Chapter 7.

Dover, Kent.

Jacob watches quietly as the last horse drawn wagon is loaded with the cargo from the West and East indies.

The goods are shipments that he’s come to offload at the Dover docks, where one of his ships sailing from both the Americas and East Indies have docked.

Large shipments of tobacco, rum, sugar, spices, tea and deluxe fabrics of the finest qualities and designs have been loaded unto the ship.

One out of his fleet of ships that sails the seas. Travelling the Americas, the Mediterranean, the Caribbean, Portugal and Spain.

The ships also visit the Arab regions, bringing back goods fit for sultans. The intimidating ships that surround Jacob, don’t help to cast off the chill that travels through his body.

Even his brown garrick coat does nothing to dispel the morning chill. It's nine in the morning, from Jacob’s pocket watch.

The crew members and his brother have been working since before dawn (long before he arrived), offloading the ship. Stocking the goods into their two Dover warehouses. And now they are finally nearing the end of the task.

“Why again did we listen to your suggestion to dock here?” Joseph says sarcastically beside Jacob.

The smell of fish, the dirty docks and unwashed men should force any other gentleman to cast out all his insides.

But Jacob and Joseph have gotten used to this. A means to an end. Their lives as top merchants, whose worlds thrive on the seas.

“We both know that the London Docks are always, terribly congested. At least with this we only have to travel three days to get the needed goods back to the London warehouses, while the others stay here in Dover until we need restocking.” Jacob asserts, his eyes holding equal tease.

His brother stubs his tobacco roll beneath one foot. His face reminding Jacob of their elder brother. Jacob shakes his head again, to dispel the sadness.

“I still think we should have docked at London. At least we wouldn’t have to spend these many hours loading these ware houses.” He shifts weary eyes across the road, where four of the loaded wagons have already travelled.

Carrying goods for restocking.

The congested London Ports are causing much damages to vessels, each time commercial ships, like theirs, dock in the yards.

Their Merchant company, ‘The Three Brothers,’ is a thriving international business that boasts a fleet of fifteen ships, which sails the seas. Purchasing highly demanded goods and bringing them into England, where wholesalers come to make their purchases.

Their trading business doesn’t only cater to the needs of England. Other countries equally patronize their rare goods. The profits, increasing their vast coffers as well as their reputation.

Most of the goods, exotic items, which Jacob and Joseph use to enhance the aesthetics of their club, Cavendish.

Of course he is aware the enormity of work it entails loading the Dover warehouses, instead of just cutting labor and loading the warehouses at one location.

But in the process of saving labor by docking in London, the probability of losing parts or all of the ship to an accident, costing them much, is greater.

A complete loss.

At this rate, all they have to pay for is the cost of securely transporting the more urgent cargo to their London warehouses, as well as labor for stocking the warehouses in Dover and London.

Jacob shakes his head in amusement and turns to Joseph.

“You are still the same whining little brother that you were when you first joined this business, you know.”

His smile is teasing as he playfully remarks.

Joseph wears a smirk on his face as he replies.

“And you love me as I am, brother. That is why I was always your favorite among the three of us.”

His tone suddenly grows rueful as those words leave his lips.

A cloud of emotions; regret and sadness fall upon the brothers as they recall Jonathan. Their brother.

If only things hadn’t been left the way they had.

A loud bang comes from behind them, shifting the grief. One of the ship’s crew members dropped one of the barrels that contains sugar.

“Careful with that, Jack! You break anything and it gets off you pay!” The loud voice of Captain Knox, booms from beside the brothers as he draws up beside them.

Captain to this particular ship, he is a hard man to deal with. But he and Jacob have run this business for years now and have grown used to each other.

Captain Knox, a former privateer of the crown, was dismissed from the crown’s navy, due to his inability to follow the commands of his superiors.

Dejected and wallowing in his grief, his only solace, his pints of alcohol, he had found Jacob’s offer of work as a miracle. Even though he never believed in miracles.

But that night at the pub in London, when a twenty-three-year-old Jacob approached him to man a vessel for him across the English Channel, he had encountered a miracle.

“Knox, when do you estimate the ship from Lebanon would arrive?” Jacob asks, his tone serious, as he absently watches the men load the wagon.

The crisp air only makes him wish for a snifter of burning brandy. Perhaps he could crack open a barrel and open one of the bottles of rum to quell his chill.

“I reckon Captain Twist would be arriving in a few weeks.” Captain Knox declares, his eyes beaming with all his years of experience.

“The sea’s being a tad bit vengeful these few months. Most ships wrecking on her high tides, never to be seen again. Be grateful you still have a smooth and sailing fleet of ships, Ya Grace."

Jacob nods his head. Inwardly agreeing to the man’s confession.

Many ships wrecked, their crew lost forever and he is lucky to have not suffered any considerable losses in all his years as a sea merchant.

Turning around in the direction of the unmarked carriage that he arrived in, he suggests they head off to study the Ship’s manifesto.