by Smith, Skye
Warwick’s four lifeguards were more than welcome to stay while waiting for messages back to their lord, and while they waited they lent their hands to the harvest. This help was most welcome, for Wellenhay had been shorthanded for two years, ever since a foundering ship had drowned a third of their men. Needless to say, in a village which had half again as many women as men, these four unmarried lifeguards were viewed as husbands-for-the-catching by the women. Since Fen-Frisian clanswomen were tall, fair, comely, and unburdened by Christian morals, the four lifeguards did not mind the wait, or the hard work, or the nightly rewards. They did not mind at all.
By the end of Daniel's first week home, the clan shared his dreams of building up their cargo trade based on buying and refitting several of the local square rigged coastal ships as Bermudans. They were not so keen on the dream of migrating to Bermuda, however.
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The Pistoleer - Pirates by Skye Smith Copyright 2013-14
Chapter 12 - An all woman crew in the Wash in October 1641
The women on the oars rowed along the length of the big cargo fluyt, which seemed very tall and very fat compared to their low slung single masted coastal ship, the Freisburn. Daniel tried to ignore the whistles and cat calls from the fluyt's crew. It used to be rare for a large ship such as this fluyt to be taking on cargo at Lynn, or King's Lynn as it was named on navy charts, but not anymore. Was it any wonder that the small coastal ships of The Wash such as the Freisburn were no longer paying for themselves.
Daniel and the only other two men on board were embarrassed by the lewd calls, but the oarsmen, err, oarswomen were eating it up as they rowed slowly along the length of the fluyt. The crew of the fluyt had a bird's eye view down their heaving cleavage every time the women pulled on the oars.
"Kill me now," old Cleff muttered from his position on the tiller. Davey on the bow watch was hiding his face from the locals on Lynn quay. Poor Davey was but fifteen and had just lost his mother to the complications of a late pregnancy. On this ship, that meant that he was the darling of the oars.. er..women, most of whom had offered to comfort the pretty lad in their beds since his mothers funeral.
That was the tradition in their village of Wellenhay, and Wellenhay was nothing if it was not traditional. The women accepted their role of teaching the young men how to be with a woman. This was certainly not a tradition of English Christians, but was very common amongst Anglo-Frisian pagans. It was also the tradition of the village women to use the olde North Sea trading language of Frisian as the cradle language of their children. This not only kept the olde tongue alive, but it made it easier for the children to learn other North Sea languages like English and Dutch and Danish, all of which were related through similar Frisian roots.
The Frisian folk on both sides of the North Sea were renown for two things ... their absolute pig headedness, and for breeding the finest of bloodlines. Frisian cattle and Frisian horses were always in demand in the Low Countries, but Frisian women were in demand all over Europe. Not that the women were pretty. Davey was prettier than most of the oarswomen, but only because he was still in his teens.
Frisian babies were born cute, became gangly as children, pretty as teens, but handsome as adults. As for old age, most men did not see it, and the old women were best left described as formidable. The Frisian bloodlines meant fair hair and eyes, but skin with more color than the milky white skin of the blonde English, and clearer than the freckled skin of the redheads. Rather than turn pink and then red in the sunshine, Frisian skin tanned. It was now autumn and these women had all over tans because their summer tasks in their wetland home were best done without much clothing. After all, bare skin dried much faster than homespun.
On this early-October day the sunshine was weak and they were heading out into the chill of the The Wash, the big bay that faced the North Sea. Today the oarswomen were all fully covered up except for the bit of cleavage that the fluyt's crew were enjoying. It was a good thing they were not showing more, else the fluyt's crew would have been diving out of the rigging. The coarse invitations from the fluyt echoed behind the Freisburn as she swept down the River Great Ouse and out into The Wash. The tide had just crested and had not yet begun to ebb so there was no rough water marking the sand bar at the mouth of the Ouse, and they crossed over the bar without missing a stroke.
This was Daniel's second journey to buy another coastal ship like the Freisburn. There were many ships just like it on the Wash and most of them could be bought for far less than their worth even two years ago. There were some sound ships for sale in Lynn, but Lynn was too close to Wellenhay, and once the ships were re-rigged and given a new life, the previous owners may take amiss. Only a rat shits in his own nest.
The reason that this voyage was crewed by women was that the men were now fully busy re-rigging the first ship that Daniel had bought only a few days ago. They had decided to experiment with the first new-to-them-ship, rather than with their trusty Freisburn, just in case it all went wrong. They would leave the conversion of the Freisburn until they were sure of the design.
Though the Wash based coastal ships were rugged and seaworthy and fast under oar, their single mast was square rigged and so they were dependant on oars if the wind was not from a friendly direction. By replacing the single square sail with two triangular sails, one fore and one aft of the mast, in the Bermudan way, then they could do away with most of the oars. There would still be a few oars, of course, but more for maneuvering than for propulsion. Fewer oars meant a smaller crew. A smaller crew meant more room for cargo and fewer shares in the profits.
Re-rigging the mast and sails was not difficult. A few days work for the rigging. A few days work to cut and sew the existing square sail into two triangles. The complexity lay in adding the new keels to the hull. Since these were square rigged coastal traders, they were almost flat bottomed with almost no keel so that if they were caught by a low tide, they would settle even keeled in the mud. To make full use of the Bermudan fore-aft sails required more of a keel to slow the sideways drift of the ship, and to keep the bow from shying away from the wind.
They could not simply deepen the existing keel, for that would make the ship keel over if she were caught by a low tide. The solution was to copy the twin fin keels used by their larger ship, the Swift. The two small fin keels, one on each side of the hull, would not only help her sail close to the wind, but if caught by a low tide, they would brace her from keeling over.
Adding the two fins was complicated. The hull where they were fitted had to be built up and strengthened. Since that meant bracing the gunnels, they had decided to brace the gunnels by building a raised deck over the fore half of the ship. Thus the cargo area would no longer be open to the weather because this new deck would also serve as a roof for the hold It was the work of the carpentry that was keeping the men fully busy.
Once the Freisburn crossed the river bar they hoisted the spar that held the one square sail. Such rigs had been used along this coast since before the Vikings. The wind in their sail now helped them enough that most of the women shipped their oars and took a well earned rest. The ship was trim and being pushed north along the marshy coastline towards the mouth of the River Welland on the north western corner of The Wash.
It was important to the clan that no other village saw the new Bermuda rigs until after they had bought at least five ships at the current low price, for just the sight of such a rig would set tongues wagging, set bright minds thinking, and set ship prices rising. On his first buying trip, Daniel had found many coastal ships for sale along the weather haven formed where both the Witham and the Welland rivers ran into the Wash. The ships beached there had barely paid for themselves this year despite the amount of cargo barged down to Boston on those rivers, cargo on its way to London and the Continent. The bloody Dutch fluyts were putting the Boston ships out of business.
"Two of you go for'd and Davey will show you the bow watch signals,” old Cleff called out t
o two of the resting oarswomen, and they eagerly scrambled forward towards the bow. "and don't you be getting his mind a wandering away from his watch." They turned towards Cleff and waved. Though Davy was very young, he was prime husband material due to the shortage of men in their village.
Meanwhile two of the older women climbed up onto the tiny aft castle where Daniel stood next to old Cleff at the long steering tiller. The deck of the castle created a tiny cabin underneath it, which was the only place aboard where one could get out of the weather. "Now your for it,” Cleff told Daniel, for both of these women were Daniel's wives, second wives for sure, but still wives.
Daniel stretched his arms out and the women cuddled into him, one under each arm. "You're all sweaty from pulling the oars,” he cautioned them. "You should throw your cloaks over your shoulders so you don't catch the cold. There is no warmth in that sun."
"Cloaks, we don't need our cloaks so long as we have yours,” replied Venka , the eldest of the two sisters, as she pulled open his cloak so that all three of them could share the warmth. Since she was Daniel's brother's widow, by traditional law he no choice but to accept her petition to be his second wife, even though he did not yet have a first wife, that is ... a wife of his choice. It was a good and logical tradition in a seafaring village like theirs. It meant that the wife of a drowned seaman had a better option than becoming a forlorn widow.
Venka's sister Sarah was also widowed, but of a drylander man from Cambridge whose Christian family had no such tradition of dealing kindly with widows. Though Daniel could have refused her petition to be his second wife, he had not. The alternative for Sarah would have been the dreary life of a Christian widow, or worse. Worse because comely Christian widows like Sarah were often preyed upon by well heeled men, for a short time as mistresses, and then as harlots, and later as alehouse whores. Daniel could never wish that on any woman, especially not a woman as good hearted as Sarah.
"Cleff,” Venka said sweetly, "on this trip you were supposed to teach me how to be a tillerman."
"Well come over here and share my cloak,” he replied, so Venka stepped towards him.
Sarah now had Daniel all to herself so she pushed further under his cloak and stood in front of him with his long arms wrapping his cloak shut around her. He was swaying slightly in the way of seafarers to compensate for the constantly moving deck, and she had now choice but to sway with him. Bundled up in the warmth of his cloak, it was like a slow dance, a slow bed dance.
She felt a glow from his warmth. He was a very talented bed dancer. There was something about the touch of his skin, the all over touch of his skin. She wished he would raise his hands up from her tummy and cup her breasts. No, that would give old Cleff the wrong idea and he may do the same to Venka. Venka had no patience with old men, so she would stomp away from the tiller instead of learning about it.
Cleff put a foot back and twisted sideways away from the tiller so that Venka could step between him and it. She pulled one side of his cloak around her shoulders and waited for the elder to speak. "Now the first thing to know is that you never, ever let go of the tiller,” he told her. "It takes but a moment for a loose tiller to put a ship into deep trouble. Now lean against the tiller, lightly, the put one elbow over it while you grab the end of it with the other hand. Right, now she's all yours. I'm leaving go of it so whatever happens, you must not let go and you must not make any fast moves."
As soon as Cleff let go, Venka felt the full force of the tiller and she had to adjust her stance to keep her balance, and then she almost let go of it, but instead hissed, "Cleff you son of a ... let go of my tits."
"Good girl, you didn't let go of the tiller. That was just a test."
"Oh be serious. If today we buy two ships instead of one, it will be me steering the second one home."
"Right, now see that signal from Davey on the bow,” Cleff told Venka. "That is just to get your attention that he has spotted something in the water ahead of us. It could be anything, a shallows or a bar or a dead head log. See how he is pointing starboard with one arm. That means a gentle turn. Two arms would mean a hard turn."
"Starboard? Why don't you just say right?"
"Ask that later. For now pull the tiller towards you, slowly now. You push or pull the tiller in the opposite direction from where he is pointing."
"Well that is just silly,” Venka replied, but she did as she was told.
"You see, the bow moves the other way from the tiller. The bow is turning starboard. The longer you hold the tiller towards you, the more the bow will turn. Right, Davey is pointing straight up. That means you've turned enough, so push the tiller back towards the center."
"Well that is easier to remember. So there is no special word for the center?"
"Amidships. A bit more. Whenever you steer under sail, you always steer a bit too far and then ease back a bit. That gives the riggers some slack in the lines so the sails are easier to adjust."
"But our riggers aren't doing anything,” she replied. "Should I be yelling at them to do something?"
"Nay, the wind is almost behind us so there is no need. Besides, those women wouldn't know what to do even if there was a need." The elder lowered his voice. "By the way, you've got nice full tits. Women don't favour me any more like they used to when I was younger."
"You can have one more gentle squeeze and then leave them be." She felt his bony old hands on her breasts, and heard him moan in appreciation. "Enough. Davey is signaling again. He wants us to turn gently the other way."
The only sound from Cleff was another moan, so she pushed the tiller away from her and watched the bow turn left, until Davey's arm shot up and then she centered the tiller again. Davey's arm went right, she pulled left, the bow went right, and his arm shot up, and she centered. Cleff had been groping her the whole time. "Enough is enough," she hissed.
"Aye, that was lovely. It's always best to hold them a bit too long."
"Are you talking about my hands or yours?" Venka said with a chuckle.
"Aye. Now most of the time, a tillerman's hardest task is staying awake and alert. A ship under sail will wander off course as soon as you ain't paying attention. The easiest way to keep a course is to sail towards a landmark. See that tall church tower straight ahead. That is Boston Stump and if you keep the bow pointed towards it, you will sail right into the mouth of the river that leads to it. Did Danny ever tell you that some of the pilgrims he met in Massachusetts were from Boston? They had been fowlers but they had fallen on hard times because of the drainage clearances. Now they have their own farms."
"So that is all there is to keeping this course? Just keep the bow pointed towards the Stump."
"Not quite all. She can be blown sideways by the wind or dragged sideways by a current, and they don't usually blow and drag in the same direction. You may not notice it, but over a few miles a little drifting can make a big difference. We are in an ebb tide which is dragging us eastward, so you should keep your bow pointed just to the West of the Stump."
"If you mean to the left of the Stump then just say left. Don't make it sound more difficult than it is with all of this east west larboard starboard nonsense." Venka was irritable because the old man was still groping her. "Teesa,” she called out to her youngest daughter who was down with the other oarswomen warming her hands near a brazier of glowing charcoal. The hard work of rowing kept everything warm except for your hands. "Teesa, be a dear and fetch my cloak from the cabin. You'll know it by my broach."
Teesa Venkadotter was only three years older than Davey, yet they were decades apart. The clansmen called her 'Teesa Huntress', because she would rather have been born a man, so she tried to excel at manly duties such as hunting and fishing. With the found cloak in hand, she leaped up the stairs to the steering castle in two bounds. It was a lovely cloak, a hooded cloak, and the interweaving of the three natural colors of wool was done in the clan's traditional pattern.
Cleff was an elder, a man due respect. His hunched posture bel
ied that only five years ago he had been the elected commander of this ship, as well as the elected war lord of the clan. Teesa gave him a polite bow as she approached the two on the tiller, and then held the cloak out towards her mother.
"I'll take the tiller while you put your cloak on,” Teesa offered and then stepped forward quickly and grabbed hold of it before Cleff could say no. Through the tiller she felt the force of the rudder, and the sail, and the wind, and the current, and she smiled at the thought that she controlled so much power with her own hands.
Once her cloak was over her shoulders and clasped closed, Venka tried to take the tiller back from her daughter, but Teesa would not let go. Sarah and Daniel were watching all this as together they slowly swayed in their boat dance. Teesa had reached that age where a daughter would rebel against anything her mother said or did, and now there was trouble brewing between them because of the tiller. "Say something love," Sarah whispered into Daniel's ear, "else they'll both be bitchy for the rest of the day."
"Venka,” Daniel did as he was told, "let Teesa have the tiller. If ever you are needed to command a ship, then you will have too many other worries to be tied to the tiller." He opened his cloak with one arm to invite her back to him.
Venka looked over at him, and then at her daughter, and then she shrugged, left her cloak under her arm, and stepped across to his waiting hug. "That makes good sense. Besides I will learn faster by watching Cleff teach her. Oh, and we all need to be taught some basics about the rigging. After the women are rested I would like you to show us all how to work the wind with the sail."
With the tiller to herself, Teesa's smile lit up her eyes and she looked like a five year old with a new toy. She even smiled at the old rake who was moving forward to stand behind her and share his cloak to keep her warm, for she was still damp from the sweat of the rowing. Once she was sharing his cloak, Cleff 's hands wandered up her body, but soon stopped. Not only were her breasts small, but they were well protected by her rawhide hunting jerkin with its sheepskin lining. He mumbled his disappointment as he began teaching her about the tiller.