Chapter 4: Mister Potter

Plymouth, May 1800

With the ship safely at anchor and not likely to sail any time soon, Will’s first task was to visit the solicitor, Mister Cromwell, together with Samuel McSwain, the surgeon. The solicitor made time for them on short notice, and he confirmed their inheritances once they produced a copy of Captain Brooke’s report of Mister Evan’s death by illness — a copy written by Will in his capacity as captain’s clerk when all was told. Cromwell also provided Will with a list of assets that now belonged to him, together with a small reckoning for his own efforts.

Armed with the documents, the two wardroom mates set out to find their properties. Whilst McSwain introduced himself to the tenant in his house, Will had the sad task to inform Evans’s housekeeper, Jane Brewer, of her master’s passing. He also told her to visit Mister Cromwell to receive her bequest from Mister Evans.

The good woman was saddened, but also worried, until Will assured her that he would keep her in his service. He would take Evans’s old, ground floor bedchamber for his own use, and together, he and Brewer inspected the well appointed room. It was all clean and ship shape, but there were a number of personal items of Mister Evans which they packed into a small chest and moved to a storage chamber under the roof.

Going next door, Will invited Mister McSwain, and soon they enjoyed a quickly assembled meal. Will found out that Brewer knew McSwain from earlier visits, him and Mister Evans having been long time friends, and some of the things about which they talked went over his head. They also advised him to defer his visit to the Victualling Board commissioner for a day or two and to talk to his boarders first, so that they could grease the skids for him. That, Will found to be sound advice.

After the meal, both men returned to Serpent to tend to their duties. Together with his helper, Will sorted through the remaining provisions, determining which of them had to be used up first. They had enough leftovers to last almost two months, mostly due to their rapid passage around the Horn. Will also controlled his slop chest and his private trading goods and found them sufficient for the time being.

With the ship in port, several crew members also needed access to their monies which to keep safe in his lockbox was part of Will’s purser duties, against a small fee, of course. This was doubly profitable for him, since the men spent some of those monies on items from the slop chest, such as clothes, scarves and even the last pair of shoes in his stores. Still, the second dogwatch saw him on his way back to his house, for dinner and for meeting his boarders.

Brewer had prepared a small roast at Will’s behest, and Will had brought along two bottles of Brazilian wine from their visit to Rio de Janeiro. Indeed, pacified by the good food and the ruby-red wine, Balder and Jenkins, the victualling board clerks, gave him sage advice about how to approach their superior, the mighty Commissioner Mister Davenport, for attaining a coveted purser’s warrant. Jenkins even volunteered to go over Will’s books before he turned them in for the audit, to avoid any errors. Of course, they were pleased over Will’s assertion that he planned to keep the house running as before, assuring them of their continued comfort.

Will did not sleep ashore as he was still an acting warrant officer in a commissioned sloop, but rather returned to ship and wardroom, and to his tiny cabin. He learned that a dockyard official would come in the next morning to inspect Serpent’s hull, but also the carpenter’s records and reports. This meant work for Will, his helper, but also for a strong work party, as they had to move the remaining provisions to give the shipwright unfettered access to the hull, something they would start a four bells in the morning watch.

Will never learned the name of the shipwright, but word of his verdict filtered down into the wardroom before the grog hour: Serpent would be laid up, her officers put on halfpay, and her crew transferred to receiving ships. She might then undergo a lengthy revision, starting with her hull. She would even have her keelson and her lower mainmast replaced whilst docked. All these projected expenses might also mean that the old sloop would be sent to the breakers.

Only the standing officers, sailing master, purser, gunner, carpenter, boatswain and some mates would stay with the ship during the revision. The commissioned officers and most warrant officers would be gone, likely transferring to newly commissioning ships. For Will, this meant that his chances of obtaining a purser’s warrant were suddenly increasing since no other candidates would apply for a small sloop months away from recommissioning if at all. There would be too much work and not enough opportunities to supplement the regular pay. He decided to discuss this news with his helpful boarders.

Samuel McSwain, the surgeon, immediately decided to end his seafaring days. At almost fifty years and used to the informal atmosphere of Serpent’s wardroom, he had no desire to join another ship, and rather decided to follow Mister Evans’s suggestion and open a practice in his newly inherited house.

On the other hand, Mister Barker, the first lieutenant, with over eight years in rank, could rightly expect a first lieutenancy in a bigger sloop or even a frigate. Alternatively, he could be a senior officer in a line-of-battle ship. Either option would bring him chances for promotion.

However things would work out, HMS Serpent’s officers were facing imminent changes.

Over the next days, the crew was busy stripping Serpent of anything removable. The entire top hamper of the ship was stricken and stored on the shore. The weathern-worn sails were also brought ashore and would be scrapped if the sailmaker was to be believed, or sold off to some stingy private ship owner. Next came the stores, gunpowder and shot first, followed by their ordnance, six-pounders and carronades.

The purser’s stores which were transferred to the victualling yard against receipts. The water casks were emptied and disassembled for storage, something that also fell under Will’s responsibility, as the cooper was under his command. Lastly, hammocks were collected, and the ratings were transferred to a hulk, waiting for their next ship.

With all this done, Will finally got his interview with Mister Davenport. He had turned in his books for an audit, and he had provided the commissioner’s office with a letter from Mister Cromwell, establishing Will as the heir of James Evan’s surety. He was wearing a new blue coat, white breeches, shoes with pinch buckles and a bicorne hat when he entered the commissioner’s office at the victualling yard.

Mister Davenport was a gentleman, more so than any of Serpent’s officers, wearing a powdered whig, a silk cravat and frilled shirt under a bottle green, costly coat. He also acted like a gentleman, ignoring Will for at least five minutes. Luckily, Jenkins had briefed Will on what to expect, and he stood quietly and waited for the fob to acknowledge him. Finally, Mister Davenport decided that he had established his superiority and looked up.

“Mister Potter, if I recall correctly?”

“Yes, Sir. William Potter, acting purser, HMS Serpent, Sir.”

Mister Davenport held a fashionable lorgnette before his eyes and looked at a report.

“Ten years old, sixteen guns, complement of ninety-eight,” he mumbled. “She’s slated for a rebuild?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You replaced the late Mister Evans after his demise?”

“Yes, Sir. I was serving as captain’s clerk, but the previous four years, I was the purser’s steward under Mister Evans.”

“I see. Mister Jenkins, one of my senior clerks, inspected your books. Good work, good work. Mister Evans made you inherit his surety, too. We can just transfer it to your name. There’s not much of a chance to find a purser for a ship that’ll go up the skids. You want the Serpent, Mister Potter?”

“Yes, Sir. The repairs’ll give me time to further learn the trade, Sir.”

“You’re a volunteer, too. Ship chandler’s apprentice before. Sounds quite acceptable. Very well, Mister Potter. Stay with Serpent. I shall have your warrant made out and signed within a week.”

Will exhaled deeply before he answered. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Another thing, Mister Potter. One of my clerks had to quit, leaving us shorthanded. Mister Jenkins suggested that you might like to help us out here? You can make up for the loss of income whilst your ship is on the skids and learn about what’s behind our work. How would you like that?”

That surprised Will, but he saw the chances, too. He might even find a permanent place in the victualling yards at some point in the future.

“I’d like that very much, Sir.”

“Well then, find Mister Jenkins and talk to him. He’ll effect the transfer of your surety, too. Have a good day, Mister Potter!”

“Thank you, Sir, the same to you, Sir!” Will blurted, already retreating towards the door.

Outside, he balled his fists in triumph. He was now irrevocably Mister Potter and a wardroom member in any ship in which he might serve. Depending on when Serpent would finally be sent to the breakers or sold, he would transfer to a bigger ship, increasing both his pay and his earning potential. This was quite a step for an orphan and former penniless merchant’s apprentice.

He found Mister Jenkins, his boarder and now his superior, in a room populated by five clerks, each of them sitting at a small writing desk and facing a larger desk behind which Mister Jenkins presided. His face lit up seeing Will.

“Why, good day, Mister Potter! Had you any luck in your quest?”

“Yes, Mister Jenkins. I’ll get my warrant in a week. Mister Davenport also asked me to help out here.”

“Quite so,” Jenkins smiled whilst the five lesser clerks looked up to inspect the new man. “Gentlemen, this is Mister William Potter, purser, HMS Serpent. Serpent’s laid up for a revision, and we asked Mister Potter to help us out for a few months. It’ll give us a chance to teach him how we expect those books to be kept.”

That caused a low chuckle around the room.

“When can you join us, Mister Potter?”

“A week and a half, Sir. Serpent won’t go up the skids before next week. I also need a few days to settle things here and in Shaldon.”

“In Tavistock, too, I expect,” Jenkins chuckled. At supper, three days prior, Will had confessed his interest in a certain young maiden.

“Yes, Sir, Tavistock foremost.”

As the small coaster approached Torquay, Will could see several men o’ war in the roads, likely detached from the Channel Fleet he surmised. Torquay had a wide open roads and offered shelter against western gales, but ships could not be trapped there by adverse winds. It was thus perfect a rendezvous point for the fleet blockading Brest, the largest French navy base, if they were driven off their stations on the French coast in a western gale.

The coaster was one of the innumerable small ships that ferried supplies from Plymouth and other ports to Torquay. For Will, it was a cheap and quick way to travel, as Shaldon lies only an hour’s walk to the North.

Arriving at Torquay as dusk fell, Will found a slightly upscale boarding house where he rented a small chamber for two nights. His landlady pointed him to a public house down the street where he had a supper, but also two pints of the local ale, and he slept well until being roused by his landlady.

The sun was up when he set out on foot on the road to Shaldon, but after a short walk, he was lucky when a journeyman carpenter heading in the same direction let him sit on his donkey cart for a tuppence. Thus, he arrived at Shaldon a little after two bells in the forenoon watch, where the craftsman dropped him off at the ferry landing, and he had no problems finding Master Warren’s shop near the waterfront.

Before he entered, he checked his own appearance and found no fault with it. The small bell over the door announced his entry, as he had heard untold times when he was working there, and a young lad of perhaps fourteen years appeared, taking in the blue coat, the bicorne hat, and the buckled shoes.

“Master Warren, a Navy gentleman!” he hollered towards the back.

“Don’t bleat around in my shop, you worthless chum!” Will heard his former master shout back, causing him to smile in reminiscence. Obviously, the good Master Warren had been enjoying a late breakfast in his private room in the back, for Will detected breadcrumbs on his apron, as he appeared through the side door.

“A very good morning, Sir,” Warren offered, not recognising his former helper. “How can I help you on this fine day?”

Will tilted his head and allowed himself a grin. “A good day to you, too, Master Warren! I am William Potter, purser, HMS Serpent and I used to be the worthless chum around this shop.”