Diving below decks by way of the fore-hatch, one is affronted by the smell of humanity. A literal combination of blood, sweat, tears.. and worse, the pungent aroma is one to make a weak stomached man vomit on contact.
As you descend down the ladder, you find yourself surrounded by the ship's company. This is why ships crews are such a tight knit community. They have to be. The space in minimal seeing as it's the innards of the ships bow. At a width of 16 feet x a length of 20 feet and with a headroom of 7 feet, the bunks are tight. Slaves coming from the Dark Continent have more room than these bunks allow. Sure, it's a mere 2 inch advantage, but 2 inches goes along way when a person is trying to get comfortable after a rough night of sailing.
Sleep is hard to get due to the noise on deck and in the focsle itself. The cable chains run about either side of the focsle's walls whenever they are used or shift in the cabletier that is located forward of your bunks. Meanwhile, fellow crewmen laze about before they have duties on deck to attend to. Some play instruments or scratch nib to parchment. Others hum to themselves while others snore in their bunks. All this is encompassed by the constant swirling of water about the hull as the ship cruises in the nights light aires.
This is your home. Your only escape is the Maindeck, the Galley, the Hold & the brief moments you may be allowed into the Captains Cabin.
