XVIII. New Beginnings

"Good day, men. It gives me great pleasure to become your Captain, in Newport's stead."

It should've been a happy occasion, but instead it wasn't. Rather than celebrating, the seamen were confused and grumbled amongst themselves. I noted some old faces, and new faces. Some men—including Ben and Lon, decided to stay behind for various reasons. I, on the other hand, was eager to return to sea, regardless.

"Our comrade, Gosnold, apologizes for not being able join us, due to personal obligations. I'm certain you all would understand, he'd be here otherwise... ." I heard him mutter under his breath, "as many of you would've preferred," before regaining composure. "On behalf of my cousin and Newport, I would like to note certain changes which I would call 'new beginnings'."

After Edward-Maria Wingfield announced himself as the Captain, he mentioned Sicklemore would remain the First Mate, Martin the Second Mate and Kendall the Third Mate. Of course, Archer was still the Boatswain.

Surprisingly, the Quartermaster position wasn't replaced. Instead, Wingfield mentioned the duties of the Quartermaster would be shared with that of the First Mate and Captain, for the time being.

The crew didn't seem to take these new beginnings very well. Nevertheless, the alternative or original option was less than desirable.

Unexpectedly Wingfield had made another announcement. "As our former Master Gunner has retired, on behalf of Newport, and many of the officers, I present our new Master Gunner...John Smith."

"What?" My mouth dropped open in complete shock, amidst clapping and cheering.

"You heard the man—you're the Master Gunner." Kendall chided.

I wasn't expecting any promotion, but Wingfield later spoke to me. "Newport and my cousin secretly discussed granting you the position to the other officers, over the Winter, and preferred it not to be known until an announcement was official; lest you would boast." He didn't seem as pleased about the arrangement, more or less that he agreed to keep the peace.

Martin recognized my lack of experience, but seeing how efficiently I worked, even as a sailor convinced him, and a few others I would be capable of handling the position. "Well done, lad. You may soon find yourself moving through the ranks soon enough. "Falcon" personally congratulated me, while "Phoenix" gave me a congratulatory slap on the back, and ruffled my hair.

"Indeed, Sirs—I am quite honored," I responded, still in shock.

A few other men, however, were also none too pleased. Sicklemore was cross about the matter. A couple other crew members, who were my age, or older, felt somewhat snubbed. Percy was no exception.

"To think, less than a year ago you couldn't aim a few stones in front of you." Clearly, he detested the idea. "Now, suddenly you're one of the best aboard and have been so readily promoted."

"Are you congratulating me on how far along I've come?" I teased. He scowled. I then asked him, "Whatever became of you studying at Middle Temple?"

"I grew ill before the semester began and had to defer my enrollment." Speaking of Percy, I decided it was high time to return what belonged to him. "My prize money?! I looked everywhere—"

"You left it on the ground in London." He thought for a moment, and took it away, smirking. "You're most welcome!" I annoyingly shouted to him. But why should I have expected more from Percy?

I embraced my new sense of responsibility, and took my role very seriously. I aspired to be personable, yet, maintain authority. However, I found this a bit more difficult with older seamen. They seemed to dislike taking command from a younger man. Others complained I had become a bit pigheaded in my new role. Perhaps I let the role get the best of me. A part of me wished I could ask Newport for advice. But I remembered Gosnold explaining his early difficulties in overseeing his peers. I preferred his method of dealing with people as opposed to Martin's overt strictness. I wanted to get my point across, without forcefulness. In time, I learned to stop trying to please others and just be myself. I preferred to be hands-on, assisting the crew as opposed to simply just shouting orders. I made it clear to people we were a part of a team. After a while I found even older crew members respected me more. Before long, I earned the code name "Crow" for my aggressiveness, intelligence, and for also being quarrelsome and playful at times.

I found Wingfield to be more "by the book" than Newport, and very orderly and definitely a "no-nonsense" leader. While he had a good sense of command, he seemed robotic, as if he were merely going through the motions. Often, I could even predict his next order. At times, he seemed bored at his position. I didn't get the sense he truly wanted to be there.

I also discovered, he was three decades older than I was. Given our age difference, I found his attitude towards me and to other young sailors somewhat condescending. I felt he treated me more like a parent would a child; talking down to me, and micromanaging me as if he felt me incapable of doing my job. He also seemed to have a personal vendetta against me, as he didn't understand why his cousin would associate himself with a peasant farmer. I knew his cousin was from a certain gentry, hence his many connections; however, he didn't seem too proud of being associated with such people; rather embarrassed even. Now I knew why. Most sailors (apart from Martin, Archer, and even Kendall), called him, "Ave Maria" (or "Hail Mary"), as they initially greeted him. (He wasn't fond of either code name, apparently.) While they'd still whisper it, they more openly began calling him, the "Owl," for his wisdom. (It was really a more polite way of calling him an "old bugger".) They did however, somewhat respect him for his military background and were on best behavior in his presence.

I noted some conflict between the Captain and First Mate. Oftentimes Wingfield and Sicklemore seemed to butt heads and quarrel on ideas. They both apparently wanted to be right and heard; but Wingfield would usually have the last word, leaving Sicklemore fuming and venting to Martin.

Certainly, it wasn't long before our previous Captain and Quartermaster were sorely missed. Arch, Kenny and I were enjoying a smoke, at least were trying to.

"I reckon we'll be needing a few of these," remarked "Falcoln."

"What happened?" I asked them. "How did Wingfield become in charge?"

Kenny did a quick look-around, noticing 'Raven' was afar off, before replying quietly. "Apparently Newport had concerns about leaving his ship in Sicklemore's command based on the men's complaints. Since the men were also unsure about Martin, he proposed to allow the men to vote for his replacement. Sicklemore and Martin readily dismissed the proposal, knowing very well who the popular vote would be... .Lord knows 'Raven' wouldn't take too kindly of a younger man being in charge over him, neither does 'Hawk' think him old enough for the position. Being shareholders certainly points the cards in their favor. Newport personally asked Wingfield to step in, as he presumed a more experienced veteran would be more favorable among the shareholders."

"I suppose it is just as well," Arch spoke up, "since Bart shortly decided to remain at home for a while longer, perhaps to appease his family. Perhaps they didn't want to give anyone such a position on short notice, and thus split his duties...until recently when the 'Owl' decided to manage the loot on his own after a particular disagreement with the 'Raven.'"

"I don't suppose he would have stayed if not for—" Kenny stopped himself.

"Now men." The "Raven" was approaching us. "There is much to be done."

"Well, that settles it then," Arch emptied the contents of his pipe.

"Must you always do as you're told?"

"I'm surprised you've come as far as you have without doing so." The "Phoenix" began fuming at "Falcoln's" response, but I held him back.

"How do you suppose he's doing, at home?" I asked Kendall regarding "Gryphon".

"Perhaps he's weary from constantly consoling a wailing child at odd hours of the night, while catering to the demands of 'she who must be obeyed', and banging his head against a wall, cursing at himself, for not being out here... . At least, that's what I'd be doing if I were him; perhaps even Newport also. I suppose he's settling into fatherhood and being a husband. I'm not certain I could do the same, as I can't see myself making a vow to someone that I know I'm unlikely to keep. For his sake, I wish him well. Though between you and myself, I miss his presence, despite knowing Wingfield is actually "good company" after a few pints, and a smoke or a chew—but I never told you that. He doesn't like his men to know such things." He winked. (Who knew he would like to chew in his spare time?!) He emptied the contents of his pipe. "I best be headed off for some shut-eye if I wish to be ready for my next watch."

I was so lost in thought. I realized it hadn't even been a year, and I had changed and learned so much. I had grown some, experienced real dangers for the first time, life in high society, amongst other things... . I never had a desire to smoke before, and now... I was never one to gamble; but now... . Did I even like who I had become? The smoking wasn't helping. I admittedly didn't enjoy it as much without Newport's company. I wondered why he himself was so eager to stop? Would having a family change someone that much?

I dumped out the contents, imagining the memories it gave me while the smoke lingered for a while. I thought of Newport and our talks while sharing drinks. However, it also gave me vivid memories of Gosnold: and all he had taught me, our banters and chats, sword fighting, and that misadventure in Africa. Many secrets we'd never share with anyone else we had shared while smoking together. He certainly had his flaws, but even so, I remembered how often he went out of his way for me when he had no reason to do so. While I couldn't imagine how he'd react to me now, I couldn't help but imagine how things would be if he were in command... . Why was I thinking so much, anyhow? Those days were gone now. I looked at the pipe, long and hard, before I tossed it into the sea.