He looked each sailor up and down and asked a question or two. He kept a running track of how many Englishmen he had chosen, as well as how many other nationalities he had sent to stand with the chosen men. He wanted a thoroughly mixed crew. Better that they fought one another rather than unite to fight his authority. When foreign sailors stepped up, the captain confirmed that each had a rudimentary grasp of English. When he had chosen twenty, he nodded to the shipping master.
The shipping master cleared his throat and began reading the preamble to the Articles of Agreement, then moved on to specific terms and conditions, wages and allotments. Captain Barker walked over and stood next to the master, scanning the chosen sailors with a calculating eye. When the shipping master stopped and put down the agreement, it was the captain's turn to speak.
“Men, I am Captain James Barker. We are embarking on a long voyage by way of Cape Horn. By the looks of you, many here are Cape Horn snorters, so there is no reason that we shouldn't have a happy crowd. All I expect is that you jump to with a will at my orders. Beyond that, it's one hand for the owner and one hand for yourself. All right now, line up over here, one at a time." The captain took a chair beside the shipping master at the table.
The first up was a large man with dark hair that hung across one eye. He had a crooked grin, which he tried to suppress for the serious business of signing articles.
The captain looked up. "Name, age, and nationality.”
“I'm, Harry, sir. From Cornwall. I think I'm around thirty.”
“Your last name, Harry?
“Yes, sir," the sailor replied.
“Your last name," the captain repeated.
“Yes, sir. My last name is Harhy. I'm G.H. Hahry. That's H-A-H-R-Y. But everyone just calls me Harry.”
“Well, I imagine that they would," the captain replied, raising an eyebrow. He handed Harry the pen. Harry bent down and with great care drew an anchor for his signature. With a self-satisfied grin, he turned, nearly knocking over the man behind him. The sailors took no offense as Harry careened back through the line.
Rolf Jensen, next in line, was a red-faced Dane with a tattoo of a naked woman on his right arm and a ship in the grasp of a giant squid on his left. He grabbed the pen as if it was a marlinspike and left a blotched X as his mark. Behind him came Tony-the-Chileano, Jerry-the-Greek, and Gabriel Isaacson.
Hmmn, the captain thought as Isaacson signed. He had never known a sea-going Jew. Lots of bumboat traders but never a deep-sea sailor. Well, there was Noah, he thought. Isaacson looked fit enough.
The usual assortment of Finns, Norwegians, a Frenchman and a few Liverpool hard cases followed behind.
A young sailor, strongly built with dark hair, added his name among the various Xs and illegible scrawls. In a clear and graceful hand he wrote, Frederick Anthony Smythe. The captain looked down at the signature, and then back at the young sailor. "You look like you've had some education, young man.”
“Yes, sir,”
“Where did you go to school, pray tell?”
“A year at Yale, sir.”
The captain cocked his head. "I've heard of it. Good school. And an American to boot.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You sail as ordinary?”
“No, sir," Fred replied adamantly. "Able, sir. Discharge papers to prove it, too, sir.”
The captain waved them away. "Very well. Able, it is. Next.”
When he had twenty signatures or marks on the articles, the captain stood up. In his best quarterdeck voice, he bellowed, "Crew of the Lady Rebecca, you are expected to be aboard tomorrow at seven, breakfast at eight and turn to at eight forty-five, ready for duty.”
He turned to the shipping master. "Their month's advance can be drawn on the account of Merrick Shute. I'll send my officers and warrants to sign articles later this afternoon." They shook hands and the captain folded his copy of the articles, put them in his jacket pocket and left the shipping office. There was much to be done before tomorrow. Overall, he was pleased with the crowd he had signed on, though only time and sea miles would tell him what sort of crew they really were.
Mary Barker smiled, watching her six-year-old daughter, Amanda, bouncing with excitement as she looked out the train window as the Welsh countryside rolled by. The lush green of farmland had now given way to coal mines and factories. Amanda's two-year-old brother, Tommy, was slumped against the seat, sleeping soundly. Amanda was too excited to sleep. She had done nothing but talk about going to sea on Daddy's ship for weeks and now they were on their way.
Mary wished she shared her daughter's enthusiasm. She had been on three voyages before but had never taken to the sea. A ship captain's daughter, sister to a sailor and now a ship captain's wife, she would have liked nothing more than to live in Chester on the River Dee, in a small cottage with her children, waiting for her husband to come home. She hated leaving her mother, with whom she was very close. Her mother was not a young woman and Mary wondered darkly if they would ever see each other again.
But James had his heart set on sailing with his family. This was an important voyage for him and for them as well. So if James asked that they go, she knew her duty. Whither thou goest...
She looked at herself in her pocket mirror. She had just turned thirty but feared that she looked older. The sea aged everyone but was crueler to women than men. She put the mirror back in her handbag and tried to think no more of it.
When James met them at the Cardiff train station, Mary smiled as Amanda and Tommy shrieked and leapt to greet their father. He stooped down to grab them both as they charged at him, laughing. His stance was wide, as if he was on the quarterdeck on his ship, braced against a rolling sea. He scooped them up and spun around as they screamed with joy.
A carriage was waiting for them. "I've booked rooms in the Angel Hotel until the cargo is finished loading and your quarters are ready." Mary took James' hand as he helped her into the carriage. The children clambered aboard and they were off to the hotel.
As the carriage clattered along, the captain looked at Mary with concern. She looked tired and somewhat sad. Perhaps she was just weary from the travel by train. Mary was still so pretty, with dark eyes and her hair pulled back in a bun. She had obviously dressed to please him, wearing a new blue dress, not too fancy and quite suitable for travel, but better than day-to-day wear. He began to worry that she was unhappy already and they had not even made it aboard the ship. Nevertheless, he was excited to get under way and would not let feminine fears interfere. All would be well, once the ship sailed.
“We have a new cabin steward. A man named Walter. He comes with good references, so I hope that he will be able to make you and the children quite comfortable. I have also ordered livestock, so that we may have eggs and milk.”
Her eyes brightened. "We shall have a cow?”
“Sorry, my love. Cows don't do well aboard ship. We will have goats, as well as chickens." She smiled but he could see the disappointment in her eyes.
“There is one matter that I must discuss with you, however, before you go aboard. You know that I am most pleased to have your brother Thomas sailing with us as second mate. He is a fine young man and a good officer from all that I can tell. Aboard the Lady Rebecca, nevertheless, we must maintain discipline. When the voyage is done, we will again be Thomas and James, but until then he is Mr. Atkinson and he will address me as Captain Barker. I do not wish for you to think that I am being brusque with him. That is just how it must be. When he has free time off-watch, he does have my permission to visit with you and the children, but his first duty is to the ship and her crew. As is mine.”
Mary smiled broadly. "I may be no sailor, dearest, but I understand well enough." She glanced out the carriage window and then turned back toward him and with a grin. "Do you know what I have taken to calling the Lady Rebecca? Your other wife. I am not sure what her owner would think of that. Merrick Shute did name his ship after his daughter, did he not?”