Pomp & Print
1660, Week 19
Once again, I’ve suffered a week in which I spent virtually every hour of each day writing and receiving and responding to missives – a duty requiring much lubrication. On Monday morning, our captain kindly sent me a dozen bottles of Margate ale.
Half were empty before one a-clock the next morning.
Around me, though, our ships have been pimped with pomp all week. On Wednesday we received the news of the London proclamation to prepare the city for the King. From that moment, you could have called us ‘London on the Sea’.
We’ve had every tradesman of human artistry aboard! Painters, embroiderers, woodsmen… even trumpeters and fiddlers… even William Sanderson, the royal biographer!
Sanderson actually greeted me with the words, “Good Cozen!” Ah – he hasn’t forgotten that our families both hail from Cottenham in Cambridgeshire. A fine literary titan the county has mothered in him. I dare not hope to have even one ounce of his fame one day.
I was involved in a lot of the decorating myself, albeit only insofar as to place the orders on behalf of my Lord Montagu. I arranged to adorn my own cabin accordingly too, and lately sent my boy Eliezer on a mission to fetch some new linen from the port of Deal.
That was when the wind kicked up a fuss, and I was afeared for my boy’s safety. Luckily I learned the next day that he had been safely brought aboard the Northwich. He is back with me now.
Oh that I didn’t have to say the same about that rotter, Mr Burr. He may be the reason why ‘clerk’ rhymes with ‘dark’, because I hardly ever know where he is – though perhaps rhyming with ‘berk’ would be more appropriate for him, especially since it would add just one consonant to his name.
Yet again he was ashore without letting me know, much less seeking my permission. On Saturday I sent for the Deputy Treasurer of the Fleet, Mr Pitts, intending to ask him to give Burr his marching orders. Wait, this is the navy… Swimming orders?
As it happened, Pitts was late getting to me, so ironically Burr returned before him. The miserable wretch gave such a humble supplication for my forgiveness that I, lightened in spirit by the fabulous festooning taking place around us, set him further tasks. Oh, I hope that doesn’t come back to bite me in the gangrene.
I had other reasons to be light in spirit, though. My Lord’s most fit and faithful servant, Mr Cooke, came aboard Tuesday with the news that my wife’s health is restored, and she had sent him with well-worded proclamations of her love.
Cooke also presented me with some broadsheets from London, revealing… my name in print! My record of our fleet receiving the King’s declaration was quoted almost in full, and credited to my name! I noted a reporter had also quoted my words from last week, those being…
“…every ship in our fleet marked its pride in the declaration of King and country with pendants loose, guns roaring, caps flying, and loud renditions of ‘Vive le Roy’ echoing from one ship to another.”
…but that reference was not rightfully attributed to me. Scoundrel.
Nevertheless, my written words are clearly seen to have some merit. Ha – watch it, Sanderson. I could be coming for your title of ‘Most Famous Cambridgeshire Author’ after all…!