Tillamook Passage. Brian MD Ratty
in the second week of May, Mr. Crumwell approached my desk and announced that Mr. Barrel wanted to see me in his office. Putting on my coat and straightening my blouse, I slowly crossed the large room. Along the way, I could feel the eyes of my startled coworkers. The only other time I had been in Mr. Barrel’s office was when I was first hired, and the others seemed to assume that being summoned now could only be a bad omen.
I knocked softly on the door and heard from the other side, “Enter.”
As I swung the door open, my heart was pounding like a rainstorm. The inner room looked smaller than I remembered but was still filled with books and nautical whatnots. Mr. Barrel’s hand carved teak desk was enormous. Just behind it, a large window looked out over the wharves.
Mr. Barrel himself was seated behind his desk, chewing on a cigar while he read a piece of paper. And across from him sat Captain Gray.
I stared at him in surprise, realizing that he must have slipped in while I was out running an errand for Mr. Crumwell. Coming to a stop in front of the desk, I stood there for a long moment while Mr. Barrel continued to read. My employer was a big man, dressed in a black coat with a frilled silk blouse. His face was round, and he had a full head of dark brown hair. But it was his long, dark mustache that everyone’s gaze was drawn to. He always reminded me of a drawing of a walrus that I had once seen.
Putting the paper down, Mr. Barrel looked up at me. “Captain Gray tells me that you want to sign on for our expedition.”
“Yes, sir,” was my quick reply.
“Well, there have been a few changes to our venture. Captain Gray will be commanding the sloop Lady Washington and will be second in command on the expedition. Captain John Kendrick will be the Commodore, commanding the ship Columbia. Because of these changes, and other circumstances, I am going to look favorably on his request. Beginning on the first of September, you will be placed in his employ on the sloop. Until that time, you will remain in your current position as my clerk. Is that satisfactory, Mr. Blackwell?”
With gusto, I answered, “Yes, sir!”
Mr. Barrel seemed surprised by my loud answer, and a tight smile crossed his lips.
Captain Gray inserted, “I told you he was earnest.”
Shaking his head, Mr. Barrel continued, “You will not be required to sign the ship’s articles, because you will be working directly for Captain Gray. If he promotes you to a seaman during the voyage, you can sign the articles then.”
Later, I learned that Mr. Barrel had formed a company by selling fourteen shares at $3,500 each. Mr. Barrel had subscribed to four shares, while five other Boston businessmen had purchased two shares apiece. That capital, a total of $49,000, was being used to purchase, refit, and supply the two ships for the expedition. It had been those other partners who convinced Mr. Barrel to hire Captain Kendrick as Commodore, because they felt he was more experienced. At the time, they had no notion of the folly of that decision.
Standing, Mr. Barrel extended his hand to me across the desk. “I wish you fair winds and a following sea. May this venture be profitable for all.”
Shaking his firm grip, I answered, “Aye, aye, sir.” Then, turning to Captain Gray, who had also stood, I offered him the same handclasp.
Just then, I heard the office door open. When I turned that way, I saw Miss Becky gliding through the doorway. She was wearing a pale green dress with a white lace collar and a dark-green feathered bonnet. Her beauty took my breath away and turned my tongue to stone.
In a sweet, soft tone, she said, “Hello, Father. Hello, Captain Gray. So nice seeing you again.”
Then she glanced my way, and I heard Mr. Barrel say, “This is Mr. Joseph Blackwell. After clerking for us for a number of years, he has just signed on with Captain Gray for our expedition. Mr. Blackwell, this is my daughter, Becky.”
She extended her small hand to me. “How nice to finally meet you, Mr. Blackwell. I’ve noticed your red hair many times…and now you’re going to sail away.”
Shaking her soft, gloved hand, I was afraid she would notice the cold sweat on my brow as I meekly answered, “Thank you, Miss Becky. Nice to meet you.”
“That will be all, Mr. Blackwell,” I heard Mr. Barrel say.
Backing out of the room, I bowed and thanked everyone. By the time I closed the door behind myself, I was about ready to explode. Miss. Becky had noticed my hair and had talked to me. I could not believe the pounding of my heart!
LADY WASHINGTON
IT WAS HARD, RETURNING TO MY CLERKING duties with the knowledge that in a few months I would be at sea. And those months seemed to drag on and on, with the only news of the venture coming from Mr. Crumwell. In late June, he told me that both the Columbia and the Lady Washington were receiving extensive repairs and reconditioning in a shipyard up the coast. He added that the work was proceeding on schedule and should be completed by the end of August. That bit of news lifted my spirits and filled my head with visions of what was to come.
On the third of July, I turned nineteen. I mention this for only one reason: it wasn’t our family’s tradition to celebrate birthdays. On this occasion, however, both my brother and father gave me a gift, and we had a gleeful time. My brother had stitched a leather pouch for me, complete with shoulder strap. The inside was for my drawing paper and charcoals, so that I could bring back sketches of where I went and what I saw. He had even added two small compartments that were for my flute halves, so that I might always have my music by my side. It was a heartfelt gift, one I deeply appreciated.
But my father’s gift was the most surprising. He had forged a steel and bronze sea-knife for me. The steel blade was nine inches long and razor sharp on one edge, while the other edge was deeply serrated, good for what he called “gutting fish or fowl.” The hilt of the steel was riveted between two pieces of bronze and flattened on the butt end for cracking or pounding. The grip was tightly wrapped with leather cord to insure a good grasp. He had even stitched a leather sheath, made from some scraps from the pouch, so that I could hang the knife on my hip. It was a beautiful piece of workmanship, and it caused me to ponder my opinion of father. While he didn’t count for much, maybe he cared for me, after all.
In the middle of August, the local newspapers ran stories about the upcoming venture and how the owners had petitioned the Continental Congress for a sea-letter that explained the peaceful nature of the voyage. Such a letter was granted, and days later a similar document was secured from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Then the owners had commemorative coins and medallions struck that would be carried by the Columbia for distribution at places we touched along our route. While only the owners were named in the stories, the undertaking had gained great public support, and I was proud to be a part of it. Even my father and brother seemed impressed.
With my pouch on my shoulder and the sea-knife on my hip, I reported, as instructed, to the deck watch of the sloop two hours after sunrise on September 1, 1787. Actually, in my excitement, I showed up an hour early. With the morning fog lifting, I saw both ships moored across Commercial Street from the offices of Mr. Barrel. The docks beside the ships were stacked with containers, bales, and barrels, which I navigated in my search for a good view. Through the moving mist, the Lady Washington was dwarfed by the Columbia in size and sails, but I found the sloop as sleek as a sea bird, with gentle lines and bright colors. Her single mast towered over her deck, and her timbers looked clean and freshly painted. She was big, as big as any sloop I had ever seen, and she pulled on her moorings and moaned loudly, seeming eager to sail. I stood on the dock a good long time, gazing at her lines and dreaming of adventure. Finally, I walked up the dock to her bow, and then paced slowly to her stern, noting every detail of her construction and rigging.