Portsmouth – Thursday, 12th November 1676

I stared seaward, lulled by the lap of waves against the wharf and the salty tang of the stiff breeze. I ought to have been mourning, but no tears remained. Nothing remains. Not here.

The pop of another sail filling snapped my attention back, and I watched more canvas being hoisted and sheeted in, pulling the ship more quickly away. Away to where?

I caught myself dreaming again, God knows for how long this time. Long enough for the ship to have sailed well out into the Solent. With a deep sigh, I turned toward home.

Home? A house, an empty house.

I retraced my steps past the ships along the wharf, slowing to scan again the notes and placards tacked to the warehouse doors. All the opportunities – for men. Then a new note, writ large and bold, caught my eye.

A surge of hope rose in my breast as I turned to read the name boards on the ships alongside. Zeelandia, carved and blacked in the stern board of a tan-hulled barque, the second ship along, caused my heart to race. A quick assessment convinced me, so I tore the paper from the warehouse door, and as fast as my skirts would allow, I scurried home to change and pack.

Be prepared this time. Show my readiness. My eagerness.

Near breathless from my race back to the waterfront, I sighed in relief at seeing the barque still there. An old woman, dressed in tatters, stood from her perch and hampered my way, begging. I gave her three farthings, yet she followed me still, likely hoping for more. As I stepped onto Zeelandia's gangplank, she mumbled toothless words, "This ship be cursed, lad; ye'll no return."

"Oh, an exciting adventure, then," I scoffed to the hag and continued aboard, accosted at the bulwarks by a tall, barrel-chested sailor.

"Avast there, lad. Who be you?"

"The cabin boy."

"No, you ain't. We's got none now."

"A placard over there calls for one." I tilted my head toward the posted papers and lifted my burlap bundle. "And I offer my services. All packed and ready to sail."

Barrel-chested looked down at me and my bundle, then his loud bark startled. "Hoy! Horton. Take this lad to Captain. Snap to it, now. A new cabin boy."

Sailors on deck and aloft paused their work to examine me, and they launched into lively banter. The first obstacle had been passed, and my confidence grew as Horton led me aft and knocked on the carved door in the sterncastle. An older man, belly straining the cloth of his white shirt, replied to the knock, and Horton said, "Nother cabin boy's here."

White Shirt nodded and closed the door. A brief while later, he returned and ushered me into a huge space, far larger and more refined than any great cabin my father ever had. We stopped ten feet short of a man at a desk, and White Shirt addressed his back, "Pardon again, Sir."

The man blotted the nib, set down his quill and turned to look up at me from his chair. Too young to be Captain. Must be one of the officers or—

"What sea experience have you?" His question pulled me out of my thoughts.

"My father sailed his whole life, Sir. Started as a cabin boy such as I, then he worked his way to Captain. And with all his tales, I know a fair lot about ships and of the life at sea."

"What age have you?"

I paused a moment to consider what made sense. "Fourteen, Sir."

"You are tall for your age."

"Healthsome living, Sir. But near fifteen."

"Why do you not seek to serve in your father's ship?"

"He promised to take me on his next voyage, but he has yet to return from his last." I tried without success to control my trembling. "Twenty-seven months, now, Sir."

The man nodded. "What is your name?"

"Camille, Sir."

"An odd name. Sounds French."

"It is. My mother's family came from Brittany, Sir."

"Are you prepared to spend two, three or four months at sea?"

"Eager to, Sir. There is nothing left for me here."

"Your family?"

"All gone now. Mother passed on last month."

He grimaced. "So sorry."

"Thank you, Sir. I believe I am past it now."

"Do you know the purpose of this ship?"

"From her looks, I assume it is as Father's had been, Sir."

"Do you understand there is no pay? Rather, there is a share of the profit made on the voyage?"

"As Father had explained."

"You speak well. Think well."

"Thank you, Sir. I was blessed with tutors from a young age."

He pursed his lips and nodded. "Life forward of the mast can be rough. Many of the men are rather crude, and some do not take kindly to new crew."

"Father had told me about some of the vexations." I lifted my bundle. "But I have packed, and I am eager to sail."

"The last lad was too young to withstand the jeering and taunting, and he begged to be set ashore."

My heart sunk. Should have picked an older age. Sixteen, seventeen? Able to handle... 

These thoughts were interrupted by his voice, "I have warned the crew, but to prevent a recurrence, we have fashioned a small space for the next one the first while." He pointed across the great cabin to the forward corner. "In an unused closet."

I tried to hide my relief, but he must have seen it.

"Yes, safer there to begin." He examined me, slowly bobbing his head.

I held my breath in the long silence, then he said, "James, show Boy to his – hmmm – to his quarters. Explain his duties and acquaint him with what is where and with how it all must be."

"Aye, Sir."

The young man turned back to the paper on the desk, lifted his quill, flicked the nib and dipped it in the inkpot.

"Thank you, Sir. You will see I learn quick, and I shall not disappoint."

"Hmff."

James laid a hand on my shoulder and led me to the door in the corner, then in a quiet voice, he said, "Don't talk to Captain except to reply to a question."

I whispered back, "Not even to thank him?"

"No. And speak to me only with what relates to your duties."

"What shall I call you?"

"Steward, and I will call you Boy."

"Yes, Steward." I smiled and turned toward the door. "Warm in here. May I set my bundle in there and remove my duffel?"

"Duffel?"

"My coat. Named for its thick woollen cloth from the Dutch Brabant. Father traded there before the wars."

Steward reached out and felt the heft of my coat's lappet. "Stout. Must shed water well."

"Oh, it does. And it keeps me very warm." I set the bundle on the floor, my arm near numb from holding it for so long. Then I unbuttoned my coat and fanned the fronts. "But it is far too warm in here with it on."

"And that's one of your duties. Keep the fires burning in the stoves. Captain hates cold." He chuckled. "Unless we're in the Tropics where he hates hot."

Figuring I had permission, I opened the door and pushed the bundle inside with my foot, then I stepped in, removed my coat and laid it atop the ticking on the shelf. It was a tiny space, but so much better than what I had imagined; a hammock slung amongst sixty or eighty others.

After checking my shirt front and adjusting my binding, I turned and said, "I am ready to begin, Steward. What shall I do?"