I transmigrated as a french soldier during XVIIIth century

The day promised to be particularly sunny, as the grayish veil on the horizon had disappeared quite early. The deep blue sky blended with the sea near the Goulet but stood out against the greenery surrounding the harbor. The surface of the water was almost as smooth as a lake, perfectly reflecting the stunning landscape.

On the main deck, the men were already gathered, illuminated by the sun's harsh rays. The ropes and sails, carefully folded on the yards, cast large shadows on the gleaming planks.

Adam was among the large group, and it was clear that he would be trained in rigging maneuvers. When he learned this, he immediately felt a lump of anxiety forming in his throat, for he feared more than anything being sent up high, among the seabirds floating with the winds.

He glanced at the top of the masts. The numerous ropes, each surely having its own name and purpose, were so taut they creaked as if they were about to snap. The more he looked at them, the greater the chasm separating him from the yards seemed.

Slowly, his gaze fell on a few experienced sailors, climbing with great agility up the enfléchures, a kind of rope-and-wood ladder used to scale the rigging. Watching them climb to such heights, it was hard to imagine the countless hours of practice. To Adam, they were almost madmen playing with their lives. To him, they were terrifying.

They're so fast! Don't they realize that with just one misstep... No! I mustn't think about things like that! Think about something else!

A light breeze from the south, carrying scents of the sea and the countryside, reached him. It was far more pleasant than the harsh smells that lingered on the lower decks. Between the odor of men and beasts, breathing was difficult down there.

Under the watchful eyes of Mr. de Beaumont and Lenoir, everything needed for their exercises was being prepared.

"Listen up, all of you," the boatswain called out in his most powerful voice. "There's a lot to explain and plenty of exercises to complete. We won't be able to cover everything in one day, so let's start with the basics. As you might have noticed when boarding yesterday, the Océan has three masts. The one at the front, or the bow, is called the 'mât de petit perroquet'. In the center, you have the 'mât de grand perroquet', and at the rear, the 'bâton d'Artimon'. Each mast is made up of three parts, or sections if you prefer. Just remember the central parts, the 'gallaubans des perroquets,' and the upper parts, the 'haubans des perroquets'. The 'perroquet' refer to the triangular sails stretched between the masts. See those long ropes?" he said, pointing to the long hemp ropes stretched between the mainmast and the foremast. "Those are the 'étais des perroquets'. For now, the sails are furled, but the royals are unfurled along those ropes. Finally, at the very front, above the figurehead, we have the 'bout dehors de Beaupré'. Master these few terms, and the orders we'll give you in the future will be much clearer."

Adam barely retained anything the chief boatswain had said and began to tremble at the thought of being questioned.

"Now, let's get down to business," the man said, grabbing a thick rope and snapping it between his hands, a sadistic smile on his lips. "Knots! You may still see yourselves as infantry soldiers, but don't make any mistakes—you became sailors the moment you stepped aboard this ship. Knowing how to tie knots is like learning to load your weapon! You must master this skill and be able to do it blindfolded!"

The young lieutenant couldn't take his eyes off the rope, snapping at regular intervals. To his ears, it sounded like a whip cracking.

"This afternoon, we'll move on to the real deal by unfurling some sails."

Adam hastily wiped his hands on the edge of his coat, not daring to break eye contact with the man.

"Uh, Mr. de Beaumont, it might be a bit early for that. However, we can train them in emergency maneuvers.

"As you wish, sir."

"Today," said Lieutenant Lenoir, "we won't be leaving the harbor of Brest. All the exercises we'll be doing over the next few days—at least today—will take place here, at anchor."

Adam thought he heard a collective sigh of relief around him; perhaps his own was mixed in, yet he still couldn't calm down. The lump of anxiety was still there, firmly lodged in his throat, as large as a ping-pong ball.

"So," the boatswain resumed, "let's work on the basics. I want to see clove hitches, capstan knots, bowlines, figure-eights, and reef knots. I'll show you, and you'll reproduce them. I don't want poor imitations, but perfect knots. If it's not good, you'll do it again. Ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times if necessary. I can keep you awake all night if I have to—it doesn't bother me."

Adam received a rope similar to his comrades' and noted how solid it seemed. It was also heavier than he had imagined.

Instinctively, he looked up and tried to imagine the weight of all those ropes, most of which were much thicker than the one he held.

Damn, if I'd known, I would have learned this before coming here! I don't know anything about this except the basic knots I tied with my shoelaces!

Slowly, the boatswain demonstrated the first knot, and within just a few moves, it was done. Yet, the knot in the middle of his rope seemed quite complex and very secure.

"Your turn now."

Damn it! I didn't understand anything he did!

He looked at his poor rope and what his neighbors were doing. They didn't seem to get it either.

So, he tried his luck, but as soon as he finished, he noticed he hadn't really done anything. When he pulled on both ends of the rope, it simply tightened.

Louis Lenoir seemed to notice their distress and asked the boatswain to go over the steps for tying a bowline again.

The lieutenant passed by Adam and gave him a word of encouragement.

Adam nodded without daring to reply and started over. This time, it resembled a knot, but it wasn't quite like what Mr. de Beaumont had done.

His voice boomed behind him, making him jump like a cat caught doing something wrong.

"You call that a knot?! What a disgrace! What an insult! Did you tie it with your feet?! Do it again!"

Fortunately, these harsh words weren't directed at him. The officer moved to the next soldier and thundered once more.

"Really?! Is that all a proud soldier of the royal army is capable of? Pathetic!"

The boatswain arrived behind Adam and grabbed the rope in his hands. With one glance, he saw where the problem lay.

"Wrong! Look at this work! I wouldn't even call this a knot! If I pull a little… and there! The knot is gone! Start over!"

Adam, who had held his breath during the inspection, let out a deep sigh and took his piece of rope back into his hands.

I knew it wasn't good, but this bad? Is it that serious?

Louis came back to him and showed him how to do it. With great kindness, he carefully explained each of his movements, waiting patiently until his new comrade had fully seen and understood what needed to be done. Like the chief boatswain, it only took him a moment to complete the exercise, which was just the first in a long series.

Adam nodded and reproduced the knot he was asked to make, and despite a few hesitations, he succeeded.

Louis Lenoir and Mr. de Beaumont gave him approving looks, which finally allowed him to relax.

The exercises continued for long hours under an increasingly aggressive sun and the amused glances of the seasoned sailors, who had, of course, gone through the same process. Some took a certain pleasure in mocking them when they failed, but most showed them kindness, much like the young lieutenant.

The goal was not to humiliate them but to make them capable assistants. Becoming a sailor was definitely not possible in such a short time, as most of the crew had been in the royal navy since they were fifteen or sixteen years old.

Every knot, every movement seemed trivial to Adam, but he could feel how much precision and discipline were essential for life on board and the ship's smooth operation. Eventually, a good knot could save their lives at sea, for example, when the ocean raged and they needed to quickly climb the rigging to furl a sail to prevent losing a mast.

By noon, they were granted a well-deserved break. They exchanged words with the other team, who had been learning how to load a naval cannon. While that seemed much more interesting than learning to tie knots, at least they had the benefit of working in the sun.

They were given a hearty meal, full of energy, accompanied by a piece of bread that had begun to harden, and a mixture of water and wine. Adam then saw his officer, Captain Gilbert, approaching.

"So, how did it go for you?" he asked in a tired voice, sitting next to him, holding in his hands the small portion of food they had been given.

"It went pretty well, but I'm a little worried about what comes next. I think they're being kind to us because it's the first day, but later, it could be different."

"Hmm, maybe. And the boatswain? Did he…"

"He didn't whip anyone, Captain. But he insulted everyone."

"If that's all…" he said, biting into his piece of bread, so hard that he let out a small grunt of surprise. "Damn, it's like stone! What's it going to be like when we're at sea?"

Adam couldn't help but smile, but it quickly disappeared.

"Captain, do you know where we're being sent?" he asked seriously.

"Yes, we discussed it last night with the captain of the Océan and some of his officers."

"Where are we going?" Adam insisted, noticing too late that they had attracted the attention of a good number of soldiers around them.

"I'm not allowed to say, but it's going to be eventful… and tough."

"Are we going to England, Captain?" asked a soldier who seemed quite experienced and bore a few stripes on his sleeve, identifying him as a sergeant.

"I won't say anything. Don't insist. It's not my place to inform you."

After the break, the exercises resumed aboard the Océan, just as on all the warships. The next task they had to complete was highly physical, as they were required to lower a boat into the water and then hoist it back aboard the larger vessel.

Not only was it physically demanding, but it also required coordination.

"Slowly on the right! You're going too fast! What are you doing on the left?! Are you taking a nap?! Hey! Don't mess it up! I didn't say to let the rope run!

"Argh! It burned my hands!"

"Well, of course, idiot! Go protect your hands and come back! Who told you to stop?! Get to work!"

Adam gritted his teeth, holding tightly to the thick hemp rope in his hands. The rough cord felt like sandpaper against his skin, though it was far less fragile than his hands, which were more accustomed to doing nothing physical.

Ah… Argh, it's so heavy!

Despite his comrades' help, he felt like he was doing all the work. Leaning back almost to the point of lying on the upper deck, not far from the quarterdeck, he pulled with all his strength to control the descent of the boat.

Damn! It feels like it weighs a ton! Damn it!

All his muscles were pulled and strained to the extreme. His face had turned red and shiny with sweat. The veins in his arms were so swollen that he could clearly see them up to his shoulders, and he barely dared to breathe for fear of losing grip on the rope.

They had almost let the boat fall into the sea, and it was only through a tremendous effort that they managed to hold it back.

Of course, for this exercise, they had all shed their coats and jackets. Some, despite it being only the beginning of April, had even decided to take off their shirts. Adam hesitated to do the same, but it was too late. He couldn't let go of the rope now.

Finally, the boat reached the surface of the water, with the boatswain aboard.

My God, we did it.

"Ah… Ahahahahah!"

Like a madman, Adam burst into uncontrollable laughter, and like a spreading illness, it caught on with everyone around him.

All of them were drenched in sweat and relieved that they hadn't let the boatswain fall into the sea. For their sake, it was probably better if he didn't survive, should that unfortunate event occur.

Adam and his comrades had indeed seen their lives flash before their eyes, imagining the lash of the boatswain's whip after young soldier Basile had let go of his rope.

A voice called out from the lifeboat.

"Are you all right? Don't let me interrupt! Now pull me back up! And faster this time!"

Adam stopped laughing and got back to work, ignoring the intense pain in his arms and hands.

Slowly, two teams began lifting the large boat, as white as freshly fallen snow. The hemp ropes, taut like their muscles, made the large guaiac wood pulleys creak—a tough exotic wood from the New World, said to be as hard as iron.

"Come on, lads! Just a bit more! Heave! Ho! Heave! Ho!"

Together, they shouted in unison, giving themselves courage and setting a rhythm. It felt so natural that Adam didn't even question it. Along with the others, he pulled and yelled,

"Heave! Ho! Heave! Ho!"

Finally, the boat was in position.

"Good! Very good work! Maybe we can make sailors out of you yet! Don't slack off! The last one in line ties the knot. I want a clove hitch! Come on! And watch out if it's poorly done!"

Adam flinched and got to work, as no one stood behind him. His hands trembled after so much effort, and he noticed four large white blisters on both hands, looking like terrible swollen spots. Most of them had burst due to the rope's friction.

When he finished, the boatswain passed behind him, said nothing, and moved on to the next man. There too, he said nothing.

Phew! We did it! Adam thought joyfully, before taking a closer look at his hands. Ah, my poor hands… I hope it's not like this every day!

A large, calloused hand, full of cracks and cuts, rested on his shoulder. It belonged to the sailor with tattooed arms, who wore a broad smile but frowned slightly at the sorry state of Adam's hands.

"Don't worry, kid," he said, chuckling, "you'll see worse than this. It's all part of the job, haha!"