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it wouldn’t do to have the men gettin’ fat on flavor, or eatin’ fer any other reason other than to stay alive.” In spite of his fear of his strange surroundings, William smiled at Smith’s description, and felt some of his tension drain away.
    “You’ll start at mid evenin’ shift, so’s the breakfast is ready by dawn.” Smith pointed ahead of them deeper into the gloom. “Down there’s the slings.”
    The ‘slings’ proved to be narrow strips of stained canvas strung in the fashion of hammocks that were hooked from the rafters of the deck flooring above their heads. Row after row of the grimy sheets swung from the ropes, in rhythm with the ship’s sway. Most rows had two layers of the makeshift beds strung one above the other. A few were occupied, the sailors’ arms and legs hanging over the edges, with the width of a sling being roughly only the space between a man’s shoulder blades. Thinner sailors obviously slept more securely and comfortably in these contraptions.
    “When you’re off shift, grab an empty one,” Smith instructed. “Best to choose one what’s highest up, but give her a shake just the same.”
    “A shake?”
    “Fer dumpin’ cooties and such off ‘afore lyin’ yer own noggin down amongst them.” Smith saw William’s face cloud in confusion. “It’s to rid yer sling of the little buggers and chiggers what’s fallen off from the lad who slept there ‘afore ya;–do ya’ not know even a single thing?” Smith asked exasperatedly.
    “I’ve never sailed,” William replied. “Never been on a stinkin’ boat of any kind. I’m not a sailor. I’m–”
    “You’ll learn, and for yer sake, you’d best be a quick study. You’re a lander fer now, but you’ll be a sailor too. And probably will be for the rest of yer life.” With an upward shrug of his eyebrows Smith added, “However short that may be.”

 
    William followed Smith through the innards of the ship, its unfamiliarity closing in on him like a poisonous fog. The two of them reached a ladder, which rose through an apparent hatch in the roof, up to the next level of the ship. “This here’s the com-panionway to the main deck, so stay close,” Smith instructed William.
    The daylight was nearly blinding after coming from the darkened midlevel. The fresh sea air, however, was as sweet a thing as William could ever remember inhaling. Each breath was warm and clear, filling William’s lungs with an unexpected sense of pleasure, washing the stew of below-deck stench from his nostrils and lungs.
    He squinted into the sunlight, his eyes tearing up in response to the brightness of it all. Overhead, an airborne maze of riggings supported the white canvases of huge sails which boomed and snapped in response to the wind’s prodding. The riggings were alive with sailors, all scurrying up, down, and sideways, as gracefully as hungry spiders inspecting a web. Beyond the sails, the vast blueness of the sky stretched to the horizon in all directions. Days with such a clear sky were precious few back on the coastline of Britain. William stared in amazement.
    With his eyes having fully adjusted to the light of day, he looked around at his strange new world. The open deck was bustling with young men.
    “Them right here are doin’ drills,” Smith pointed out, “and it’s just such drills what’s supposed to make our Brits such a formidable fightin’ force.” He nodded towards the other end of the open deck. “And them there are doin’ the endless chores what keeps the Navy’s fleet afloat.”
    Twenty or so crew members, some not much older than William himself, marched in unison along the back lines of the deck, handling their weapons in a perfectly choreographed routine, all moving as one body in a synchronized fashion. “Them boys there be the marines,” Smith explained. “They’ll be runnin’ their drills every day and when they be done with that, it’ll be a wee bit of trainin’ fer the rest of us.