CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

Come home with me and refresh thyself.

(1 Kings 13:7)

 

“Oh, no-o-o-o!” said Agnes, covering her eyes and backing away. “I’m not getting on that thing. Why, it’s huge!”

Being the daughter-in-law of a ship-owner, I had quickly learned to judge the tonnage and holding capacity of ships. Becoming familiar with shipping terms, catch-phrases and the slang related to sailing was a necessary part of life. In actuality, the Confidence wasn’t as large as two of Sir Thomas’ ships. She appeared to weigh in at about 240 tons. The main mast towered 45 feet above the upper deck, with a 24-foot topmast above the cross-trees, topped by a 14-foot staff for the required Union flag with its combined crosses of Saint George and Saint Andrew. The main yard was 50 feet long, supporting the square mainsail, or “main course” (as the sailors called it), with its 45-foot head and 20-foot leach. A nine-foot bonnet was laced onto the foot of the mainsail in moderate weather, which was easily removed when the wind breezed up.

We had rounded the corner from the inn and stood facing the Confidence, riding at low tide, tied up at the West Quay. A great throng of people crowded the dock around us.

“What?” I said, jerking my head toward her in surprise. “You’ve seen ships up close before, Agnes. Why are you so afraid?”

“I’ve never been faced with boarding one before. Sarah, I can’t swim. What’ll I do if it should sink?”

“Miss Agnes,” Red said, stepping forward and taking her elbow. “If that ship sinks, I dare say we’ll all drown. No matter how good a swimmer ye are, ye can only tread water for so long before yer strength gives out.”

“Thank you, Red, for that great word of encouragement,” I said sarcastically, looking sharply at the Scotsman beside me.

“Sorry, Miss Sarah, but tis the truth.”

“Well, I don’t care what any of you say, I’m not getting on that thing.” Agnes was adamant, crossing her arms and stamping the planking of the dock with her foot.

“And just how do you propose to get to America, Aunt Agnes?” Arthur asked. “Uncle William will surely miss you, if you don’t come with us.”

“Well….um….I hadn’t thought of that. I really don’t know.”

Jeremy nodded to one side. “Can I speak with you, Mrs. Keeney? Over there?” I followed Jeremy over to a stack of barrels.

“What it is, Jeremy?”

“Well, the way I see it, there’s only one way to get Miss Agnes on that ship.”

“And how is that?”

“I’ll have to knock her out.”

“Knock her out? Are you daft?”

“I didn’t mean I’d hit her, ma’am. I meant I’ll get her some strong rum at that tavern over there that’ll have her sleeping in no time.”

“I don’t think Agnes would willingly take any of that, Jeremy. But you’ve given me an idea. Let’s go into the tavern and order some ale. You go to the tender and before coming back to the table, slip the contents of this packet into her mug. This will take care of our little problem.” I took a small packet of herbs from the pocket of my skirt and handed it to Jeremy. Remembering that Arthur suffered from the same bouts of seasickness as his father, I’d prepared a concoction to help him sleep during the sailing. A small amount should do the trick.

“You’re a smart woman, Mrs. Keeney.” He grinned broadly showing even white teeth.

Within a few minutes and many strange glances from people around us, Red was carrying a sleeping Agnes aboard the Confidence. All the passengers waiting to board were herded into a tight-knit group. We were greeted by the chief officer, who introduced himself as Mark Clark. He collected the payment of 5 pounds per person and saw to the stowing of our provisions and belongings. Jeremy and Red had sold the three horses and the wagon the day before. The proceeds from Red’s draft horses provided his and Jeremy’s passage and provisions. The money from Goliath and the wagon was sewn into the hem of my best gown.

The lower hold below the gun-deck was allotted for the heaviest goods and some of the ship’s stores. The ‘tween-decks’ was given over to the lighter freight, including provisions for the voyage. I knew from experience that the forecastle, steerage and the poop house were quarters for the crew and officers, with the cook’s galley located in the port side of the forecastle. The petty officers and their gear fit nicely into the steerage. The quarters of the captain and chief officer were in the poop house.

Mr. Clark saw to the distribution of the passengers into their various accommodations. I was somewhat alarmed when told that we would be split up. I had hoped that we could all be lodged together. Some of the quarters were located in the rear half of the poop house, and here, with three tiers of double bunks on the starboard side, three on the port side, and three across the after end, eighteen adult persons could be housed comfortably, leaving the forward end of the poop house clear for the officers, so they might have ready access to the open deck.

Married couples, unmarried young women and little ones too small to be allowed far from their parents, were accommodated in the quarters aft, which afforded more privacy, what little there was to be had. Agnes and I, along with Lizzie, Mary and the smaller children were to be accommodated here, which had two lengths of double bunks three tiers deep on each side, a tier across the forward end and another across the after end. This area furnished quarters for 36, leaving room for us to stir around a bit.

The married men whose wives had not come along, the young unmarried men and the larger boys, were segregated in a bunch by themselves in the ‘tween-decks. Here, Arthur would sleep with Jeremy and Red to watch over him. They would have good light and ventilation from the grated hatch overhead. Some unmarried girls traveling alone and perhaps one or two of the larger children were put in the half of the poop house, with three of the married couples with them as chaperones.

After some time to settle in, all the passengers were called upon deck. We were met by a group of about 25 crewmen, who appeared to be a pretty tough lot, no green horns. In addition, there were about sixteen or seventeen officers, standing at attention, and, of course, the captain. When we had all gathered, the captain waved his hand to silence the group. He was a tall man, with slick hair the color of honey. He appeared well-groomed and self-assured.

“Good morning,” he began, “my name is Master John Jabson, and I am the captain of the Confidence. I have been master of ships for 15 years. I own one-quarter of this vessel, which gives me incentive to carry out my voyages successfully. I have gained my position as much by stark physical superiority as by mental ability and I hold it by the same token. I brook no insubordination from my crew or my passengers. “You’ve already met my Chief Officer, Mark Clark. The man on my right is First Mate, Henry Tibbets. The rest of these men are the crew, who will endeavor to bring you safely to America.”

At the mention of Henry Tibbets’ name, Jeremy got a startled look of recognition on his face and stood on tip-toe to see better over the crowd. Apparently, I thought, Jeremy is either related or acquainted with this other Mr. Tibbets.

“Our voyage will take approximately 68 days, barring any storms or mishaps, a distance of about 3,000 miles. In order to insure safe sailing, we have certain rules, which must be abided by everyone aboard.

“First, no one, and I mean no one, is permitted to come topside without permission from myself or Mr. Clark. Children must remain with their parents or guardians at all times and are not allowed to run amuck.

“Second, passengers will be permitted some time topside, but only in small groups. Meals will be taken in the main room in shifts. You will be given your schedule later. Please adhere to this.

“Third, Sunday services are allowed on the main deck after breakfast.

“Fourth, any sickness must be reported to me or Mr. Clark immediately so it can be handled forthwith.

“Finally, any deviation from these rules, stealing, general unruliness, noncompliance, or outright rebellion will be dealt with by myself, and I am not a forgiving man. Have a pleasant voyage.” With that, he tipped his hat, turned on his heel and went below.

Suddenly, the man the captain had designated as Henry Tibbets appeared beside us grandly thumping Jeremy on the back.

“Well, cousin,” he said, “I certainly didn’t expect to see you sailing to America. In fact, I haven’t seen you for a very long time. Where have you been keeping yourself?”

“Later, cousin,” Jeremy replied. “I’ll explain everything later.”

Jeremy introduced us around and Henry proceeded to tell us a little about Captain Jabson. “He’s an able sailor and a kind man, no matter how gruff his manner. I came aboard a year ago and sailed with the Confidence into the Baltic when screaming northers drove frozen spindrift like shot against her sides, and only her staunchness brought us through. We’ve weathered many a Biscay gale running cargo up from the southern wine ports. She’s as sound as a nut below the waterline. The Confidence and Master Jabson’ll get us to America.”

After a few more pleasantries, Henry left us to attend to his duties and we split up to our various accommodations. Agnes still slept, both from the herbs and exhaustion, and I hoped she would slumber until we were well away from land. Henry Tibbets said we’d sail on the morning tide.

Night fell aboard the Confidence. Peeking through the small starboard window, I saw that the moon had come up and the stars were sparkling in the darkness. Thankfully, Agnes slept on. I settled down into my own bunk tucking in little Elizabeth beside me. Around us the sounds of the other passengers settling into their own beds soon quieted, and before I knew it, I was awaking to the sounds of the crew preparing to sail.

“All hands ready to set sail.”

“Courses in their gear.”

“Heave on the mizzen halyard.”

“Stand by to loosen the fore course sheets.”

The going was slow at first, but at last, with a small gale from the east-northeast, the Confidence left Southampton and cleared Plymouth, on Thursday, April 26, 1638. Then she romped out by Land’s End for the open sea. Sinking Old England over the starboard quarter for the last time, with fair winds and weather, she stood boldly to the westward. Thank the Lord it was spring, for in autumn, line gales came roaring up the North Atlantic, bringing with it brought fierce storms that could sink a ship in a New York minute.

We had all been allowed topside and the rails were lined with passengers, crowding together, all vying for a last look at land. We would not see it again for many weeks. Agnes, awake and yet fearful, clung white-knuckled to my sleeve. Lizzie, Mary and the children were laughing with excitement for the adventure ahead.

With tears in my eyes, I faced into the wind and bid England adieu, happy at last to be going home to the land of my birth, and more importantly to a reunion with the love of my life.