Playing the Cards You've Been Dealt

By Peter C. BonSey

Three of a Kind 

The Cane Family's Hand.

Country folk in the early 19th century England lived a simple hand to mouth existence. The harsh reality of the rural country side life versus the brutal experiences of city folk did little to prepare Judd Cane for the explosive reality that was about to hit him. Relying on his s

• Language: English
• Publisher: An English Gardener
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781495819278

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Copyright © 2022 by Peter C. BonSey

ISBN: 978-1-4958-1928-5 paperback

eISBN: 978-1-4958-1927-8 eBook

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in any form, or by any mechanical or electronic means including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, in whole or in part in any form, and in any case not without the written permission of the author and publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published September 2022

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Playing the Cards You’ve Been Dealt Trilogy

Three of a Kind

The Cane Family’s Hand

An eleven year old son of an Essex country village working class family changes the destiny of the Cane family. The family’s mantra of playing the cards you’ve been dealt never loses its influence on him. Rural wits are pitted against street smarts. The world becomes the stage upon which good and bad events unfold, only to be outridden, not always above board.

A Royal Flush

The St-John-Brown Family’s Hand

This family has built its status on dubious origins. While wealth and Royal family connections appear to come with un-written and perceived privileges, they are often abused, and are displayed with belligerence and arrogance towards the lesser recipients. The St-John-browns have a mixture of decency which tends to color their true character.

Now! Who’s the Joker?

Julian Fetter’s Hand

One family is influenced by strong opportunistic women, while the other by strong moralistic men. It takes 150 years for a collision of their bloodline values in the mid-twentieth century to culminate with a shockingly ironic result. Murder is the act that changes an intense sibling rivalry into a spirited alliance. What some view as greed others, view as survival.

My name is Jim the Carters lad, a jolly chap am I

I always am contented be the weather wet or dry.

I snaps me fingers at the snow whistles at the rain

I weathers storms for many a year and will as go again

Crack crack goes me whip I whistle and I sing

As I sits on me wagon I’m as happy as a King

me ‘orse is always willing and I am never sad

There’s none can lead a jollier life than Jim the carters Lad

Me father was a carter many years ago

Up and off to market on a Thursday he would go.

Sometimes he took me with him, ‘atic’alar in the spring

I loved to sit upon his cart and listen to ‘im sing.

Crack crack goes me whip I whistle and I sing

I sits on me wagon I’m as happy as a King

The ‘orse is always willing and I am never sad

There’s none can lead a jollier life than Jim the carters Lad

The girls they always smile at me as I go trotting past

Me ‘orse is such a beauty and trots along real fast

We cover many a weary mile an ‘appy times we had

There’s none can lead a jollier life than Jim the carters Lad

Crack crack goes me whip I whistle and I sing

As I sits on me wagon I’m as happy as a King

The ‘orse is always willing and I am never sad

There’s none can lead a jollier life than Jim the carters Lad

(Old English folk song circa

ENGLAND - MUCKING & DOCKLAND

Chapter 1

Davey Blacksmith was fourteen, and Judd saw him as an older brother, a mentor. As Davey would often say, I can learn you things, me boy, you can only dream of. One windy May night, Davey Blacksmith told Judd, I’s a rekonin’ that Jim and his dad, you and me, could just be a-going out this night figurin’ there might be a beauty going down on the Gravesend Sands. Likely as not weem be gonna take us some good catchings. That night, the winds roared in off the North Sea with such force that tree limbs blew across the village green A number of mighty oaks and elms cracked like gunshots as they split and fell. The whole village was battened down for the onslaught.

Judd lay on his bed, torn between the thrill of potentially going out with Jim and his dad and the fear of the howling wind and thunderous noise. His mind raced with pictures of sea foam, blowing debris, and possibility of getting some booty.

He eventually fell asleep, only to be awakened by Davey calling out his name. As he hastily threw on his cloak and opened the door, Judd was shocked. Farm carts lay on their sides. Boxes, barrels, crates, and tree limbs thicker than a man’s leg lay strewn about. In Judd’s eleven-year-old mind, if it was this big, strong, and frightening, and you didn’t know what it was, it must be God. This looked to him as if God’s hand had brushed through the village in a fit of anger. As he left the cottage the night sky was tinged with the eerie glow of approaching dawn. Everything was calm, quiet and still.

Jim the carter was across the village green upon his cart and beckoned the boys to be quick. We’s got to be the first on the shore, boys, he said. Them as what gots anything left will be too busy a-cleaning and picking up to bother us.

The flotsam on the shore was a sight to behold. The Arcadia, a thirty-two-gun behemoth of a galleon, lay forlornly on its side, cargo strewn as far as Judd could see. All three masts were snapped just above the deck line. The magnificent ship had been built around 1750, and even with all her oceanic rendezvous, nautical miles and weather-beaten hull, she still was a thing of incredible beauty to Judd. It was as if a great creature of the sea had died, and its carcass washed ashore. The main mast looked as if Neptune had picked it up in fury and rammed it into the sand. The rigging and tattered sails hung on the upside-down mast in the stillness like a sad laundry line.

The quartet of scavengers were alone on the beach, and they stacked the cart so high in such a short time that it was almost comedic. Judd found, and greatly admired, a small lady’s writing desk that had come ashore undamaged. Jim said "Some’at that genteel would be out o place in the village, but he relented when Judd spoke so highly of it to allow him to have it. The wagon was loaded so high with spoils that Judd and Jim’s son lay spread-eagled atop the load, hanging on for dear life to prevent things from falling off the bouncing of the wagon as it slipped and slid in and out of deep muddy ruts. Nothing could throw them.

At the end of particularly grueling Herculean effort that night after Jim set Judd down at the cottage Jim the carter made a gift of the lady’s desk to Judd. Judd scurried away with the desk, and set it up in the cowshed beside the house before anyone from inside saw him. He removed the large, tattered piece of sail that he had used to protect the desk as well it could from the rain.

After setting some sacks on the dirt floor of the cowshed and lighting some oil lamps to better inspect his treasure, Judd sat on an upturned crate and simply gazed at its beauty. Away from all other distractions, the desk had an air of elegance that captured his imagination. He inspected the long, gracefully curved legs, so thin they reminded him of a swan’s neck looking up to the sky. The four legs stood about two and a half feet high, about up to Judd’s waist. They shimmered a burning red-gold color, just like Mary Washerman’s hair. Strange, that this inanimate piece of furniture would remind him of her. He’d never admitted to himself that she had so much of his attention before. Connecting the two front legs was a drawer that bowed out slightly in the center, with a deep curve on the underside that with the curve of the legs, gave the impression of a heart. Across the curving front of the drawer was the most delicate inlaid design of leaves and vines and flowers, centered on a brass-edged keyhole. The inlay was of the most delicately hued rosewood and ivory. The bouquet commanded Judd to gently draw his fingers across. There were no indents or raised surfaces. Judd marveled at how finely the tiny pieces of wood and ivory fitted into the surface, as if they had grown there.

The area in the center was inlaid with dark green, almost black leather. This was still wet. Judd knew it would change color as it dried. In one front corner, a tiny section had started to lift. Judd searched the barn floor for something to hold it down while it dried. He was worried about staining it. He eventually settled on a cobblestone of quartz, which he put gently in place. He thought it looked so clumsy, sitting on the front corner above such a fine leg.

On the rear corners of the desk surface were two small boxes each housing a drawer. Judd moved a lantern to see them better, discovering a circular stain on the leather inlay. He deduced that these were stains from candelabra’s hot wax. He imagined some fine lady had sat at the desk and done her correspondence. The fretwork in the brass connecting the back of the two drawers was so intricate Judd could not imagine tools small enough to do the work. He was used to seeing the blacksmiths’ great, thumping iron mallets and anvils, but this was of another world. It was unbelievable that something so fragile-looking had withstood the ravages that nature had put it through in the last few hours.

Judd ran his hands over the silky, smooth surfaces until he could keep his eyes open no longer. He crept up to his room and slid into an exhausted slumber.

Not long after he awoke, the family gathered in the small parlor set aside for special occasions, and Judd made a grand gesture of presenting this treasure to his mother. He could see that she was concerned about where he got, but said nothing

Judd’s father often spoke of the great gales of 1824 that wrecked three mighty ships at one time the Caravalho, the Colville, and the Leonora. Judd never connected the fate of those ships with the shipwrecks he had witnessed. After all, they were in Dorset, the other end of the country. They might as well have been in another world. But Judd was to learn later in life that that other world was just around the corner.

Chapter 2

Eighteen twenty-six was one of those years of great innovation in England. Up and down the length of the British Isles, new inventions were appearing every day. With King George IV on the throne of England, the industrial age was well underway. The year before, the world’s first public railway, the Stockton-Darlington line, had opened. Bigger and faster ships were being built as the empire expanded its grip on the world and the demand grew for products from abroad. Factories, springing up in the north of England, chewed up the raw materials and spit out gadgets and gizmos for everyone, even for the common man.

Slavery was not to be abolished for another eight years, but industrialists were constantly on the lookout for cheaper labor, and in child labor, they found a solution. Poverty was quite common in the cities, and often, children were forced into labor by families unable to feed them. Children, as young as five and six, performed simple tasks in factories, enabling the wealthy owners to keep costs down.

But to those who lived off the land, who were cautious country folk, the rumors of children vanishing in the night were city problems and couldn’t happen to them. It was beyond their comprehension, that anyone would take a country child. Some villagers believed these were tales dreamt up by the travelers to frighten the many illiterate local people, but these stories lingered on in their minds. Even with all the changes, many villages, which lay great distances from the cities, were still accessible only by muddy roads and tracks. Many still operated on a system of self-governance, as they had for over two hundred years. They clung onto the rules and methods they had always administered to themselves as needed.

To them, there were two worlds: those that had and those that didn’t have. Some villages were happy to operate as they always had. One such village was Mucking.

***

The village of Mucking, not to be mistaken with Mucking Down, stood across the river from Gravesend and Chatham which were great naval ports. Mucking lay one mile inland from where the River Thames flowed into the North Sea. Whereas Mucking Down hung precariously to the banks on lower-laying stretches of mud flats and survived off sea and river-fishing. Mucking was a farming community with both seafaring connections and commercial enterprises. Both villages had great stretches of water on one side and miles of rolling hills and farmland in the distance on the other. Mucking’s access to Tilbury and the great docklands of the East India company, made it superior to Mucking Down, which was often cut off from the rest of the area by the periodic swelling of the river. Also, just north of Mucking was the great London Road that ran from the port of Harwich, on the North Sea coast, to London. This road carried much trade from the North Sea ports and fishing villages directly into London, and many small businesses sprung up to capitalize on the passing traffic.

Mucking had four families that were looked upon as the core of village life. The Blacksmith family. As their family name indicated, they actually were blacksmiths. Nobody could recall a time when the village was without a blacksmith by trade or a Blacksmith by name. David and Tilley Blacksmith were parents to a boy, David, and two girls, Joanna and Priscilla.

Then there were the Carters. The moving of objects large or small, short or long distances, was their domain Naturally they had horses, oxen, and two strongly built drays capable of carrying large loads. As well as assisting the local farmers at harvest time, Jim the carter had regular runs to London. Though the Carters were considered one of the better-off families, this carried little weight in the village. Jim and his wife Elizabeth, had three daughters, Jane, Hermoine, and Eliza, and two boys, Ben and Jim. Jim was named after his father.

The third family was the Canes, Will and Mary. While the patriarch of the Canes laid no claim to a trade or profession, he was noted for his work ethic and ability to turn his hand to any task. He would leave the house at dawn, and could always be seen scurrying from one place to another carrying out some job or other. More often than not, he could be found at the country manor of the Earl of Essex. There was always work to be done in the gardens and on the buildings, for which the Earl preferred to pay for as used. While the Earl spent most of his time in London, Cane maintained the country home for the him, and always liked it to be well kept. Many an evening would see Will Cane drag his weary body home into his kitchen, where there was always a hot meal on the hob and a jug of ale. He would eat as if starving, fill his tankard with ale, sit in front of the fire, and fall asleep.

His wife admired his work ethic and appreciated his ability to provide for the family. She was always proud that the local people turned to her husband when they needed help. In times of hardship, it never hurt to have plenty of work from local villagers who wanted to stay on her husband’s good side. Their only child was a son named Judd. It was assumed that the boy would follow in his father’s footsteps. Mary Cane was obsessed with giving her son every opportunity that she could. Using newspapers and anything she could find she taught Judd to read and write at an early age. She drummed into his head that if you understood numbers they would always tell you a story that could not be hidden by clever words. She would point out numbers everywhere around them from the number of spokes in a wheel to counting the birds flying south for the winter.

The final of the four families was Mildred and Michael Washerman, the most industrious of all. Both husband and wife would leave their house in the wee hours of the morning and visit three adjacent farms, where they would take a team of young girls from the village and oversee the milking of the cows. They would repeat this process in the evening. The girls would be paid with milk, cheese, and an annual share of beef when slaughtering took place. Mrs. Washerman also gave the girls a silver sixpenny piece at the end of each week, which they kept for themselves. These girls were from poor families, and the milk and cheese they took home was quite often the only food their families had.

Each farm paid the Washerman’s one steer a year and twenty-five percent of the daily milk. From this milk, the Washerman’s made cheese, which they would sell on the weekly market day.

The Washerman’s were blessed with a daughter, Mary, who was four years older than young Judd Cane. Mary could read and write and from ten years old she had been responsible for the record keeping of the family business. Her industrious nature tended to keep her aloof from the other village children.

Mucking had twenty-one cottages, as well as a blacksmith’s forge that reaped the benefits of the new age of industry and mechanization, although much of the smithy’s work came from the docks. David Blacksmith’s oldest memories were of his father’s forge belching smoke and spitting fiery plumes of sparks into the air as the burly forge men fashioned the great iron hoops that were to strengthen new ships masts or repair old ones.

A small bakery woke the villagers with the pungent smell of breads and fresh baked delights early every morning. In the late morning, the baker’s window was filled with fresh pastries and cakes yearned after by every child in the village. In the afternoons, village folk would gather around the bakery to buy a baked potato, the fashionable, inexpensive alternative to the common pea soup or hot eels that were to be had for a quick snack. Slowly, as word of mouth spread, the bakery had gained notoriety among the travelers’ passing by the village. The hot potatoes not only raised the income of the village baker, but also tempted the travelers on the great London Road to stop at Mucking more frequently rather than passing it by. The fresh country air and river breezes mixed with the hunger-tugging aroma of potatoes, pea soups, hot eels, oysters, fried fish, pies, trotters, puddings, whelks, and hot green peas were often enjoyed in the warmth that emanated from the smithy’s three large forges next door. Gradually, the forge became the center of activity, and a village green and square evolved from common land across the road from the forge. On one side of the common was the village pub, ‘The Weary Traveler.’ The pub was tiny but managed to boast a public bar, a snug bar and a private. The ‘private’ bar was most commonly used by passing merchants and business people. The ‘snug’ was used by the genteel folk, and women of the village, who would rather stay apart from the boisterous public bar. The public bar, a noisy place, was where men would meet after a day’s work to relax and socialize and often brawl.

The volume of people passing by generated opportunity, and soon, a haberdashery was established. This business served all the smaller villages, and supplied the local folk with yarns, wools, boots, and all manner of millinery, including bolts of cloth from the great mills up north. Much of the inventory of the haberdashery was bought from passing traders, while more esoteric merchandise was obtained from the East India Docks nearby. Not all of it was obtained above-board.

There was a one-room hall that stood alone to one side of the village green, as if keeping watch over the village. It was used by the local folk to settle disputes and manage the common affairs of the surrounding villages. Most of the meetings were held amid noisy chatter and smoke-filled air from clay pipes of the menfolk, accompanied by laughter and jeering. In 1829, in London, a group of order-keepers was formed by Sir Robert Peel. It was the English version of the Royal Irish Constabulary that had proved so successful. It wouldn’t be until 1839 that the hall was taken over and used by a local constabulary.

Small English towns and villages in the Essex countryside offered little real excitement for an eleven-year-old boy like Judd Cane and his friends. But at harvest time in July under the full summer sun, when the threshers and all the village-folk came together to gather in the harvest, there was fun to be had. All the youngsters were brought together in a ritual bond by the thrill of chasing the rabbits running from combines and threshers and clubbing them with sticks. It left the girls out of breath, easy victims for youthful boyish pranks. The boys would chase the younger girls, whirling dead rabbits over their heads to scare them. Judd would rub his hands in the fresh warm, bloody carcass of a rabbit mangled by the combine and try to daub the girl’s faces with the blood. Mary Washerman, being the oldest child in the village would be allowed to ride atop the combine where she would sit out of harm’s way and ward off any attempts to involve her in what she considered the childish goings on. Certainly, everyone ate well through the summer, and life was easier, but there was real fun to be had at harvest time with David, or Davey Blacksmith, the smithy’s son, and Jim, the carter’s lad.

***

It was after one such fun filled, exciting day that Judd asked his father, What’s a rent man pa?

A rent man tis the man who collects the rent for the house every week. Why does you ask?

Some of the boys were teasing me because we have a rent man and they don’t. Why doesn’t everyone have a rent man?

Acause some people haves the good fortune to own the house wot they lives in. Not everyone be that blessed.

But, pa, why don’t we own our house? Will Cane thought for a minute and instructed Judd to fetch the playing cards from the kitchen and bring them to the parlor table. He then shuffled the cards and dealt four cards face down to himself and four to Judd. Now tell I your four favorite cards.

The king, the queen the jack and the ace. What are yours, pa? replied Judd.

I don’t got me any favorites. Judd’s father then turned each of Judd’s cards over revealing a four, a two, a ten and a jack. Judd was disappointed at each turn except for the Jack, at which he jumped up with delight. His father then said, watch I carefully. He turned each of his cards stopping to study each one. There were no picture cards.

I won, I won, said Judd.

No, you didn’t. You had three disappointments and one success. I had no disappointments.

But pa I got one card I wanted.

Think about this my boy. Life, tis like a game of cards. If you goes into it expecting reward, you might get a reward every now and then, BUT, you are going to get a lot of disappointment. If you go through life your way, expecting a lot of good things, it will not go your way. If you go through life my way, you will deal with what happens to you more easily, acause there is no disappointment. Do you understand?

I think so pa. It is nice to win though.

Yes, it is, but it is much nicer to live with less disappointment. I calls that ‘Play the cards you’ve been dealt, not the cards you want.

Ok pa, can I go outside now?

***

The English countryside was different from the big cities when it came to highly spirited boys, who carried an air of rebellion. They were given the title of being a lad. While rural village-folk were laid back, they faced the same issues with their youngsters.

As far back as he could remember, Judd Cane’s best friend was Jim, the carter’s lad. Upon reflection, it was Jim who pulled Judd into the more questionable, adventuresome activities that made him a lad as well. Often, they could be found being the ringleaders, instigating a game of ‘Knock Down Ginger’. In this game, children would knock on an unsuspecting villager’s door and run and hide to witness the confused dweller searching for the nonexistent visitor. ‘Scrumping’ was a popular activity in which the boys would allow the braver girls to join in. A lookout would be placed in the vicinity of a fully laden apple, pear or plum tree while the more agile children would climb the tree and throw fruit down to the other children. An alarm from the lookout would send the scrumpers scrambling for cover or run away laughing and giggling, while gloating over their haul. Often the boys would pick the most beguiling girl and have her knock on the front door to ask the time of day if the door was answered, while, the scrumpers would be hiding on the side of the house ready to rush the targeted tree as the lookout child would keep the homeowner’s attention away from them.

After one such raid, Judd was confronted by Mary Washerman. Standing with her hands on her hips she delivered a tirade at him. Judd Cane, you are nothing but a common thief.

Throwing a large red apple towards her Judd replied, I might be that, but who has the apples, me or you? As the apple hit the ground, Mary made no attempt to pick it up.

You, Judd Cane should be ashamed. Your ma would whip your arse if she knew.

Oh yes, and who is going to tell her, you? You might think you’re the prettiest girl in the village, and, you might think you are grown up, but little miss prim doesn’t have as much fun as the rest of us. So, go and tell my mummy, see if I care, said Judd in a sing song voice.

Mary waited for Judd to disappear before picking up the apple and taking a big bite. As the juice ran down her face, she was content and smug in her sense of superiority.

Later that afternoon as Judd laid out his bounty of apples and plums before his mother on the kitchen table he was greeted with, Judd if you aren’t a chip off the old block. Your pa would be proud of this little lot, but if you ever get caught it won’t be pride, he will be showing you. No sir, young man, it will be his belt on your rear end.

But ma, I am just trying to help. Has Mary been telling you tales again?

No, she has not and if this is the way you want to help, instead of working alongside your pa at the mansion, there will be a price to pay.

Ma, I don’t want to work alongside pa. Those big ships that come up the river to London, they, well I, oh ma will pa make me work with him? The pleading voice softened his mother’s scolding tone. Young man, there is plenty of time for you to find your direction. Your pa just wants you to make something of yourself.

Being a servant to someone like the Earl is not exactly being something. I want to be someone, not something.

His mother raised her voice in anger. Don’t you ever talk that way about your pa. He works hard. He is honest and everyone in the village respects him and it will bode you well to do the same.

As Judd ran out the door he shouted back over his shoulder, Not honest enough to refuse the apple pie you will make. The banging door ended the conversation. Walking round the corner of the house to go through the rear garden Judd saw Mary sitting on the swing under a huge oak tree at the end of the garden. She smiled and waved to him, still eating the apple he had thrown to her. Judd felt a flutter inside as he waved back at her and reversed his direction and backed out of sight behind the house. You think you are a princess! Ever since you heard that Queen Victoria is being crowned your head is full of things grand. He called out over his shoulder, more in a whisper than aloud. Will I ever be able to just talk to her and be friends with her? When she looks at me with those big blue eyes, it’s like she is mocking me. He avoided close contact with Mary because she made him nervous and he felt he would never find the words to ‘talk’ with her.

Chapter 3

In 1837, King William IV died and Queen Victoria ascended to the throne of England. The coupling of mourning and celebration around the country was tumultuous, but to many children confusing. Queen Victoria was the first queen in the House of Hanover, and it appeared that a time of great political and social change had arrived. In recent memory, the great sea battles of Trafalgar (1805) and Waterloo (1815) had clearly defined England as a dominant seafaring nation and a colonizing force to be reckoned with. The massive trading ships that plied the great oceans of the world were a regular sight in English waters and docklands. The English Navy enjoyed respect and glory around the world, their control being tenuous at best, as Spain, Portugal, France and Holland’s navys were quickly developing and challenging the British Empire’s grip around the globe.

Naval life was a risky business for the lower-deck sailors and was fraught with corruption and brutality and death. The underbelly of this great war beast was infected with fear, distrust, and dissent, creating a hierarchy of rank and entitlement often based on social and economic ability over seafaring skills. Many ships’ officers’ held positions which bore no relationship to their nautical prowess or lack thereof.

***

At the age of eleven, Judd Cane had been on many middle-of-the-night forays, helping Jim and his dad move crates and boxes and all manner of objects from one farm barn to another, even plundering shipwrecks. It was a thrill to hear Jim banging on his window in the dead of the night, urging Judd to help. Quietly, Judd would creep past his snoring father, asleep in front of the fire’s dying embers, sometimes with his pewter tankard still dangling from his hand. On many occasions, in driving rain and screaming winds, Jim’s dad would head for the great yawning mouth of the River Thames, where it spewed London’s effluent and detritus into the powerful North Sea. He had word that a ship was about to go around on the Gravesend sands, and he had to be there first to pick through whatever came ashore.

It wasn’t until much later that Judd realized the implications of someone knowing a ship was going to wreck before even the sailors did. At his young age, the thrill of scurrying around the beach with salty spray dousing him was enough. To see the huge vessels flounder, roll, and buck and jump as if a wild horse was telling them what to do, was hypnotic. The huge masts would give resounding cracks like cannons being fired as they snapped and crashed into the foam. The screaming of the wind in the rigging and ripping tattered sails ignited Judd’s adrenaline. General flotsam and jetsam, along with crates, bales, bundles, and even loose objects, would wash ashore before the ship finally faltered on the sand bars and rocks.

In Judd’s eyes, Jim and his dad were omniscient. They always seemed to be first on the beach, just waiting to fill their cart and leave. Nobody ever seemed to bother them. Any survivors of the wreck would often lie, too exhausted from their ordeal to offer any objection. It was a tiring adventure, but it never failed to leave Judd full of wonder at the fury of the sea—and yet, at the same time, also full of wonder at the variety of treasure that washed ashore.

The spoils of shipwrecks usually took more time to deliver than to collect. Jim’s father always gave the boys a few big copper pennies that just barely fit into their fists, and a hock of ham or big, fat, lean pork leg, and sometimes even a jug of brandy for Judd’s father and big round cheese for his family as rewards for their efforts. Occasionally, there was even a trinket for his mother. Judd never thought about getting into trouble with his parents for his nocturnal activities until one night he found ma sitting by dying embers in fire grate. Still fully dressed and asleep with her head lolling to one side, Judd saw her jerky reaction to him opening the kitchen door. Sit down young man, was her command. Take off your wet clothes first and wrap up in a blanket. We need to talk.

He presented his bounty of food, and his mother coolly praised his efforts. She gave him a crushing hug in her ample bosom and let him know, as only mothers can, that she cared for him as she pulled a warm woolen blanket around him. As she was placing some coals on the fire Judd knew he was about to get lectured. You do know Judd, that what you are about with Jim and his dad is wrong. It is stealing. I hope you know if the constables find you, pa and I cannot help you, you know that don’t you?

Ma, Jim says that the stuff we pick up belongs to nobody. The dead in the ship have no use for the stuff.

Judd, you’re not a fool. Everything in the world belongs to someone. Just because you don’t know who owns it or the owner is not around doesn’t mean you can take it. It is not yours.

But ma, Jim’s dad says that if we don’t take it someone else will or the tides will destroy it.

In an exasperated tone his mother calmly and pointedly explained again. Judd, you do not own these things. They are not yours. It is no business of yours who owns them. I know you think it a waste to just leave those things there to face destruction by nature, but your pa and I have raised you to be honest. You talk about those big ships that interest you. Do you realize that some of them take men, women and children to Australia? Transport them, for stealing. Doesn’t that scare you, just a little bit?

But I don’t steal ma.

What do you call it when you take something that isn’t yours?

Oh ma, that’s just evening things out. Spreading things around. You have to be out there in the wind and the rain. Hearing the screaming of rigging in the wind and to see those huge ships like dead whales, you don’t think of anything else. I really do have fun. Both Judd and his mother turned to see his father, Will, coming down the stairs with his nightcap sitting askance his head and a weary confused look on his face.

What the heck is going here? he asked. Mother spoke first. I am talking to Judd about these so called, adventures of his.

What about them? demanded Will.

There’s talk around the village that the constables think the plundering of shipwrecks is coming from this village, and I am worried about Judd.

Woman, there is always talk around this village. Sometimes I think all the constables do is start rumors. They are only trying to find out things. Turning to Judd he said, You are old enough to know what you are doing. Your ma’s right enough about the risks. If them is the cards you play, then you live with the consequences. I ain’t saying it’s right. I ain’t saying its wrong. That’s for you to decide. One thing I will tell you boy, when you does something, right or wrong you never tells anyone. Never admit, never deny. If you want to do bad things you better do them alone because, you, are the only one you can trust. Turning to his wife he continued, If you are now concerned about what he’s doing, I think it’s a bit late to start. Thanks to his efforts we have had some mighty fine rewards. Bit late, tis what I say. I’ll tell you one thing, if I see a gold sovereign lying on the road and I know it isn’t mine, I’ll be strange in the head to leave it there for some other lucky sod to pick up, just because it isn’t mine.

You mean you do not care what he does? she fired back.

I do care, but, if he is too high and mighty, or to proud, to learn from me, and work the way I do, to provide for us, that’s his choice. The Earl has been good to us and can be good to him. If Judd wants to travel another road, he is a willing lad and I have faith in him. Sitting across from Judd he went on. Tis sure I know that you are aware of the love I have for your ma. I chose my road for your mother’s peace of mind. We live in an upside down world, and your ma’s way has given you the ability to read and write and with that you are blessed. Not many young un’s in the village can do that. You know your numbers real good, nobody can take that away from you. Right now, you live your life for your way. Be warned that one day you will be willing to live your life for someone else, and that is good. He paused to watch the effect his words may have had on his son. What do you think Mary would say if she knew what you do?

Pa, all the village children know, and what’s so special about Mary?

You only think they know. Most of them are just far too busy with their own lives to worry themselves with you. Now Mary, there’s a smart lass. You are never going to tell me you don’t care about what she thinks. Ma and I see the way you to behave when she is around.

No pa, I don’t care about what Mary thinks.

"Don’t care was made to care my boy. Now, Let’s us all be off to bed, and Judd, keep your life private. Them whats know, can be them what tells. That’s all I got to add. Come to bed Mary, the boy’s good un. We got enough to worry about with the house. I’ll talk to the Earl in the morning about that.

What’s wrong with the house? asked Judd.

Oh, nothing to worry your head about, said his mother. Turning to her husband she continued, You can’t keep your mouth quiet for one moment can you. The boy doesn’t need to know.

Know about what ma, know about what pa? Judd anxiously asked. His father turned around and sat on the stairs and proceeded to explain. Your ma and I have been in this house since we was married. Paid our rent on time every week. Kept the house and yard clean and repaired. Now the rentman has decided that he wants his son to have the house and we have got to move. Don’t know where. Don’t know how, but move we must."

But this is our house pa! Judd cried.

Well, no, t’ain’t, tis our home, but not our ouse. You see son, it’s the rich people what owns the land and the poor folk what rents the houses. Don’t worry yourself. I think the Earl will help us out. There is an empty carriage house that he don’t use no more. I can fix it up good if he lets me. We will talk in the morrow. Now…off to bed.

But pa, does that mean the rent man can make us leave?

I said off to bed with you.

***

At breakfast the next morning Judd asked his father, Pa, are we going to move today?

Now don’t you worry your head about such things. This is grownups business, said his mother.

Will continued, ’tis what keeps the world goin’ round. When you own some fing, you can do with it what you will. Aint nobody can tell you wot to to do with it. Same goes with land and ouses and shops. I, owns me own skills and when I do fings for the Earl, he pays me wot I asks. He can’t make me use me skills and I can’t make ‘im give me money. We trade, wot I got, skills, for wot he’s got, money. That’s business. Do you git it now? Will watched his sons face and could see him digesting what had been said. He got up from the table and with a smile, ruffed up his son’s hair and said, I’s off to do some business wiv the Earl. And he left.

***

Judd and Jim, the Carter’s lad, sat on grassy slope on a hillside looking out over the hamlet of Lower Mucking that was between them and the river. The hamlet was small compared to Mucking but was on the river’s edge. On the edge of the great sands lay the destroyed wreck they had been at the night before. Its shattered hull lay on one side with its bow torn off. The rigging and masts were a tangled mess and all was calm. The site struck Judd as odd against the background of great sailing ships making their way in and out of London. The Thames was so wide that two and three ships would pass each other as if racing to be the first to get to the North Sea. With the sun on their faces and stiff breeze the boys seemed hypnotic. The silence was broken by Jim as he said, You are fascinated by these ships ain’t you Judd?

The ships, as they sail off to other lands, seem so strong and indestructible. They are, I don’t know, it’s like they know something we don’t.

What the heck are you talking about? retorted Jim.

I would think that it must be exciting to work on a ship and see places we only read about and to see foreign lands. I’m not saying I want to do it, but it sure makes me think.

Jim asked, Would you want to go to sea?

Oh, I don’t know. Me ma would never hear of it, so it’s no good even dreaming about it.

Dream about it! Are you doo lally? They say men die at sea. To bloody scary for me.

Judd thought for a moment and turned to Jim and asked, Seriously, Jim, want to go the docks, the East India Docks tonight and look at the ships? Maybe we can get on one to have a look.

Sounds good to me, but me dad an’ me is going to do a carting job tonight and we will be staying in Harwich. How about tomorrow?

I’ll see," replied Judd.

Chapter 4

Some two months later, as Judd lay in the sweltering summer heat of his room and listened to the sounds of the young village girls, the Blacksmith girls, the three Carter girls, and Davey Blacksmith’s two sisters screeching and giggling, he longed for his own excitement. If only Jim’s dad would send Jim for him.

As the dusky evening folded around, the sound of reveling villagers on the green in front of the tavern drifted across the night air. Chirping crickets combined with the flapping sound of bats wings as they chased the night insects invaded Judd’s ears, crowding out his own thoughts. Judd suddenly decided go to Tilbury docks across from Gravesend. As he crept from the house, he calculated the journey would take him about half an hour. If he was nimble, he would have time to see some of the big ships intact and up close, and be back in bed before anyone awoke. Judd moved quickly and quietly, slipping out of the door, keeping his eye on his father, who snored loudly by the black, sooty, empty fireplace.

Tilbury, home to the East India dockside, was a swarming hive of activities. Merchant ships of all shapes and sizes came up the Thames Estuary to dock and off-load their cargo from China, Africa, and India before turning back out to sea. As Judd drew nearer, the names of these faraway places bounced around in his head, only to be interrupted by the flashing lighthouse out on the head of the Thames Estuary. Often, he had seen frigates and gunboats from the Royal Navy coming upriver to Gravesend, where the Queen’s navel men and the merchantmen sailors would mix.

There was a sinister reason behind the surface camaraderie between the sailors. Judd would only come to learn of this later. It wasn’t long before Judd was winding in and out of the cargo sheds, smelling, seeing, and drinking in the world that was so far from his rural life. There were people that his young mind could only imagine. Yellow men with long, wispy beards and little eyes that frightened Judd, squinting at him and speaking in a strange language, big, ugly men, like bears, with drawings all over their arms and heads, and some with long beards and greased, platted hair. The pipe tobacco smoke, liquor smells, and other exotic aromas that wafted through this place overloaded his senses. Something about this cataclysmic aura enveloped him.

Two boys who appeared to be about Judd’s age played a card game on an upturned tea chest. As Judd watched them, a crowd gathered, reminding him of the end of market day in the village, when all the farmers and traders would pack up their wagons and sit around drinking and laughing. Somehow, he still felt safe.

The smell of an old barque with three masts holding up yardarms with tightly furled sails stimulated his senses and set his imagination spinning. He had read in the penny newspapers that these were the smaller, fast ships that pirates liked to use. The caravels were only a little bigger than the barques, and they were preferred by explorers. The square riged masts and larger sails enabled them to go greater distances and faster. Seeing the great array of ships stretched out in front of him brought his readings to life. Today, there were not one, but two galleons. To Judd these ships were huge. The cargo coming off these decks looked as if it was almost enough to sink the ship. Judd wondered why pirates would attack galleons like these. When he saw the huge canons ,these ships carried for defense, he began to think how brave the pirates must have to be to face this foe.

Judd saw two smaller square-rigged ships that were moored alongside each other. They were narrow-stern ships that sat low in the water. Judd approached two sailors standing on the dockside. Excuse me sir, would it be possible to come aboard? I have never been on a ship before.

That aint no ship, said one of the sailors, pointing to a huge ship tied alongside the freighter. The HMS Vanguard, now, that’s a ship, a battleship no less, and if you was, to be quick about it and run across the deck of this ere Soldado said he naming the small ship that was tied up between the warship and the dock. We will show you a real warship. The men gathered around roared with laughter at his comments. They hoisted Judd over the gunwale onto the Soldado’s deck and quickly crossed the deck. With a flourish, they lifted him over the gunales of both ships, and hoisted him onto the deck of the HMS Vanguard.

Looking over his shoulder, Judd noticed the sailors on the Soldado appeared less organized and more casual in their demeanor than the sailors on the Vanguard. Even though a group of sailors sat around the deck, laughing and joking, there was an air of seriousness about this ship, with the cannons tied down to the decks, the ropes coiled, and the brass shining. Some sailors spliced ropes. Some coiled and stowed supplies. The ship was cleaner than Judd had ever expected. The sense of purpose stirred something in him. This ship smelled, as did all the ships berthed here, but this smell along with the cannons lined along the decks left no doubt this really was a warship.

Why are the guns tied up? Judd asked more to the air around him than anyone specific.

Them’s cannons, boy, cannons aint no guns. You don’t want them rolling around all over the place at sea. Could take yer leg off, was the reply from someone.

Is that mast one tree trunk?

Tis indeed. The best English Oak, best in the world if you ask me.

This is the biggest ship, warship - I have ever seen, Judd said full of awe.

Tis the newest, biggest, fastest and most powerful warship of Her Majesties Navy. Ain’t nuffin like it. We is bigger than anything the Frenchies, the Spaniards or anyone else is got.

Judd slowly turned around full circle taking in everything that lay before him. A sailor pushed an upturned crate and invited Judd to sit.

Ow old is you boy? the sailor asked.

I’m not a boy. My name is Judd, Judd Cane and I am eleven years old, nearly twelve. Judd relaxed as the men around him laughed.

Then you is old enough to be a sailor, commented another sailor. Another elbowed the one that had spoken and hissed, Shut yer gob. The bosun’ll ave yer. Judd did not hear this exchange.

One of the sailors, who frightened Judd with his leathery face and blackened teeth, offered Judd his tankard as he said The Master at Arms seed fit to let the boy see our ship, so that’s good enough for me. Where you from young master Judd?

Mucking sir, Mucking that is, not Lower Mucking.

Well Judd, Welcome aboard. Join us in a toast to her Majesty. This, is a real man’s drink. The king’s best rum.

Another laughed and said, This is not yer kings. ’E’s dead and gone. We be got a queen now, Victoria. Drink to ’er, me boyo, if you can.

Bravado swelled in Judd’s chest. He had tasted rum once before, on a cold night out with Jim and his dad. This tankard felt heavy in his hand even though there was only a small amount of liquid in it. Lifting the tankard to his lips he took a sip and recognized the sweet pungent odor and flavor. Taking another sip, he heard the sailors chant ‘God save the Queen.’ As he drained the last drop, a gold sovereign tumbled onto his lips. He quickly grabbed it before it fell to the ground. This alone, he knew, was worth many of those big copper pennies Judd had earned from Jim, but still he asked, innocently, What is this?

A huge barrel of a man, the sailor who looked to be in charge, stood up, looked at Judd, and said, That’s the queen’s sovereign, boy. Do you know what it means?

Judd smiled and said, I guess it means I’m rich.

The reply was firm, cold, and authoritarian in its delivery, No, laddy. You just took the queen’s golden sovereign. That means you are now the queen’s man. Welcome to the Royal Navy. Judd suddenly felt two huge hands grab his arms and lift him clear of the deck. Take him below bosun. Put him in the brig ’til we sail.

Hey! Put me down! What are doing? You can have the sovereign, Judd yelled.

The man who gave the order smiled and said, Keep it, young man, you is going to earn it, and you may need it. Give it to any of these scum and it won’t see the light o’ day ag’in. Alright boys there’s no need to be so rough, you’re both bigger than him. We have him. Take him below.

What are you doing, where am I going? Please let me go.

One of the sailors taking him below deck told him in a quiet calm voice, You is now a pressed man Mr. Judd. That means you are now a sailor for Her Majesty Queen Victoria and will serve her on this or any ship she pleases.

I don’t even know the Queen Sir. Why would she do this?

It’s just the way things is done in the navy nowadays, was the answer as Judd writhed and wriggled trying to escape their grip. As he was taken below decks it became darker and more ominous to Judd’s young mind. One of the sailors spoke with a firm and threating tone. Now look ere boy, quit the hollering. Aint no one going to come to yer aid. This ain’t ‘ell, it’s just seems like it. If’n the bosun thinks you is going to give trouble, he will give you trouble pretty quick to slow you down.

As Judd went quiet to listen, the other sailor said, Many of us was pressed men. We was all scared, like what you is now. If you’ aves any sense in that young ‘ed of yours you will be quiet and calm down. ‘twill be better for you.

Judd had no time to understand what was happening before he saw a large, solid door, as wide as a stable’s, slam behind him. He sat in darkness and started to cry, not to himself but out loud and mournfully, like an animal in a cage, which, of course, is what he was. After a long period of shouting and banging on the door Judd became tired. He lay on his back and pounded his feet on the heavy door, gradually settling down to rhythmic thump. As the ominous silence and darkness and exhaustion overwhelmed him, he fell asleep.

The fast-growing British Empire was ever in need of more men at sea. Even the implementation of Samuel Pepys’s modern and inventive changes did little to attract the large numbers needed to staff the great new warships, but Judd didn’t know that.

Sometime later the movement of the deck beneath his feet and unfamiliar sounds woke Judd up. All Judd knew was that just a short time ago he was in the village, smelling the fragrances of the new harvest drifting through his window and tasting the sweet sickly rabbit’s blood on his fingers. He recalled the idle chatter of the children playing outside his window. He wished he could be back there. How would his parents know what had happened? Who would tell them? Could they help him?

The big ship’s steady, rolling movement did little to allay his terror. Examining his surroundings assisted by chinks of light coming through the brig’s walls where the large thick planks met, Judd realized ‘the brig’ was like the etchings he had seen of prison dungeons. This one was wood, had a low ceiling, and was very small. There were manacles fixed around the wall. Some were up high and some were close to the ground. The floor showed that it had been scrubbed many times as it was softer than the walls and smooth to his touch. He saw a small iron barred grate above his head in the door. Reaching up to grip the bars, he pulled himself high enough to push his face between them. There were voices, and men scurrying about, all were paying no mind to his shouts for help. A sailor approached the door and told Judd to back away so that he could come inside.

Why did you put me in here? What I have I done to you? Are you letting me go free? demanded Judd without waiting for an answer.

The sailor towered over Judd as he backed him into a corner. Judd sank to the floor and pulled his knees up to try and protect himself.

You had better keep yer mouth shut and speak only when you is spoken to. Twernt me what put ‘ere. Twas the bosun and what he says, goes. As I sees it, yer got two choices, one, do as you is told or, two, spend the next six years in this ‘ole. Makes yer choice, right now. The man backed away to allow Judd to stand. Turning and leaving the brig he held the door open and with a mock bow and wave of the arms he said, So w’ats your choice, Master Cane, one or two?"

Judd moved cautiously from his corner and slinked past the sailor. Quickly looking around him, he saw no way of escape. The sailor knew what he was doing and approached him with both hands held up, palm outwards. In a gesture of peace, he spoke in a less boisterous tone.

Look ‘ere Cane, I know things is lookin’ pretty bleak right now. You aint the first pressing I’ve seen, an’ I’m sure you won’t be the last. But the truth is you aint gonna get nowhere fighting. The navy is bigger than you and me, and all these men put together. We is ‘ere and we is going to be ‘ere together for a long time. Now, I gots me own problems, and you, you gots your own problems. Sure, don’t make no sense for us to ‘ave problems wiv each uver.

My ma and pa don’t know where I am. I want to go home. What am I going to do? pleaded Judd. You stole me, that’s what you did, you stole me from my family.

I didn’t do nothing of the sort. You took the Queens sovereign. No man made you take it. Them’s the rules.

I was tricked. I didn’t know that’s what it meant. Judd was now gaining a little courage.

"Life is gonna trick you a lot more afore your done