Royal Waves?
1660, Week 15
What a day! And what a week! I know my pattern is to relate the most salient points of the week just gone, typically in order of passing, but this morning is still so very fresh and great a weight on my mind.
I had slept in till about 10 a-clock, likely calmed by the rocking of the ship, and so awoke with a refreshed and peaceful mind. Mr Sheply called to my cabin, bringing with him a morning draught, and we set about drinking to make the morning merry.
Indeed, I had just remarked about how happy my life would be right now, had I nothing to care for but myself, when I happened to glance out the cabin window.
Immediately I gasped. Mr Pierce the purser’s boat was approaching across some of the highest waves we’ve had this week – and that’s saying a great deal…
Mr Sheply and I could only watch through the window, praying all the while, as Mr Pierce endeavoured to board our ship. The waves battered him against the side as he desperately clung to the boarding rope, and many a time did we see him submerged as our ship tipped towards his craft and the rising waters.
The Lord gave him strength, I’m pleased to say. Somehow his grip remained on the soaked rope, despite the salty spray in his eyes. And so our purser is with us, thanks be to God. Had he not made it aboard, his accounting duties would likely have fallen to me.
Still, I can’t help but wonder if his narrow survival might be an omen for things to come, given the news I received this week...
It began a great deal better than the preceding week, with my seasickness apparently overcome, albeit replaced with a headache. (And yes, I’m aware I’ve used the phrase “a great deal” twice in short succession. I blame it on us joining the fleet at the Kentish coastal town of Deal last Monday.)
I continue to be engaged professionally in writing correspondence for my Lord Montagu (and then later engaged personally in drinking with my Lord Montagu). On Tuesday I managed to slip some letters to Elizabeth in with the post, but on Wednesday a boat arrived with a great paquet of letters, including two from Elizabeth to me.
As well as confirming that I remain in her heart, my dear wife also shared the latest news from London. Things go ever further toward a King. One example she cited was the Worshipful Company of Skinners, who had taken down the Parliament arms from their Hall and set up the King’s.
Given how much the populace follow fashion, I imagine that could be the most significant support the King could receive.
I shared Elizabeth’s observations with my Lord, and added in some of my own. My Lord asked if I would be pleased to see the King’s return – and, when he picked up on my reluctance to commit either way, he finally revealed the reason for this expedition:
We are to fetch the King and restore him to the throne.
Since then, I haven’t been able to work out whether my Lord spake these words just to test me, hoping to elicit some kind of response that would prove my inclination either for or against… or whether he was indeed letting me in on the truth.
If the latter, this could be the most historical moment of which I am ever to be part. If they mention me in history books, it will surely be in the same sentence as, “…who saw Charles II safely returned and restored to the throne of England.”
But alas, that Wednesday was also the day the winds began to increase. Their speed and howling continued to build, too, resulting in Mr Purser’s plight of this morning.
Will the winds ever be calm again?
