IV. Top Gun
Expecting Sicklemore, Martin or even Newport, I was surprised when Gosnold appeared. Though his attire wasn't as gaudy, it was clearly well-made and tailored. I should have recognized he also came from means.
"Gos," Kendall raised his tankard. "Come join us."
"How's it coming along, men?"
"Perfectly fine."
He knew Kendall was hiding something. "You're playing cards, Kenny, are you not? I can't give you the satisfaction of playing without me."
"Why should I give you the satisfaction of making us all look like asses?"
"I see you're admitting to cowardice?"
"'Cowardice? I don't think you know whom you're speaking to." Kendall brought the deck back out.
I watched this man carefully. He sat and joked with the rest of them if he wasn't an authority figure. Yet he was in control as the men clearly respected him, and seemingly followed his lead. At one point, while he laughed, he met my gaze. I quickly resumed my own business of finishing my food.
Someone offered me what they call "chew"—that tarred leaf some men had chewed earlier. I didn't enjoy the taste at all, but hard tackle and gruel were not appetizing. What other choice did I have?
"Pardon me, is anyone else sitting here?" A slightly pudgy, redheaded Englishman asked me.
"What do you think, Lon?" A tall, slightly muscular, long black haired man, with a Scottish accent, responded. "Do you see anyone else there?" He sat himself down.
"I thought it more polite to ask first," Lon defended. He sat after I shook my head, confirming my answer.
"I'm Ben and this is Lon." The other man answered. "You must be new here."
"Smith." I nodded, spitting every so often. The chew certainly built up the spit in my mouth. I wasn't much of a conversationalist. Nevertheless I appreciated their company for the time being.
I couldn't gage how old they were, and I didn't feel polite asking. But I learned Ben, was from Glasgow, and Lon was a native Londoner, and met while Ben recently moved to London to become a sailor.
Someone from the gentry table cursed. "It appears Percy busted." Lon noted.
Ben spoke up. "I heard rumors from men on his brother, Henry the Earl's fleet, that young Percy has always been the sickly one in the family—poor fellow. Perhaps he felt he could compensate for his illness by getting his degree from Oxford he so proudly boasts of."
Why would a graduate from such a prestigious University, be here? I wondered. Having had to leave school early, I was in no such a position as he was, being far from wealthy.
As the game continued, the other seamen settled in, if they weren't working the evening shift. Ben and Lon followed suit in settling in; while I, spitting out the rest of the chew, stayed for the duration.
More curses came from the rest of the men, as they opted to "stand" one by one, not wanting to lose any more money than they already had.
"Next time... ." Kendall stood up. "I'd better chart the course," Kendall grumbled as he collected the cards.
"Indeed you should," Gosnold agreed. "Nothing personal, men," as he collected his money. "What can I say? Robert had taught me something of value—"
"Yes, Bart—Earl Devereux, you never fail to remind us," teased Archer, putting a hand on his shoulder, as they walked.
"My, Gabe, that was rather surly, coming from a fellow Cambridge graduate—"
"I heard they're both attorneys," Ben whispered to me.
"Awfully cocky of you to be boastful, of someone no longer favorable, even by our Queen—" Archer continued.
"I wasn't praising him, nor considering him a grand influence. After all, even when he was favored, his voyages weren't the reason...not that I would dare speak ill of the Virgin Queen." I smiled, knowing what he meant.
"God save the Queen; Long to reign over us!" They laughed. I found myself wanting to laugh with them, but not wanting to blow my cover, keeping my distance.
They chatted a bit more before Archer went off somewhere. He watched the sea, for a moment before drawing his sword, making graceful swooping movements in the air. He set up a few poles between two barrels, and chopped them in half with a slash. I watched in amazement as he mastered his sword.
I tried to step forward for a better view, but the plank beneath my feet gave away my presence. He looked over in my direction somewhat surprised.
"Smith?"
"Pardon me, Sir, but 'twas rather impressive," I tried to compliment. "Mind if I cut in?" I knew he was an officer, and of a higher authority, but he seemed more approachable than the others.
"You shouldn't be awake at this hour. Your shift starts at six-hundred hours." I didn't get the sense he was scolding, but rather that he was informing me.
"You're right, Sir. Disregard me asking. Good night." I wasn't going to argue with him. I hastily went towards the ladder leading below deck.
"Smith!" I turned around to see him motioning he was ready. "Draw," he added, nonchalantly.
As excited as I was, I was also somewhat nervous, not knowing what I had gotten myself into. It was only after a short period of time I realized how much trouble I was in. (I was always used to going in over my head, often acting first, and thinking later, but it wasn't until later on that I discovered how foolish that was.) After a few clashes he would have me pinned, knocking away my sword. The final time, he managed to grab my sword, holding both our swords at the same time. I really was an amateur.
"I think 'tis high time I settled in for the night." I felt completely embarrassed, although I didn't want to openly admit it. I was certain I made a fool of myself, thinking I could challenge an experienced swordsman.
"Good night, Smith." I could see he was amused by the whole thing. I wasn't so much, though I was surprised and appreciative he at least humored me, giving me the impression I stood a chance, when in hindsight, I did not.
The gruel which splattered into my dish the next morning, was less than appetizing. It was times such as these I missed mum's English breakfast with eggs, crumpets, English bacon, milk, and other vittles. Unfortunately, "chow" would have to suffice. Perhaps dipping the hard-tackle into the gruel would soften it, actually making it edible.
I later walked past the gentry table during breakfast. The same men usually hung out together, to drink, arm wrestle or chat. While Gosnold would join, he didn't exclusively associate with them. Not at all surprising as I'd eventually find he was often following up with the other officers if he wasn't fellowshipping with the other sailors; though occasionally I also found him doing routine stretches, or forlornly watching the serenity of the ocean.
Today, the men were arm wrestling. Kendall and Gosnold were against each other. From what I could see, it was close.
"Who's winning?" I asked. Kendall, Gosnold, and the rest of the men at the table looked up, surprised. Gosnold, taking advantage of the distraction, pinned down Kendall's arm.
"D— it, Smith! I nearly had him." He turned to Gosnold, whispering. "That certainly did not count."
"Of course it did," the victor smirked. "You took your eye off the prize."
"Fine, we'll start over. This time, no distractions." He specifically looked at me, before they resumed.
"What is it, Smith?" Archer stuffily sipped his tankard.
"Perhaps I could press my luck against one of you."
He nearly choked on his drink. "Why, I couldn't 't be bothered—"
"Try me, Smith." Percy challenged cunningly.
Percy and I appeared equally matched. I underestimated his strength in the first round, as he gradually pinned me down. Archer, apparently keeping score, gave him a congratulatory slap on the back. The anger within me made me try harder the next time, and I managed to pin him down. Shocked and angrily, we were dead even. This round, neither one of us could move in either direction.
"Ahem!" I turned around to see the tall man with beady eyes staring down at me. "Join the ranks, Smith. Your shift has started. 'Twould be best to make haste."
"Certainly, Sicklemore." At this point, Percy had my arm pinned to the table, with a satisfactory grin. I didn't care, as I wasn't trying at that point. "A most fortunate break," I remarked to him.
I began wondering what made these "gentlemen" particularly different, when apart from the supposed prestige, they acted no different than ordinary men. I looked back towards them, seeing by now Kendall and Gosnold were joking and laughing about something. I admired their camaraderie and confidence. I envied their sense of privilege. I found myself wanting to belong among them; perhaps even wishing I could be in the place of that "Top Gun."
Spring, 1607
"Top Gun?" Thomas asked.
"That's another term for an expert in one's class." John answered. "I suppose 'tis my way of acknowledging I wanted to be like a certain man."
Thomas almost felt as if John was reading his mind... . "You aren't stopping there, are you?"
"I'll tell you more in the morning." Based on the glimmering sun, he decided it would be best to get some shut-eye, as he knew daybreak wasn't far off.