Young Dick, Page 3

CHAPTER TWO

  “Where is young Richard Digby?” roared Jamie, pretending to look around the room.

  “It is I, Jamie, Sir, let me assure you,” replied Richard.

  “Nay laddie, Richard is a scrawny bundle of bones weighing forty pounds wringing wet; the lad I see before me is a well developed young man – wait, is that a pimple I see upon your chin?” Jamie looked closer. Richard blushed as blood raced to his face and he prayed Jamie would avoid asking any other personal questions. He was well aware of his body changes like pubic hair and changes to his voice.

  “They have looked after me here extraordinary well,” said Richard to a beaming land-lady.

  “I can see that lad, let me have a look at you.” Jamie appraised his charge; what a difference several months had made. Richard had not only gained in height but had filled out as well. His legs had well-formed calf muscles that had tanned in the summer sun and his shoulders now extended out well beyond his torso. His skin had cleared and his light blue eyes shined with youthful enthusiasm. He wore sailor’s cotton shorts and a loose fitting blouse. “You will do laddie; now it is time for you to pay back our investment, you are going to work.” Before allowing Richard a torrent of questions Jamie hustled him out to a cab, and then returned to settle with the publican and his wife. He added a generous tip. Back in the cab as they jolted over the uneven road Jamie confided, “You are to be a cabin boy on a boat undergoing a refit; you will live aboard and attend to many duties.” Richard’s heart leaped and he opened his mouth, but saw the look on Jamie’s face and bottled up a thousand questions.

  The Subtile was being repaired in one of Tilbury’s dry docks. Dockyard workers swarmed over her hull like worker ants and the smell of sawn oak, varnish and oakum filled the noisy air.

  “Can I just ask one question, Jamie?” asked Richard.

  “Aye, lad, but now we are aboard my title is First Mate,” replied Jamie.

  “I – I mean Mister Mate, why is all the damage to the hull and not the masts and rigging?” he asked.

  “That is a good question, laddie, and it has to do with fighting styles. The Froggies prefer to render a ship vulnerable by dismasting and then capturing it at their leisure. We Scots, as well as the English, prefer to destroy their fighting capabilities then board to force surrender. Now follow me to the Captain’s cabin.”

  They stepped around workers, over piles of lumber and under hanging rigging, then down the aft ladder to the Captain’s cabin. To Richard it seemed huge, taking up the entire width of the stern and with the cannons removed it seemed even larger. Anything of value had long been removed but everything pertaining to the ship such as lanterns and brass fittings had been retained in case of Subtile being appropriated by the Navy.

  Jamie issued Richard with his first orders, “Here is a plan of a frigate similar to Subtile; learn all you can without annoying the workers with endless questions. Clean up and make this cabin shipshape, it requires no repair and will not be used by anyone apart from yourself. I will have bedding sent aboard, and you will eat with the dock-workers. I suggest you pester them with your questions then. Welcome aboard, Dick the cabin boy.”

  It may not have been much of a title, but to Richard it was everything he desired.

  Richard spent more time at the water pump and carrying buckets up the gang plank than he did cleaning, but eventually the dirt and grime gave way to the shine of newly oiled oak paneling and polished decks. He removed the brass lamps, hooks and other fittings to take topside, where he spent hours removing the verdigris and polishing them to a brilliant shine. The builders had not cut costs on the Captain’s cabin and the finishing was to a high standard. Books had been scattered around the cabin, all were in French, and Richard had cleaned and returned them to behind the brass rails on the shelves. Among them were a Bible and a small volume published in 1595; Richard placed it to one side. Cleaning the inside of the stern windows posed no problems, but Richard had to be shown how to rig a bosun’s chair and lower himself over the stern to scrub the dirt off the outside. He did not sleep in the cabin as ordered; it did not seem right so he slung a hammock in what one of the carpenters told him used to be the midshipman’s quarters. Here he had to begin cleaning all over again. It was not until the fourth night that he trimmed the wick and lit the cabin lamps to study the ship’s specifications. The frigate was approximately 130 feet long with a beam of 37 feet and weighed 800 tons. She was ship-rigged and Richard made a note to find out what that meant before falling asleep.

  With time now on his hands Richard did some fetching and carrying for the carpenters and swept away the shavings caused by the draw-knife. He marveled at the skill of the old man who worked the blade with a handle at each end. He carved the wood into a perfect fit, leaving the join almost invisible. His endeavors were rewarded by answers to his torrent of questions at lunch-time.

  “Why does the gun deck have no guns?”

  “A ship of the line would, but frigates range their guns on their top deck.”

  “Fore and main masts make sense, but why a mizzen?”

  “Don’t bloody know – ask a sailor.”

  “Why is oak used so extensively?”

  “It is readily available, and suitable trees carry the king’s crest to reserve them.”

  “Is there a better wood that is available?”

  “I have heard there is a denser wood in the new world but its splinters, cause infections. Can’t have that on a warship, can we?”

  “Why has the boat copper on its bottom?”

  “Shuddup and eat your lunch or your bottom will cop it!” There was a collective sigh from the muster when Richard filled his mouth.

  The carpenters had departed and now it was the turn of the riggers. These agile men considered themselves superior to the other trade craftsmen and Richard did not dare to ask them questions; instead he watched with admiration as they tuned the rigging like an instrument that would play before a wind.

  That night Jamie stamped on board and gave Richard orders to accompany a barge to the Royal Brass foundry at Woolich, providing tide and wind were favorable. Richard was learning fast – like, not asking the obvious, like why at night? when it would be more dangerous. If he needed to be told, he would. It was a very large barge and from the stern Richard could not see the bow concealed by a heavy patched lateen sail. City smells assailed Richard’s nostrils for the first hours, then the scent of pasture animals and crops freshened the night air, and finally the dark silhouette of Woolich Arsenal loomed in the half moon light.

  The barge bumped and crunched into the dock, causing those ashore to curse as they threw out the mooring lines.

  A black carriage with a black horse stood stationary away from the dock. A man dressed in black alighted and approached a well-dressed man standing by the covered cargo. Some sort of inspection occurred, then a package-changed hands and the man in black departed. The horse made little sound, as if its hooves were muffled. After mumbled orders and responsive grunts the first of the cargo was winched aboard. They were cannon balls contained in heavy rope baskets and they were arranged carefully on the starboard side. The barge listed to starboard. After many grunts and directions the first cannon was lowered onto the port side opposite the baskets of shot. The barge listed to port. More shot came aboard until the balance was restored. This was repeated three more times with Richard receiving curses, stubbed toes and torn fingernails. Finally, barrels came aboard and the smell of saltpeter left no doubts about their contents. These were carefully stored in the hold.

  The return trip was uneventful, with the river providing the motive power, and the crew relaxed; some even lit pipes in the stern, well away from the hold’s closed hatches. Alongside Subtile, the cargo was winched aboard by crewmembers Richard had not seen before. The cargo was secured down in the gun deck and Richard had to suppress one last question: “Why were there guns on the gun deck?”