Chapter 18: Domestic Bliss

November 1803

HMS Odin was not the best looking ship Will had ever seen. Approaching her in a rented jolly boat, he could see signs of neglect and sloppy repairs, but she was also lying low in the water, with nary three feet of freeboard under the gunports. The steady clanking of pumps could be heard, confirming what Mister Davenport had told him. Odin was not seaworthy.

He had the jolly boat hook to the port side chains as befitted a senior warrant officer coming aboard. Paying the two boatmen, he made certain that the bag hanging over his shoulder was secure, before he climbed up the ship’s side. Lifting his hat to the quarterdeck, he strode aft and up the companionway where he met a youngish lieutenant, likely in his early twenties, like Will himself.

“William Potter, Sir, ship’s purser. I was appointed to Odin,” he announced calmly. This was his fourth ship already, and he felt no nervousness anymore.

“Jeremiah Anson, third lieutenant, at your service, Mister Potter. Welcome aboard!”

“Thank you, Sir!”

“You should see the Nº1, Mister Croft. He is in his cabin, but probably resting. If you were to wait, I’ll have him notified of your arrival.”

“That is very kind of you, Sir.”

“Since we’ll be wardroom mates, please call me Jeremiah, or Jerry.”

“Thank you, Jerry. I’m Will to my mates.”

“Good to have you, Will.” Anson nodded. He turned to a runner. “My respects to Mister Croft; the new purser has come aboard.”

The runner nodded, saluted smartly, and turned to run a few feet aft, to the Nº1’s cabin, forward of the captain’s cabin on the port side, continuing the charade by repeating Anson’s words through the closed door.

“For God’s sake, send’im in, Jerry!” came the shouted replay, and Will deduced that Mister Croft was not a whale for ceremonial. Exchanging a grin with Anson, Will followed the invitation and entered the small cabin.

Croft was a beefy man of forty years or so, with greying side-whiskers and lantern jaws. He returned Will’s curious look and grinned.

“Your first posting, Mister Potter?” he asked, making it clear that he had overheard Will’s announcement.

“No, Sir. This is my fourth ship already. I had the Serpent sloop, the Princess Royal hulk, and the Dido frigate before.”

“Well, call me a lubber! You seen anything of the open sea, Mister Potter?”

“Five runs to New South Wales, the last one as purser, returning over the Southern Route and around the Horn. The Princess was harbour service in Plymouth, but Dido was part of the Egyptian campaign. We then patrolled the Bay of Biscay until four weeks ago.”

“All right, we have a salty for a purser. You’ll have your work cut out for you, my dear Potter. Tillman, your predecessor, will face the assizes for theft, and he left everything in a big mess.”

“I had to deal with a similar situation when I took over the Dido. I’ll be fine, Sir. I assume we’re still waiting for the dry dock?”

“You were told?”

“That, and I know the sound of pumps, Sir,” Will answered with a shrug. “She’s lying deep, too.”

“Damn it to Hell, yes! The water casks came loose whilst we were going about close to Ferrol, and bugger me if we didn’t bash in the hull on a bloody rock. We’ve got a fothered sail under her bottom now, but we still have the pumps going for half the watches, excepting Middle Watch. That’s what you get with a lubber for a captain, a ninny for a Nº1 and a crook for a purser.”

“You are not mincing words, Sir, but I received the same views from the senior clerk at the commissioner’s office.”

“Well, what are your instructions?”

“I am to take only small quantities of provisions every fortnight, to avoid spoiling them in bilge water. I suppose freshwater will have to stay above the hold.”

“That’s the word we received, too. You need somebody as helper? The old steward was disrated along with Tillman.”

“Mister Davenport promised to have my steward sent from Plymouth, Sir. He’s honest and competent enough, and he knows my ways.”

“That’s good. An extra hand is always welcome. Is he rated as purser’s steward?”

“When Dido recommissioned, I had him rated, Sir.”

“Enough with the ‘Sirs’; I’m John to my wardroom mates, and you’re Will, right?”

“Yes, thank you, John. How is the wardroom set for stores?”

“We live day to day. With all the water in the hold, the ship’s damp, and foods get mouldy.”

“We’ll need a proper fumigation once the leak’ll be repaired,” Will mused.

“Aye, that and some drying-out time. Nobody’s got a stitch of dry clothing.”

“Should I find a shore laundry for the wardroom?”

“Hell, yes! You know Portsmouth?”

“Not I, but I’ll ask around. What about my slop chest? I’d hate to get my wares mouldy or rusty, but I hear the hands will get their back pay. They’ll want to buy some things for themselves. I guess I could run my own bumboat once a week, if you can spare the cutter.”

“You have wares to sell?”

“Yes. Seeing that I have nobody in Portsmouth from whom to buy, I brought my slop chest from Dido. I’ll also need a week’s pass sometime soon to move my family to Portsmouth. I already found a house that fits us. If it’s all the same, I’d like to spend a few evenings of the week with my family then until we can sail again. Of course, I’ll pay my dues into the wardroom purse all the same. I may have to stay on board some evenings, and I want to get to know everybody, too.”

“That’s a thought. We’ll make sure to drink to your health when you’re not around,” Croft chuckled.

“Cannot hurt, can it? Maybe, once we are moved in, I can invite the wardroom? My wife would like to get to know my mates. We were quite friendly with Dido’s wardroom.”

“That’s a thought and certainly appreciated. One thing, though: I’ll not be part of any cheating in the muster roll.”

“That’s understood, John. I make a decent living without cheating, and I’m not greedy. There are plenty of chances to make extra profits by honest trading. I’d hate to be pilloried, too, and I know that Mister Davenport runs a tight ship at the yard.”

“Good to know. Not that I mistrusted you, but I wanted this cleared up right at the start.”

“No offence taken, John. To be honest in return, I’ll enforce equal rations for the hands, be it a boy or a petty officer. No fishing for meat chunks for the mess mates either.”

Croft nodded emphatically. “Yes, you’ll have my backing for that. It’s bad for the discipline to have some ratings lord it over the rest. Anyway, let us get some work done. Will you move into the wardroom at all?”

“I brought my sea chest. I’ll move in.”

“Better not bring too much. We’ll all have to shift to a receiving ship when we’ll get the dry dock time.”

Will spent the remainder of the day getting to know his fellow officers, few as they were. He also controlled the scarce provisions and spoke with cook and cooper. Equally important, he found the boatswain, Mister Wallace, to learn about the ratings and their needs. They were eagerly awaiting their pay, of course, and Will promised to visit the paymaster’s office to find out when they would receive their dues. He also found out what items the men were looking to buy once they had their monies and prepared a list of things to stockpile.

Supper time saw him back in the wardroom with the other officers before he turned in. The mattress in the purser’s cabin was lumpy and damp, and Will made a mental note to get a new one soonest.

After an early breakfast in the wardroom, Will set out to find the paymaster’s office. A harried clerk there informed him that pay would come in the next days, and that Odin was the fifth ship in his list. It all depended on how much money would be available, but he was optimistic.

With that information gathered, Will then visited the helpful Mister Coutts and asked him to prepare two bills of exchange for Mister Wayne and Mister Barton and to hold them ready for the next morning. Mister Coutts promised to have those ready. When Will explained the purpose, Coutts opined that the price for a house off St. Edward’s Street was appropriate and even a little lower that what he would have expected.

Rather than sending a billet, Will then walked by his solicitor’s office to confirm next morning’s appointment at Coutts’ bank, before he headed for the harbour front where he found one of Odin’s side boats at the quay, waiting for the surgeon, Mister Samuels, who was ashore to visit an apothecary for some tinctures and salves. Rather than hiring a jolly boat on his own penny, Will waited for Samuels to return, and together, they reached their ship.

He reported to Croft, explaining about the situation at the paymaster’s office and then found Mister Wallace to relay the same information to the hands. Wallace told him that the ratings were unhappy about the situation. Not only were they waiting for their pay, but even those who still had money had nothing to buy. Apparently, all the monies in the purser’s care had been confiscated pending a thorough audit, even those held in trust for the ratings.

Therefore, Will made another visit to the commissioner’s office to find out when the men would get their monies back. As it turned out, nobody had tended to that question at all, and a rather embarrassed Mister Barton gave Will access to the Tillman’s victualling book. It was a poorly kept book to be sure, but after a while, Will could make some sense of the scribble. This was not how he had learned to keep a Victualling Book, but before closing time, he had a tally of what was owed to the ratings.

Barton promised to present the tally to Mister Davenport in the next morning so that the monies could be released, and Will returned to Odin.

By ten o’clock in the next morning, Will called at the bank house where he found Mister Hogsbotham already waiting. Mister Barton and his solicitor showed only minutes later, and after short preliminaries, the parties signed the deed over to Will in return for the prepared bills of exchange. They each had a glass of Mister Coutts’s best brandy to toast the transaction, and then Will received the keys to his new house from Barton.

His next stop was the victualling yard where he received a money draft to be presented to the paymaster’s office, his next stop. Here, they tried to defer him, but he was adamant that the monies were part of the confiscated funds of Tillman, and a grumbling cashier paid out the owed sum of £34.12s .6d.

With that money in his pocket, he returned to Odin where he stowed it in his strongbox. Then he asked the watch officer to have the hands assembled on deck. When they all stood in divisions, Will addressed the men.

“Mister Wallace told me that you have grievances about the monies Mister Tillman held for you and about the back pay you are owed. That back pay will likely come next week, but I was able to secure what Mister Tillman owed you from the paymaster’s office. You may have it returned today or else, I shall keep it safe for you. Mind you that I am not in the habit of charging the crew for the safekeeping. Tomorrow, I shall bring my slop chest from the shore, so that those of you who wish to buy a few things can do that. If you have questions or complaints, let Mister Wallace know.”

This was the first time Will had addressed the crew of a ship, and he felt some apprehension, but when he set up a table under the quarterdeck for those who had funds under the purser’s care, he found that Tillman had at least been honest with the ratings, since all the monies owed were accounted for.

A studious looking fellow, a sailmaker’s mate, asked a few questions and then gave Will his savings, £4.3s .11d for safekeeping, and watched with interest as Will entered the man’s name and the sum carefully into the new ledger. Two other ratings followed his example with similar sums of money, but two ratings closed their accounts and pocketed their money. Those were volunteers however, and Will assumed that they planned on spending their savings during shore leave.

He then joined his wardroom mates for their noon meal. He learned that Mister Francis Willis, 2nd lieutenant, was on leave with his parents in Leicester, but he had a few words with the surgeon, Mister Samuels, and with Lieutenant Cluny, who commanded the fifty-two Royal Marines.

The wardroom was rather pedestrian. Croft had started before the mast, Anson was the orphan son of a Berkshire caretaker, Willis ‘s father was an apothecary, and Cluny was the third son of a minor landholder in the Scottish lowlands. Nobody raised an eyebrow when Will relayed his own, low pedigree.

The afternoon was spent going over the muster roll with Croft to calculate the back pay due to each rating, petty and warrant officer. The entries were dubious in part, and they soon called in the bosun. Mister Wallace had been with the ship for almost seven years, and he had an excellent memory. Soon they were able to strike seven names from the list, two who had died but not been stricken from the roll, and five ghosts entered for the purser’s profit. It seemed as if the purser and the former Nº1 had been in cahoots, and Croft wrote up a brief report for the commander in chief which he had Will and Mister Wallace countersign.

When Wallace had left, Croft looked at Will with a crooked smile.

“I could have sworn you’d try to keep the ghosts.”