The Captains

By Robert Green

A young boy’s adventure of serving on a merchant ship in the mid 1600’s begins only by chance when he must leave London at 12 years old and move to his grandfather’s house near the sea. These changes open an entirely new life for him where there is world travel, excitement, and a pathway to success. The adventures take him to lands he had barely begun to study in school yet once exposed he knew very soon that this would be the life for him. An amazing life where an opportunity presented itself and even at 12 years of age, he recognized it as something exciting, new, yet challenging, lonely at times, and frightening at times yet he able transcend his fears and excel. His will to perform every job to the best of his ability along with his insatiable thirst for learning allows him recognition at the highest level. This quest provides for further opportunity as it leads to a serendipitous meeting that changes his life even more.

This book and its stories were created through my dreams where the question that begs for an answer “what would I have been if I lived in 1650”? With multiple dreams spawning this story, the next question to be answered is “Are these dreams just a collection of stories I have read or seen or if this of my actual past?”. Regardless of the answer, the adventures were all that a growing boy could dream about living in places he had never been in a time he had never known.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outskirts Press
• Release date: Feb 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781977263551

Robert Green

He is the father of three children along with his wife Ana, a worshiper from an early age, as well as a composer, writer, and vocalist of the musical group Barak, nominated for the Latin Grammy with his album "Generación Radical" (Radical Generation). He founded the Green Music record house. He was born in Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic and congregates in the church "Tabernáculo de Adoración" (Tabernacle of Worship).

Book preview

The Captains

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2023 Robert Green

v2.0

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.

http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-9772-6355-1

Cover Photo © 2023 www.gettyimages.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the OP logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

This book is dedicated to few friends that helped me, in many ways, during my journey through this life. Mr. Wally Wasinack, Mrs. Blanche Chester, Mr. Bill Woods, and Mr. Anthony Donato. I thank them for their wisdom, support, advice, and long-lasting friendships.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

FOREWORD

THE BEGINNING

ELEVENTH OF ANNE

A DAY MADE THE DIFFERENCE

ON DECK

2:00 A.M.

PLYMOUTH

THE BAY OF BISCAY

BACK IN CARDIFF

THE LONG VOYAGE

BACK TO CARDIFF

AUX CAYES AT MIDNIGHT

FORTY DAYS

CARDIFF III

ICE

JAPAN AND BEYOND

NORTH TO KINGSTON

PORT ROYAL

FOREWORD

We all experience dreams. Some of them are good and soothing, while some take us back to our childhood or other important times and/or events. Some contain terror and fear, while others are full of laughter and fun. Others warn of what may be coming, like fire, flood, war, or even death. It seems that they are mostly made of memories, either from yesterday or yesteryear, and when we awake, some of them are remembered so clearly and are seemingly real. In contrast, others cannot be recalled at all other than knowing that a dream once existed.

Most of my dreams dig into my memories and are of the soothing type. However, some of the ones of terror or nightmares cause me to prepare so that I might avoid the possibility of these moments occurring in my life, like preparing for a disaster, a fight, or the loss of a friend or loved one. In some ways, those dreams serve a good purpose. I have experienced dreams that find solutions to problems that I carry for a day, a week, or even months, and suddenly, an answer comes out of nowhere. Those types of dreams I call planning or solution dreams as they seem to bring me everything I need to know or do in a picture form. In others, I have even died. Some are horrible deaths, and others occur quickly, without fear.

The important dreams for me, though, are the ones that use manufactured memories. Events that have never happened but come to life in a restless night where fantasy, hopes, wishes, and a dash of reality all combine to create a memory and a story that never existed yet, seem as real as the life I live today. Some of them, like this, occur repeatedly, and some even begin where last night’s dream ended, and the story continues.

The birth of this book is from one of those dreams turned into a story. I can only describe it as if I were or am a throwback . . . a throwback to some person who has been passed down in my genes that created this dream about living in some other time and what I would be and where I would be in a time I have never known and in places I have never been. Was I reincarnated? Other than that, I can only speculate that it was created from things I have read, seen, or heard that was wrapped in a romantic idea which may be real or may be horribly wrong in facts, beginning with the fact that Queen Anne was not the reigning queen during most of this period. However, again, it is a dream. It is where my imagination lives and becomes my story. My dreams give me comfort at night when my days in this life have been troublesome.

As you read, remember that these are clips of my dreams that, when seen together over time, form a semblance of a complete life and story that eventually ends. I hope all who read this will understand that this is my dream, not the dream of the characters that live inside this story. Also, I hope you have dreams that give you solace in a world that is sometimes filled with chaos. It is a place where I can escape.

Finally, it is not to be construed that this book is a lesson in history or seamanship. This is a fabrication brought into a story by a writer who has speculated on these questions: What would I have been if I lived in the 1600s or 1700s? What would I have been? Or even the speculation of What was I back then?

THE BEGINNING

Standing in such a large room of the Talbot House can be somewhat overwhelming to a boy of twelve. My aunt Muriel often said, You’re a tall boy for your age and quite a handsome lad, I must say. I believe I also had a bit more girth than most of my schoolmates. But my size still seems quite small when standing in this room. Looking around where I stood, I noticed the wooden beams were thick and dark in color. They seemed so old, as if they had been here for hundreds of years, and were not smooth in their cut. Yet, so many scratches, dents, and chips gave them a character of strength and age. I was in awe as I continued to glance at the many pieces of furniture and decorations in the room.

The warmth of the fire from the unsplit logs in the fireplace caused a flickering light that gave way to strange shadows on the ceiling and the walls, peaceful yet somewhat terrifying at the same time. The fear was from the fact that I had only met my grandfather once and had only seen one picture of him that hung in the main room of our flat in London. I did not know what to expect. I continued looking around at the rock surrounding the fireplace that reached the high ceiling above the mantle. Not even having the skill yet to wonder how they built this, I knew that it made me feel like I was somewhere very unique, somewhere very special, and the one who lived here must be very important. Curiously, I looked at a desk that had two quills lying on it. A calendar was laid out, and it easily identified this day with a tiny statue of a soldier standing strong as if he were defending this very square. Saturday, May 25, 1647.

It has been three days since my mother, Mercia, dropped me off at the coach station in London. The ride to Cardiff was rough and very long. As we moved along the rugged road, I swayed, and, at times, my left shoulder would hit the side of the coach very hard. I must say it was painful. This was very tiring, and the roughness of it made it very difficult to sleep, so I just watched as we passed beneath the trees in and out of the forested areas. On one occasion, I must have been so exhausted I fell into a deep sleep, even to the point where, when I awoke, I was on the floor of the coach! Then, quickly, I gathered myself and sat back in my seat by the window. I was glad that I was the only passenger.

We changed horses and drivers at Coyote Station and then at the main station in Swindon overnight. I wanted to explore Swindon, but I was so tired I only made it to the bed assigned to me, and I fell asleep straight on. The next day would be just as long, and they told me to get plenty of sleep if I could. That part was not difficult to accomplish.

The next night, we arrived in Cardiff but needed to stay overnight at the Farer Station since we arrived so late. Again, we changed horses and drivers two times during the trip. In the morning, I heard someone calling my name at the station. Reynold Thayer, looking for Reynold Thayer.

As I walked toward the caller, I saw a very tall, lean man dressed in all black. I looked up at him and said, I am Reynold. He said his name was Thomas, and he was to take me to the captain’s estate. He said it was called Talbot House. It was only about a two-hour ride this time, and I was happy to know that I would not be traveling again, at least for a few days.

I was full of mixed emotions and felt nervous, even somewhat scared. Yet, I was happy I was here. My mother called this the castle, but I was still too young to realize the meaning. But it was easy to know that this house was huge, and I could not touch the ceiling, even on a ladder, as I did at home. It was true that I didn’t recall being inside of a house this large as the room I was standing in was much larger than our entire flat where we lived in London. My mother told me I would stay for a while with my grandfather, Talbot Leverton, but I understood that, to most people in this area and especially his friends and family, he was just called Captain. The captain is my mother’s father. She told me that my grandmother had died years before and that I would be cared for by a woman who would act as my nanny during my stay.

I have been here for almost three hours now, yet only a woman dressed as a cleaning woman has addressed me and escorted me to a room where I, as she said, should wait. She said the captain would be home soon. However, after sitting for only a short time, I needed to move, to explore this wonderful feeling I had about being here.

As I stood watching the flames of the fire dance and create shadows on the walls and ceiling, I looked up. I noticed the mantle where several pictures were hanging and a few odd-looking instruments that looked intriguing, and I instinctively knew they were important. A picture of a man was there that I believed to be either my grandfather or maybe even my great-grandfather.

I had not seen my grandfather since I was around the age of five, and even then, it was for just a short time as he was in London visiting my mother but only stayed long enough to have tea. I vaguely remember him talking to my mother as they sat at the small table in the kitchen. His voice was deep, almost as if he was growling but not in anger. It was that his voice was just that way. He seemed scary, but he also laughed with my mother as they talked.

When he left our flat, he made sure to find me and give me a good handshake as he told me that I was growing up to be a fine boy. As I stood there being warmed by the fire, my eyes kept moving back to those instruments. What are they? What are they used for?

I did not know how long I was to be here, but the cases carrying my belongings numbered five and were quite large. I suspected that my mother had packed everything that was mine. I wondered why so much since I usually had only a small bag containing a few changes of clothes when we traveled before. Now, this. What was happening?

ELEVENTH OF ANNE

1647

The hatch to the cargo compartment swung open and slammed hard and loud onto the deck, even though the captain had warned of the actions he would take on the next mate to be so careless. The mate was startled, for it was a terrible accident as the damp wood slipped away from his small, wet hands, and he knew that everyone on deck heard the crash. However, the captain was not sympathetic.

Bring that boy to me. Two of the captain’s mates escorted the boy to the captain. The mate groveled on his knees. "It was an accident, Captain. It will never