of himself."

"How do you mean?"

"Your cyphering was the same as what Mister Jenkins had rendered."

"How know you this?"

"Word passes fast through a ship."

"But how in this instance?"

"Mister Jenkins admonished Mid Franklin for poor cyphering, and he shamed him, saying even the young cabin boy did it correctly."

"And how know you this?"

"Mid Gilbert overheard, and he told me."

I put a finger to my lips. "My father said it is not good to spread defamatory stories about others. Now, those near us also know. Would it not be better to assist Mid Franklin with his numbers than to further shame him?"

"But there is no fun in that."

"And if it were you being defamed? Would that be fun?"

"Of course, not. But this is –"

The mid was cut off mid-sentence by Charles' booming voice, "Hoy, there! Hear here, now!"

The crew turned almost as one, heads tilted up to see Charles at the rail, and silence fell. My heart sped at the sight of him. So handsome. So confident.

After a long pause, he said, "Well done, all. Very well done." Pointing to the wharf, he continued, "The last waggon has departed. All we had offered has been purchased. And purchased at prices far above what we had expected."

A murmur arose within the crowd, and it grew until he quelled it by raising his hand. "I had hoped to realise three thousand pounds, and we well did that and near a thousand more."

The hubbub again increased, and after a pause, he spoke over it to quiet the crew, "Deducting the cost of the goods and the victualling leaves us with above three thousand pounds gain." He swept an arm past the gathered crew and back. "And this amount is to be shared among you in accordance with the ship's articles."

Loud cheering arose all around me, and I watched Charles acknowledge it with nods. Then again he spoke above it, "However."

The hubbub continued, so he spoke louder, "However, there is more. Much more."

As the quiet resumed, he added, "Much more is possible. Wisdom shows that holding money for its own self gains nothing. Using it to gain more is how the gentry have become independent. They do not work for their money; their money works for them."

Complete silence had fallen, so Charles continued in a quieter voice, "A labourer earns three or four pounds per year, and since all of that is used to survive, none is left. Using your share wisely, your money can earn more than that each week. We see the three-fold gain made here to prove this."

In the silence which followed, Charles continued, "We shall take one-third of that gain to purchase casks of rumbullion here to sell in our next ports."

"Why not sugar, Sir?" asked someone in the crowd. "There is a great demand for it."

"Sugar is also produced in Jamaica, and we will purchase some there to sell in the following ports. But very little rumbullion is distilled there, and its price is very dear, offering us the possibility of much higher gain."

Charles paused to scan the crew. "We shall spend the forenoon and early afternoon of the morrow taking on more water, provisions and cargo and preparing Zeelandia for sea." He pointed west. "The red sky portends fine weather, and we shall set sail when loading is complete."

Toward the mainmast from me, a man spoke, "But the morrow is Friday, Sir. 'Twill bring us bad luck to depart then."

"Old myths and fables." Charles raised a hand and waved it in a dismissive manner. "Much like changing a ship's name."

"Like this here ship. Gone from Zeelandia to Zealand and back to Zeelandia," came another voice. "And no evil has come from that."

Another voice called, "Like that old crone on the wharf in Portsmouth, cursing the ship for having a woman aboard."

Charles laughed. "If there is one aboard, she has brought us nothing but good luck and fine fortune."

"And your cabin boy's hair, Sir, " Edwards called from close beside me. "There's a myth about red hair bringing bad luck aboard."

"Aye, there are so many myths," Charles replied. "Let us all work at our highest ability to bring good luck and fine fortune. These come from our care and our effort, not from old sea tales."