Chapter, the First -- My early years and subsequent entrance into the trade.
I, Richard William Poole, was born in the year of our Lord, sixteen hundred and ninety one, a year unique by virtue of it's being read the same if rightside up or upside down. My childhood was not so unique, I being a normal boy save for the lack of a mother. My dear mother, I am told, was of delicate constitution, and was often taken abed with weakness. That weakness took her life whilest she gave me mine, a fact of which I was often reminded when in the exuberance of youth, I transgressed some rule of my father's.
From early on, I was conscious of another fact. Though my father was of the landed gentry, having under his ownership Clairbourne Manor comprising eight hundred and twelve acres of land, I was the second of two sons. His lands would transfer to Arthur while I would receive only sufficient funds with which to conduct a nominal existence.
I did not bode Arthur ill. He was, from the earliest time I can remember, somewhat of a sickly child, apparently having taken after our sweet mother. The life of a landed gentleman would suit him well, for his only exertions would be lifting pen to paper in the accounting of the affairs of Clairbourne.
My constitution was exactly opposite to that of Arthur. If not wealthy, I was at least healthy. Though six years my senior, Arthur barely attained a stature of five feet and four inches by the age of twenty. I entered my thirteenth year standing as tall, and by twenty, measured a full six feet and one inch. Arthur was thin and frail; I was muscular and strong. Arthur spent his days reading and studying the mathematics of accounting. I could be found during the daylight hours roaming the manor grounds in search of excitement.
The other trait which rendered me unfit to be a gentleman of the manor was the wanderlust with which I was chronically afflicted. Father strove to educate me as well as he did Arthur, and I was required to read the volumes in his modest library. Many were thick tomes of a religious nature, and I found little interest in them. A few were the recounting of journeys to large cities and to foreign lands, and I absorbed these with a fervor.
I resolved to leave the manor as soon as I was able in order to commence a journey to these and such other strange places of which I might learn. An opportunity for such a journey was presented to me by Father when I was at the tender age of thirteen and six months.
Knowing my desires, and understanding the futility of my continued residence at Clairbourne, Father had, through his business relationships, secured me an apprenticeship with a master carpenter in Leichester. On the first day of June, I arrived at the workshop that was to be home, school, and employment for my next seven years of life.
My master, a kindly appearing man with a great belly and hair as white as the snow that covered the fields at Clairbourne in winter, was named Robert Goodsell.
Master Goodsell, as he wished to be called, proved not quite so kindly as my first impressions indicated. He was stern taskmaster, and proclaimed to me seven rules that his apprentice was required to follow, those being scribed upon a plaque in the workshop, and enumerated below.
1. Work hard from daybreak to dusk, for in work is the mind gainfully occupied.
2. Eat what is given you at mealtimes and wish not for finer fare. Simple food fills the belly without making one lazy.
3. Sleep is the time for rejuvenation of the body and spirit. Go to your cot tired and wake refreshed.
4. Make every attempt to be perfect in all you do. Such is the mark of a master craftsman.
5. Sunday is a day of worship, not a day of ease. Occupy your time in matters of piety.
6. Strong drink is the sap of the devil. Honor him not by partaking of this evil brew.
7. Do not consort with or think of the fair sex. Such thoughts rob one of concentration and direction of mind and body.
As I reflect on those early years, I realize he was strict due to his responsibilities of both instructing me in the trade and providing for my moral development as well. His methods, while seeming harsh to one so young, have been tempered by my age. Going without my supper, the usual punishment for an infraction, seems now not the torture I once thought.
Under his tutelage, I became adept in the various skills required by the trade, namely, a high level of mathematical computation skills, the manual dexterity and control required by the plane, saw, and other tools of the trade, and what Master Goodsell deemed "an eye for the wood." By the age of twenty, my duties were much the same as his, and my work brought nearly the same accolades.
Master Goodsell was not so successful with molding my moral character, though he was unknowing of this even to the day of his passing. The story causes me no small amount of mirth as I remember it today.
Master Goodsell had a fine wife who was unfortunately stricken with palpitations of the heart just as I entered the sixth year of my service. The surgeon prescribed bed rest and a strong medication from the Orient as the only cure. Master Goodsell was therefore in a quandary. His business demands and the requirements placed upon him as my master occupied nearly every waking hour. The responsibilities of the household, the laundry, the preparing of victuals, the cleaning, all required a woman to complete.
After much thought, Master Goodsell hired the services of one Molly Brinard. Molly was a jovial soul in her fifty-fourth year of life, or so she allowed. Her appearance was somewhat less than attractive due to a rather large nose, but her figure was very distinctive. While the women who came to visit Mrs. Goodsell often wore garments designed to reduce the dimension of the waist and accent that of the bosom and hips, Molly needed no such appliances. Her simple working garb, a loose dress over a chemise, was fairly bursting at the top, and well filled at the bottom.
I attempted to ignore these attributes in accordance with Master Goodsell's rules, but at the age of twenty, a boy's mind has more room for worldly things than those of work and worship. I observed Molly at every opportunity, and apparently, she also kept a keen eye on me.
A carpenter works with that warmest and most beautiful of all Nature's production, that being wood. There were timber sellers in the city, but in the opinion of Master Goodsell, only a master carpenter could determine the suitability of a particular stick. It was his custom to travel to the sawyer in the nearby forest at regular intervals to select the timber that would someday become a stair rail, a door, or a window sash.
On one such day, I was left to sweep out the workshop, the current contracts all being filled and the new awaiting a fresh supply of good English oak, beech, ash and maple. This task was intended to occupy me until his return that evening, but I had, over many days of sweeping up, developed a method that was as efficient as it was effective. By noon, every nook and cranny was cleaned of even the smallest sliver of wood chip. I was free to do as I pleased for the remainder of the afternoon.
Molly prepared a noon meal of the pease porridge from the night before. It was usual for her to serve Master Goodsell and I first, and then have her meal when we returned to work. On this day, however, she dipped my bowl and then one for herself, and placed them one on each side of our table.
"The Master is away. Might I be your company while you eat in his stead?"
"I would indeed enjoy your presence, Molly. Please, do join me."
Molly waited until I took my chair, and then proceeded to sit herself down opposite me. I say, proceeded, because she made great ado of bending over as she took her chair. In the process, her bounteous bosom welled forth from her dress, and a slight arc of darker skin peeped from the folds of her chemise.
To say I was stricken by the sight would be as to say a rainstorm is rather damp. A stirring in my loins, one I usually only felt upon waking, became a raging swelling. My manhood strained against the lacing of my breeches, and when Molly looked away for a moment, I was forced to relocate my enraged member to an upright position. Upon returning her eyes to mine, Molly seemed to notice nothing amiss and I was relieved that she attempted to begin a conversation.
'You will soon become a journeyman, I reckon. Will you be staying or leaving?"
"Yes, in six month's time, I shall be on my own, if I wish. I have not yet decided the course of my future. Master Goodsell is a good man and I would not like leaving much."
"Aye, a good man he is, but a bit stuffy for my likes, I think."
"Stuffy? Whatever do you mean?"
"Why, his rules about drink and women. There be no wrong in a dram or two of Speyside on occasion, I think. It lifts the spirits and frees the mind from the cares of life. As for his rule about we women, well, he's fortunate his dear father, rest his soul, had no such belief."
Molly laughed.
"Else the old buggar would not be here, now would he?"
I was forced to chuckle too.
"No, I suppose he would not, and then where would the two of us be?"
"Likely someplace or other, being the same as we are today."
