Chapter 2: Purser’s Steward

Plymouth, 1798

It was two years later, and Will was weaving his way through the crowds of workers along the quays of Plymouth Dock. He was to deliver a note from Mister Evans to the commissioner’s office, and he was in a hurry, for new stores were expected. Nevertheless, he frequently felt for the breast pocket of his coat where he carried the letter, but also his own pass that would protect him from the ever-prowling press gangs.

At the conclusion of his second journey in the Serpent, Captain Brooke had given Will an acting rating as purser’s steward. This had Will drawing the pay of a petty officer and enjoying the new position when the ship was bound for New South Wales again. Indeed, two weeks ago, after the conclusion of his third journey to Sydney, Will received a permanent rating from the Plymouth commissioner, the local representative of the Victualling Board.

Therefore, he was wearing new trousers, a white shirt, a blue reefer jacket, sea boots and a straw hat, identifying him as a petty officer of the Royal Navy. Still, when entering the building housing the Port Admiral’s office, the Marine sentries stopped him and a Marine sergeant came forward.

“Whereto, young man?” he asked.

“Purser’s steward Potter, Serpent, with a letter from Mister Evans for the Commissioner, Sergeant,” Will answered quickly, showing his pass.

The sergeant made like he was examining the pass and then waved Will inside where he quickly found a clerk to deliver the letter. Once outside again, he headed for the pier where the side boat was waiting for him and for the surgeon’s mate for the ride back to where Serpent was lying at anchor. The whole bustle along the quays had been unaccustomed and even a bit frightening for young Will in the beginning, but by now he felt quite at home amongst his fellow sailors.

A little bit ahead of him, a young man was moving in the same direction, followed by a porter who was pushing a wheelbarrow with the young man’s sea chest. The young man was tall like Will, but he was wearing a less-than-fitting midshipman’s coat, along with a bicorne hat, white breeches and sea boots. He looked insecure and awkward.

Will quickly found out that the young midshipman was also heading for the Serpent’s long boat. Three days before, master’s mate Calloway had been transferred to a small frigate, and Will suspected that the young man would be the replacement. A poor replacement, to be sure. Calloway was a man with seven years of seagoing experience whilst the young midshipman looked green even to Will’s eyes.

This became obvious when the young man haltingly spoke up.

“Please, is this the S-serpent’s boat, Sir?”

The boat’s coxswain was manfully trying not to roll his eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

“I n-need transport to the ship.”

“Aye, aye, Sir. We should be going soon, Sir, but I’ve orders to wait for the surgeon’s mate and the purser’s steward. May I ask your name, Sir?”

“M-midshipman H-horace Trent, Sir. M-midshipman Ordinary.”

The coxswain, John Melvin, was uncomfortable. “Sir, I ain’t no sir; I’m the cox’n, Sir.”

“S-sorry,” Trent almost squeaked, blushing hotly.

“Umh, Sir, here comes Will Potter, Sir, purser’s steward. Will, this is Mister Trent, Midshipman Ordinary.”

Will quickly spoke, “Good morning, Mister Trent.”

“G-good morning,” Trent stuttered shyly, barely looking up.

Will shrugged at the coxswain. There was an uncomfortable silence until, fortunately, the surgeon’s mate, O’Leary, was approaching, accompanied by a merchant’s apprentice pushing a wheelbarrow with sick bay supplies for the ship. Again, introductions were made, and then the supplies were loaded into the boat’s bow and covered by a tarpaulin. Trent climbed down awkwardly and sat on the stern sheet with Melvin whilst Will and O’Leary took the aftermost thwart.

Shoving off from the quay, the six oarsmen propelled the longboat forward whilst Melvin used the tiller to steer them through the maze of anchored ships, adroitly avoiding collisions with larger boats, and heading to where Serpent was at anchor. Facing the stern, Will had more time to study their new shipmate. The young man was still uneasy and looked around with wide eyes at the ships they were passing. Will also noticed that the young man’s sea chest was old and worn, likely a hand-me-down or bought used. The same was certainly true for his coat, and the bicorne hat also looked worn. For these things, Will had an eye, for his former master had also dealt in used sailor’s kits. Then again, a sprig from a well-to-do family would not be posted into a 16-gun sloop headed for New South Wales.

“Avast pulling!” Melvin ordered, and a few moments later, they were challenged by the officer of the watch.

“Boat ho!”

“Aye-aye!” Melvin hailed back. They were shipping a midshipman, after all. “Longboat with supplies!”

The longboat gently bumped against the hull of the sloop, and the bowman hooked the bowline to the main chains. Trent was supposed to leave the boat first, but he took three attempts to reach the Jacob’s ladder and doused his sea boots in the bargain, before he managed to climb up the ladder and entered through the port. Grinning at each other, Will and O’Leary followed him with ease.

The rest of the boat crew entered the ship through a gun port, bringing in the medical supplies by the same route. Will quickly shed his good coat and his best trousers and dressed in his work clothes. Then he reported to Mister Evans.

“Ah, Potter,” Evans greeted him. “Back already?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you met our newest officer?”

“No, sir,” Will smiled. “Mister Trent said he is a Midshipman Ordinary, sir.”

“Yes, he is utterly useless and a nuisance,” Evans answered. “Went to the Naval Academy at Portsmouth instead of learning seamanship under a real captain and in a real ship. So, my lad, did you deliver my letter?”

“Yes, Sir. The commissioner was not in, Sir, but his secretary took the letter and signed the receipt.”

“Very good. That lighter with the pork barrels will arrive at two bells. Is everything ready in the hold?”

“Yes, Sir! I took Mister Brown and Mister Drummond to inspect everything, and nothing’s amiss.” Mister Brown held a carpenter’s warrant now, having replaced Mister Willis two years ago.

“A pity that! I could have used a long overhaul in an English port,” Evans remarked. “All right, you can issue today’s rations to the cook now.”

“Aye, aye, Sir,” Will answered smartly and left. MisterEvans was giving him more and more tasks and responsibilities, and so far, Will liked that just fine. In return, he had less duties to perform on deck and was excused from all hands manoeuvres. It was a comparably comfortable position he was holding. He was also given a tenth of the purser’s surplus, which he estimated at over £11, and as soon as the commissioner provided the monies, he would get a petty officer’s pay for the last year, £36 10s, or two shillings per day. That was infinitely more than what Master Warren had given him in all his apprenticeship, and he would be able to save almost all of it, since his living costs were covered whilst sailing in the Serpent.

He had also accompanied Mister Evans when the purser purchased the wares for the slop chest. After a year spent in the tropics, most crew member were in bad need of a new or newer kit, meaning trousers and shirts, whilst the warm jackets and shoes had seen little use and would last for another journey easily. Still, they found a shop where Mister Evans purchased a few used jackets and shoes for the inevitable losses and for possible new recruits.

Sailors’ knives, tobacco pipes, sewing kits and other items were also bought, but also tobacco for chewing and smoking and even a box of cigars. The list of items on which the crew was willing to spend their meagre pay was long, but the two men worked their way through the list that Mister Evans had used for years.

Sailing regularly to New South Wales and back, MisterEvans had discovered that many items he purchased for the slop chest were also in great demand in the colony. Therefore his purser’s locker held a far greater number of wares than was necessary for the needs of the crew. Evans and Will spent the next afternoons on the shore going through the stores of wholesalers, selecting merchandise and bargaining. Evans even allowed Will to invest in these wares with his own savings, making him in effect a junior partner of the purser. Will had already learned a lot during their stay in Plymouth harbour and, having a vested interest, he was willing to do a lot of the legwork involved.

Another point of concern were foods and drink for the wardroom. Mister Evans, who knew the wardroom members — 1st lieutenant, sailing master, surgeon and purser — intimately after over five years, used his knowledge of their preferences to stock up the wardroom pantry with the help of the steward, Mackeray.

Meanwhile, the prisoner transports had fitted out, too. Those ships were not Navy vessels, but privately owned, and their masters did their own provisioning. Nevertheless, Mister Evans made a profit from them, striking deals for them against a provision. He also received kick backs from the wholesalers for bringing business to them. Will was amazed at the multitude of ways to earn a pound here and a shilling there for a crafty purser. Still, he had to acknowledge that Mister Evans kept the crew in decent food. He was meticulous in inspecting provisions, and he seemed to know most of the tricks used by the victualling yard to slip rotten foods to unsuspecting ships.

There was a myriad of things to do for purser and steward whilst in harbour, far more than when they were under way, and Will rarely had a chance to venture ashore.

“Just as well,” Mister Evans had grumbled. “You want to be a purser one day, you must save up for the surety, my lad.”

Will already knew that a purser in the Royal Navy had to post a substantial surety with the Victualling Board, and he also knew that there was no way for him to save up such a sum from the pay of £36 per year he was drawing as a purser’s steward. Whilst Mister Evans’s surety as purser of the puny Serpent was only £800, the purser of a first-rate had to post £2,000. He already had more than £65 to show for the first three years serving in Serpent, but he would have liked to sample the pleasures found in the taverns around the harbour with a small portion of that.

Wonder over wonders, however, the day came when they were stocked and provisioned, and with Mister Evans grumbling, the 1st lieutenant gave Will a three-day pass for shore leave. Questioning his ship mates, Will knew which places to avoid ashore. He also left most of his savings in Mister Evans’s strong box, only taking along £ 2 in small coin. Following the advice from his seasoned shipmates, he then wandered towards a place known as Pelham’s Tea House which did not serve teas at all but was a friendly middle-class house of convenience.

His new clothes and shoes obviously passed inspection by the doorman, and with his breath held, young Will entered the establishment. Inside, he found a number of small, round tables with dainty chairs, obviously the tea room furnishings. Only one table was free, and Will sat down carefully on one of the chairs. A moment later, a pretty wench approached his table. Will knew that his eyes were wide as he regarded her. She was tall and slender, with dark blonde hair, a pretty face, and a smallish bosom that nevertheless threatened to spill out of the tight bodice she was wearing for a top.

“Good evening, Gov’nor,” she smiled. “What’ll you have?”

Gathering his courage, Will smiled back. “You,” he said.

The young woman laughed brightly. “Oh, my! A cocky young sailor! I meant, what would you want to drink?”

“Oh,” Will uttered, blushing. Obviously, the wench served drinks only. “I’m sorry. Ale?”

“Ale it is!” the wench winked and patted his shoulder. “We’ll see ‘bout that other thing. You want some company? What’s your name, sailor?”

“P-potter, Will Potter, purser’s steward. And yes, I’d very much like some company.”

“Well then, Will, I’ll be back with your ale right away.”

Indeed, she returned to his table in short time with a mug of ale. She placed it in front of him and sat down on the other side of the table.

“This your first time in this sort of tea house?” she asked.

“First time for any tea house,” Will answered. “I haven’t been ashore much in the last three years.”

“Are you with the Channel Fleet?” the girl asked.

“No, we escort the prisoner transports to New South Wales. Takes about a year, back and forth, with no tea houses on the way.”

The girl made a face. “Prisoner transports, huh? That’s a sad business.”

“It can be. I mean, we’re not transporting them, only escorting the convoy, making sure the Frogs or the pirates don’t get ‘em. What’s your name?”

“Lydia, and that’s my real name. So you haven’t done much with girls?”

“I had a sweetheart in Shaldon. I was apprenticed to a ship chandler, and she is an innkeeper’s daughter. Some rich guy was feeling her up, and I broke his nose for him. She ... she didn’t back me up. She said she wanted his ... attention? It was the cat o’nine tails for me or the Navy. You can guess what I took.”

The girl nodded sagely. “Maybe she had to serve the patrons? Many inns are like that.”

“I wouldn’t know that. I was never allowed to visit the inn. My master forbade it and the innkeeper wouldn’t have allowed me inside anyway. I was an apprentice merchant with no money.”

“And now you want to find out what it’s like to be with a girl?”

Will nodded earnestly. “The others on board brag about it all the time. They say it’s the best thing in the world.”

“It can be, but for the girl it can be bad if the man is too rough. You said you beat up a man and busted his nose. Are you a rough man?”

Will shrugged. “I’ve had scuffles with other boys and with men, but I’ve never hit a girl.”

Lydia nodded. “You also savvy that I’ll not be your sweetheart, right? No getting jealous, right? This is my trade. You can be my first man today, but you won’t be my last. It’ll cost you a half crown for me and a shilling for the landlord. That’ll get you a half hour with me. An hour is an even crown.”

Will nodded. “How much for spending the night? The others told me it’s nice to cuddle and sleep together and I should try that.”

“Did they? Well, for two crowns, I’m yours for the night, sailor.”

Will swallowed. This was five days’ pay. Yet, when would he get the next chance to bed a girl, let alone one as pretty as Lydia? He looked into her eyes and nodded.

“Two crowns it is then. How ... I mean, should I give you the money?”

Lydia smiled. “You’ve really never done this before. You pay the landlord, Will. Then we’ll go up to my room. I’ll get my share of the money after you’ve left. It’s safer for me if there’s no money in my room.”

“Rough men, huh?” Will asked, understanding the concept.

Lydia nodded. “You want to go upstairs right away?”

Will was undecided. “Can we get something to eat later?”

Lydia shook her head. “Sorry, there’s no kitchen. You want to eat first?”

“I thought that maybe ... you know? ... we could have a supper someplace. You must be hungry too.”

“You don’t have to do this, Will.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Will smiled. “I just thought we might have supper and talk some.”

“If that’s what you want, I shan’t say no,” Lydia laughed.

They went to have supper in a nearby inn after notifying the landlord. Lydia was fun and treated him like a sweetheart all the time. Being with her and talking to her indeed took away much of the insecurity Will had felt, and when they returned to the tea house, they went directly upstairs to Lydia’s room where Will received a friendly introduction into the pleasures of the flesh. Each bout of lovemaking lasted longer, with Will learning how to hold back, and they were completely worn out by the time they fell asleep, a little after midnight. Still, Will was up and ready again in the morning for one last romp with the pretty Lydia.

After a hearty breakfast in the neighbourhood inn, Will bid farewell to his one-night sweetheart and returned straight to the Serpent, falling into his cot and sleeping until the next morning.

Finally, the ships of the convoy were ready, and once again, Will watched boat load after boat load of wretched prisoners being shipped to the transports. Having stood before the assizes himself, he felt pity for them. Those convicted to transportation were not hardened thugs or murderers. They were more likely poor people, sometimes convicted for stealing a single loaf of bread.

Two days later, the ships of the convoy weighed anchor. Serpent had received five new hands, landsmen, as replacement for the losses that had been incurred due to falls and fevers, Generally, the crew was healthy and hardened, but the work aloft was fraught with dangers, and even stowing water casks sometimes led to injuries. In his three years in the Serpent, Will had witnessed eight burials, and the surgeon, Mister McSwain, had treated countless injuries, twice resorting to the amputation of a badly mangled arm or leg. Now the new men, still unsure of their tasks and roles, were placed at the capstan, together with the deck hands and the idlers, bending their backs against the capstan bars until the anchor broke free, whilst the top men loosened the sails. It was exciting and scary at the same time to embark on yet another journey around the world.

One of the changes that had come to Will was his new accommodations. He no longer slung his hammock with the stewards but shared another tiny cabin on the orlop deck with the captain’s clerk and coxswain. This meant that he would not sleep in the lower tier anymore as the three men could berth side by side. There was even a small desk for Will and the secretary to share. More importantly, all three had rather regular working hours, unlike the stewards who worked until the last of the officers turned in. The captain’s coxswain, Jerry Hall, in particular had an easy life, with the captain’s gig not used in weeks and months whilst they were en route. He helped out in the captain’s cabin and saw to the readiness of all the ship’s boats, but he was far from being overworked. At fifty-two, he was also the oldest crew member, with over forty of those years spent as a sailor. He had an entertaining yarn to spin, and Will learned many things from him. The clerk, Mister Edwards, had been a vicar in training when he was caught with the priest’s wife and had to find a different vocation. Under his tutelage, Will improved his penmanship but also his language, for as randy as Edwards was, he was a learned man nonetheless. He, too, had many stories to tell, but none of them dealt with seamanship.

As the small convoy was beating against the western wind, word filtered down from the captain’s cabin and the wardroom that Serpent had an additional task to perform, namely to call on the port of Funchal on Madeira to deliver mail to the British representative there. This was confirmed to Will by Mister Evans who had to change his own plans. They would be able to take water at Funchal, but also to buy provisions, allowing them to proceed to Simon’s Town without stopping at St. Helena. It also presented an opportunity for the crafty purser to stock up on Madeira wines, both for the wardroom and for sale in New South Wales. Hence, Will received orders to rearrange provisions to make room in the hold for the precious wine casks. This kept Will rather busy for days, as the small ship was crammed with provisions already, but with the help of carpenter and cooper, he was able to squeeze some water casks into other spaces and load other goods on top of them. In return for his effort, Mister Evans allowed Will to be a partner in this endeavour. Carpenter and cooper each got rewarded from the slop chest. Will suspected that the captain was also part of the scheme, since nobody raised any questions.

They spent five days at Funchal, victualling the ships and taking fresh water. Will spent much time in Serpent’s hold, stowing supplies, brandy, wine and water casks, but also dried wine berries for the slop chest. He and Mister Evans also negotiated the victualling of the transports against a three-point interest. The master-owners of the transports availed themselves of that service for even with the purser’s interest, they paid less than if they were bargaining by themselves. As always, Will received a tenth of those takings, which he invested in his share of the merchandise they were shipping.

Will also had two evenings of shore leave. He, surgeon’s mate O’Leary, and the gunner, Mister Whales, acquainted themselves with Madeira wines in the taverns lining the harbour. They even found a small whorehouse in a dark side alley. It was nothing like his night at Pelham’s Tea House in Plymouth. It was a hurried rutting on a dingy cot in a backroom, and he never even learned the name of the wench. He relieved his needs, and that was it.

On their second night, whilst on their way to the brothel again, they bumped into Horace Trent, and without much ado, they took him along. Poor, shy Horace Trent received his introduction into the ways of the flesh that night, but he surprised his shipmates by his decent command of Portuguese. Stammering he was as always, but he negotiated better rooms and prettier girls for them all. Once they were finished, they spent another hour in the common room with the girls, and Trent taught them some rudiments of the language with which to compliment the giggling wenches. Will decided that he liked his second evening in the taverns of Funchal better than the previous one, and the three seasoned sailors paid for Trent’s tab to show their appreciation. The young man thawed considerably, and they learned a bit about him on the way back to the ship.

Like Will, Horace Trent was an orphan. His father had been a solicitor in Tavistock, but when Horace had been twelve, both his parents died of the smallpox. He and his younger sister Abigail then moved in with his uncle, a cloth merchant of Tavistock, who took care of the children, although not well off himself. Young Horace was sent to the Royal Navy Academy, nevertheless, whilst Abigail remained with her uncle as an unpaid housekeeper. Horace wanted nothing more than to make his way in the Navy, win prize monies, and then care for his sister. That was quite an optimistic plan, Will thought, as Horace Trent was easily four to five years away from earning an officer’s commission, but he could certainly sympathise with the young lad’s plight. The story also accounted for the shabby sea chest and ill-fitting coats.

From that evening on, a tentative friendship developed between Will and the young midshipman, within the boundaries of their respective stations on board the sloop. Once the small convoy weighed anchor two days later, for the 3,000-mile journey to the Cape of Good Hope, they could often be found sitting together during grog hour.

They had a rough rounding of the Cape, and everybody was happy to drop anchor at Simon Town, for fresh water and a few precious days of rest. Of course, for Will, the stay meant a lot of work, but he saw this as a price to pay for the rather easy life he had whilst the ship was underway.

Weighing anchor again, they set out on the last leg of their journey to Sydney. The winds were not favouring them, and the journey took over four months. During the last two months, they had to shorten the water rations, first to three quarters, and during the final approach, to half rations. That was extreme hardship for everybody involved since the sun was beating down on them mercilessly. Will kept a vigil at the water casks down in the hold to prevent the crew from stealing water, and Mister Evans made a show of doling out water out on the deck for everybody to see. There could be no doubt that officers, warrant officers and crew received the same meagre four pints of greenish slime, to which the water had deteriorated during the long passage. They could only imagine how much the prisoners had to suffer in the transports, and burials became an almost daily occurrence.