by Smith, Skye
Perhaps if Daniel had been born to wealth and had studied law at college, he would have been more impressed by what Pym and the others had achieved. Perhaps if he had not fought in the battle at Newbourne, or had not carried the letter explaining Alex Leslie's terms, or had witnessed all the posing and political glad-handing, then perhaps he would have stayed longer in London.
In truth, he was angry with Pym and the others because the one man, Alex Leslie, who had done more towards collaring Charlie than any other was never mentioned nor given any credit. Alex had been born in the gutter, not in a fine house. He had reached a position of power through skill and determination, not because of his father's connections. He had beaten a massive English army without having angered the English people by wasting their sons' lives. He had demanded three simple terms for peace, even though the politicians on both sides had fattened the treaty with endless demands.
Alex Leslie had collared this king. That was the pure sweet truth of it, and yet not a single pompous parliamentarian from England or Scotland bothered to raise a toast of thanks to the man. Daniel had had enough. He made his excuses to Mary and Alice and Robert and Oliver and then he and his men caught the next Cambridge coach home.
The excuse he used was true enough. He wasn't a Puritan, and he wanted to spend the Winter Festival with his own clan, rather than with Puritans who did not celebrate the annual change in the sun from shortening days to lengthening days. Mary and Alice decided that his real reason was that he was missing his new family in Wellenhay, and they were probably right.
* * * * *
The shortest day of the year at Wellenhay was a miserable dark day. It was not particularly cold, and it was not windy, but the endless low clouds that drifted drizzle in from the sea kept the day almost as dark as the night. It was one of those days when everyone in Wellenhay kept close to the longhouse which was warm and well-lit and filled with good company, good food, good cheer, and dancing, singing and story telling.
It was the perfect time for Daniel to propose his latest plan towards moving the village to the warmth of the New World. He explained to them all how they now had a ship that was large enough and fast enough to travel across the ocean, and how they had Spanish gold coins set aside for such a journey. He explained about the Brownists in London who were willing to charter the ship to take them to Plymouth in New England, which would allow the crew of the Swift to explore the islands for one or two or three that would serve them as a new Wellenhay.
Everyone was in good spirits despite the misery of the day, and the plan got rousing cheers from the men, perhaps because of the misery of the day, but the women were strangely silent. It was Daniel's own wife, Venka, who spoke against the plan.
"Not yet two years ago,” she told the clan, "we lost one of our ships, and with it a third of our men. Though I agree that we need to explore some of the islands of the New World for ourselves, such a journey would be fraught with risk. If the village were to lose another ship with all hands while we have still not recovered from the last disaster, then it would be the end of our clan. Daniel, I cannot allow you to risk our men's lives to this journey."
"Venka,” Daniel stared at her in disbelief. "How can you say this? If we do not explore the islands, then we cannot choose from them. If we do not choose, then we cannot move the village. If we do not move the village then we will be here as the winters get longer and harder. That will also be the end of or clan, but it will be a slow and terrible end."
Cleff could see Daniel's temper was rising, so he interrupted him. "Danny, the women are agreed on this, and they so outnumber the men that there is no way you can win this argument. I ask you to listen to Venka's words rather than jumping to your own conclusions. She did not say you cannot go and explore, and she did not say that you cannot take the Swift. What she said is that you cannot risk our men's lives. Do you understand, lad? Go and explore and find us an island across the ocean, but not with a crew from Wellenhay. Not with me, or with Anso, or any of the rest of us. We must stay here and work the Freisburn and keep Wellenhay safe and prosperous."
Daniel just stood and stared around at his clan. They had decided this while he had been in London. They all knew how this would end weeks ago and no one had warned him. He felt betrayed. Venka reached for him to hug him but he pushed her away. She had betrayed him more than any other, for the women followed her lead. He stared at her flushed with anger and getting angrier by the moment. And then a bucket of icy water hit him in the face.
"Get over yourself," Teesa told him as she set down the bucket. "At least you are allowed to go exploring, nay, encouraged to go exploring. Does it not matter to you that the clan trusts you to take the Swift and the gold? Some of us women volunteered to go as your crew but we were not allowed. I would love to go exploring with you, and you ... you ... oh, get over yourself and look around at the folk who care for you, who are so proud of you."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Pistoleer - Slavers by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14
Chapter 17 - Sailing south to Morocco in February 1641
Edward, a dour-looking man, helped Daniel to spread out and weigh down his charts on the dining room table. Six men and over a dozen women then crowded closer to see them. "Before we ink the agreement that will take you onto my ship and to the colony of Plymouth, I wanted you to understand the route I will take, and the length of the passage, and the risks."
First he pointed out England, the Cape Verde islands off the coast of Africa, the Carib Islands, the Floridas, and Massachusetts. He kept circling his finger first to the south west from England to Africa, then straight west to the Caribbean, then north along the Floridas to Massachusetts and then east back to England.
"The trade winds go like this,” or so he had been told. "In a giant circle around the ocean. In the winter there are storms in the north and gentle winds in the south, while in the summer there are storms in the south and gentle winds in the north. That is why we must leave now and go south-west along the coast of Spain and Morocco so that we can catch fair winds to the Carib islands before the great southern storms begin."
"But there are storms here now, and it is freezing even inside the houses,” Edward's wife Anna, a horse-faced woman, pointed out. "And you expect us to survive them in your little ship?"
Yesterday he had given them all a tour of the Swift Daniel at Queenhithe quay just upstream from the Tower of London. With all of them aboard it had seemed like a much smaller ship. "My,” he caught his words for he had almost said 'seer', which to these Brownist religious zealots would be the same as saying 'witch'.
"Uh ... my clan can read the storms, for we have sailed the North Sea since time began. February will be very cold but the winds will be light and from the north east. As they blow us further south, our frozen butter will become softer and softer, until it completely melts. When it melts we will turn west across the great ocean. We will be cold for a week at the most."
The early and frigid winter had decided, finally decided, his whole clan that they must think seriously about moving their village of Wellenhay to a warmer place. It was not uncommon for the freshwater Fens to freeze over for a few days each winter, but this year even the salty Fens near Wellenhay island had frozen over, and not just for a few days. All of January they had been able to walk all the way to Ely on the ice. His friend Robert Blake had supplied the crew from the port of Lyme, where times were hard because few trading ships used that port anymore.
Robert was also coming along, and since Daniel was unknown to the crew, yet they had all crewed for the Blake family before, Robert had been elected captain. It was yet another blow to Daniel's ego, but he could not fault their choice. Daniel's only experience at mastering a ship was in the North Sea, while Robert had years ago mastered a ship on a voyage to Morocco which now would be the first leg of their route to the New World. He had promised Robert that he would never confuse the roles of ship's owner and ship's master.
"So
we will sail southwest along the coast of the continent, passed the Canary Islands, until we reach the Cape Verde islands, and then ..."
"But those islands are Portuguese,” Edward interrupted. "And most of the way is in Spanish waters including the Canaries and the coast of Africa."
"Our king, bless his neck, wants to be a friend to the Papist kingdoms,” Daniel explained. "England is at peace with both Spain and Portugal, and my ship is registered in Bridgwater and sails under English colors. Now, as I was saying, we will take on water on the African coast and wait for a promising wind and then sail straight across to the Caribe. We will then explore the islands we pass as we sail north towards your Plymouth Colony. We will stop long enough in Plymouth for you to make a decision on whether to stay there or not, and then we will cross back to England with the summer winds of the northern ocean."
"But that is such a long way around,” Horse-face pointed out as she moved her finger in a straight line from England to Plymouth. "Why not go straight across? I think you are taking the long way only so you can search for a good island for your own village."
"That is not true, not true at all,” Daniel replied. He moved his finger clockwise around in a circle on the chart. "Pretend that my finger is the winds. In the center, where my finger never touches, there is no trustworthy wind. We could be becalmed for a month, or swung around on fickle winds. The route I explained is the route that every ship takes. It was the Portuguese explorers who first discovered this Volta-do-Mar, the Turn of the Sea."
"But it is such a long way around,” Horse-face insisted. "How long will it take?"
"On a sailing ship, the shortest way is the way of the wind. If we are lucky with the winds, two weeks to the Canaries, four to the Caribe, six to Plymouth, and four back to England. So three months if we do not stop anywhere."
"And if we are not lucky?"
He did not like Horse-face's attitude, but he stopped himself from telling her that it could take the rest their lives. The crew would have understood such a jest because such was the reality of sailing the seas, but not these landlubbers. Such a jest would just frighten them. "As much as double if we are very unlucky, but that time would not be spent on the sea, but in a port waiting for better winds."
"Unless we are becalmed."
He wanted to say 'or eaten by sea monsters' but instead he said, "Yesterday on the ship I told you why we chose the Swift for this voyage. It is a galliot, and therefore is as fast under oar as under sail. We will never be becalmed for longer than the daylight hours, because in the cool of the night all of us can take turns on the oars."
"So how long will we be delayed while you search for a warm island?" Edward asked. "There are so many islands." It was a fair question.
"I know exactly what I am looking for, so most islands that we pass will be of no interest. You see, my clan are dairymen, and fishermen, and traders so we need an island with dry land and water for our herds, and fish for our nets, and close to the trade routes of ships, yet hidden from view and easy to defend. If ever we find such a place then we will stop for a few days, or a week, to explore all around it. But this you know already, for it is why I am charging you only half of what other ships would charge you for passage."
"You mentioned risks, what risks?" Edward's cousin, a London carpenter, asked. These folk were all from London. The few men were tradesmen setting out to start a new life in the New World. Mostly the passengers were women on their way to join husbands who were already in New England. Two of the women were taking their young children. None of them knew anything about the sea, or about making their way beyond the cobbles of a town.
"I assume that you mean other than the usual risks of a sea voyage?" Daniel took care answering this. He needed to be truthful without making the long list of risks seem daunting. "There is a small risk that other ships will try to capture the Swift. England is a peace with the Netherlands, Spain, Portugal, and France, so their fleets will help us rather than hurt us."
"What about pirates?"
"Ah, yes, there are pirates. The Swift is less at risk from pirates than the normal pinnacles and fluyts that sail these routes. The Swift is a galliot, which is the type of ship favoured with African pirates because it is fast under sail, fast under oar, and very fast under both. Because we can row into the wind we will be able to escape most other ships. On your visit to the ship you saw our cannons. Once we are in warmer waters I will train the crew to be gunners, as I was trained by the Dutch navy.
Besides, this is one of the safest times to be an English ship. Ever since the Dutch defeated the Spanish and Portuguese fleets off our south coast, the Dutch fleet has controlled the seas, even the Caribbean. I bought the Swift from the Dutch Navy in good faith, and they will keep that faith by defending us from pirates.
There is the risk of sickness. In the heat of the tropics, water and food quickly spoil. Sun fever is a problem for fair-eyed folk like ours. There are tropical sicknesses that we have never heard of. There are plants and snakes and fish and flies that we have never seen before, so we do not know which are poisonous. The greatest risk is that many of us will fall sick at the same time. We are not so foolish as to allow that to happen."
With a nod and a smile Daniel left Edward's folk to speak amongst themselves, while he walked over to the short, dark-haired man leaning against the far wall. Together they moved through the house to the front room.
"Well, you convinced me," Robert Blake told him. He looked around at the spacious room. "I think the Cromwells did well in buying this house. They will be happy here. Lots of room for their children."
"Betty's father bought the house for them,” Daniel replied. "And he will hold Oliver's feet to the fire until the debt is repaid. So, I hear that Oliver has made enemies of the king and the House of Lords."
"He has become John Pym's bulldog. By that I mean that he makes all of Pym's fiery speeches for him, so that Pym can dance forward afterwards and pretend to be the balanced diplomat to quell the tempers and bargain for whatever serves the reformers best."
"And yet nothing gets done."
"That is because everyone is spending too much time wooing the House of Lords," Robert replied. "The Commons woos them to get them to pass the Bill of Attainder against Lord Strafford, you know, the king's deputy in Ireland. The king woos the lords to get them to block it."
"What is this attainder thingy?"
"It means taking away all rights from a person. His right to wealth and property, inheritance and titles, and even his right to life."
"But Strafford was just one of many. What about all the rest of Charlie's henchmen?"
"Ah, but he is the easiest target." Robert explained. "If we can force through the Attainder Bill for him, then we can force it through for others."
"But the king would be a fool not to stop it. Who knows where that may lead to, even to his own neck."
"Well, after they win against Strafford the Reformers will go after Archbishop Laud. We must do that to keep the Scottish Parliament on our side. Personally, I think we should exclude the death sentence from the Bill of Attainder. Take everything from them and their families, and then transport them to the New World. If they were left alive then Charlie and the lords would stop blocking the bill. To my way of thinking it is more important to stop the tradition of inheriting power and privilege, than to take bloody revenge against a few men who, if not for their wealth, would be nobodies."
"Edward is waving to me that they are ready to sign the contract,” Daniel warned his friend. "Come, we must both sign it."
* * * * *
All pilgrims, all idle crew, and all animals had been cleared from the upper decks and sent down into the cargo hold where it was safer and relatively warm. The only animals they carried on the Swift were chickens for fresh eggs and sheep for fresh milk, and those only because four of the thirty pilgrims aboard were under three years of age.
Up on deck it was definitely not safe or warm. You couldn't walk without slipping
on the pebbles of ice on the planking. You couldn't grab anything with your bare hand without your skin freezing to it. You had to wrap a loose knit scarf over your mouth else your breath froze to your beard. The worse part, though, was that Robert had not stopped complaining for his entire watch. "If the wind changes now, Danny, we'll not be able to trim the sails. The lines are frozen in the blocks."
"I know."
"The freezing spray is weighing down the sails. If they don't collapse they will certainly tear."
"I know."
"Yer carrying too much ..." Robert repeated yet again.
"I know, I know, I know. And just what do you expect me to do about it? Our only choice is to use the rudder to keep the sails from beating themselves to death, and our only chance is to outrun this cold before the wind changes."
"Yer carryin' too much sail."
"Well, yes I am, and do you know what.? There is absolutely nothing I can do about it, now is there?" The Swift was lateen rigged, which was normal on Mediterranean ships, and on the caravels that the Portuguese had used to explore the world, but rare on ships of the northern seas because of how clumsy they were to tack. Tacking meant lifting the top end of the lateen yard over the top of the mast. Not easy in calm seas, never mind northern seas.
Luckily the Swift had been re-rigged by a Dutch naval yard. It was still a lateen with each of its short masts crossed diagonally by a long yard to hold up to the long edge of the triangular lateen sail. The difference was that it was the center point of the yard which was affixed to the mast. This was a simple yet ingenious solution to the danger of tacking a lateen and typical of modern Dutch ingenuity. They had solved the problem that had plagued lateen rigs since the time of the Phoenicians.
