Elections and Rigging
1660, Week 16
I can hardly bear to write; it feels like I’ve done little else all week. Granted, the majority at the start of the week were dictated to Burr, my onboard assistant – but sometime on Thursday, the bold fellow chose to head ashore without my leave, which vexed me greatly.
Fortunately, the weather has been kinder to us, save for that same Thursday when the rain permeated my cabin. That night I was forced to wrap myself up in a dry sheet, which didn’t provide protection for long. But alas, the only real waterproof material is metal, and that would likely have made for an even less pleasant sleep.
Why all the corresponding? Ah, so many answers! It seems we are lucky to be on the seas right now, because it is unusually more choppy on land!
For instance, shortly after sharing my diary with you from last week, I learned that Lord Lambert – that virulent supporter of republican values – had escaped the Tower. He had apparently swapped clothes with a maid, who then fooled the guards by pretending to be the Lord at rest! Quite literally lying, in both senses of the word…!
A price of 100 pounds was placed on Lambert’s head. But just a few days later, the Fanatiques were stirring unrest around London, no doubt bolstered by Lambert’s victory of deception. Surely they don’t think a march through London based on a man’s pride with wearing women’s clothing could ever catch on?
I hope this unrest will come to nothing, and my wife and home especially shall be spared from any violence. In the direction of joy, however, my Lord Montagu received emissary after emissary this week, each bearing positive news. My Lord is now elected MP of both Weymouth and Dover, and is wanted as MP for Cambridge. He’s even wanted as bursar by the University!
My Lord was particularly pleased with that last election, for he believed it proof that he’s perceived by noble minds to be a thriving man. After all, no-one would usually be chosen for such a powerful position without being wonderfully wealthy themselves.
But even my Lord’s mirth wasn’t unsullied. The sensitive nature of our mission, as revealed to me last week, had him arranging some changes in personnel – including some senior officers. Captain Dekings, for example, is one his way out from the Worcester in favour of Captain Blake.
At least Captain Dekings is an Anabaptist, so he’ll feel at home if they throw him overboard.
Despite all this, though, it has been a satisfying week, and most days ended with wine, hearty discourse, and even the occasional singsong. The captain of our ship even treated me to pickled oysters for me earlier today.
I feel very blessed indeed. Perhaps our voyage to restore the King is auspicious after all.