About Mark Ledford

If there ever was a living, breathing embodiment of that Jolly Jack Tar what is in all the songs it was Mark Ledford. He was a big bull of a man, strong as one also, but I never seen him loose his temper or even his good nature. No matter what the weather or officers throwed at us he would just take it all with a smile and a laugh.

Once a gang of us was ashore on liberty and there was a gang of lobsters in the same grog shop, but at the start they kept to their side and we ours. After a bit the biggest one come over to Ledford, who was standing at the time. He might have picked him cause he was the biggest, or maybe cause Ledford was laughing the loudest.  Mark just ignored him until he speaks up real loud and says “there ain’t a Tar alive what is fit to wipe the boots of a Royal Marine.” Mark just smiles at him and says “I see you ain’t acquainted with many tars”.

All to once there was a loud noise and the Lobster is standing funny lookin cross eyed. It happened so fast none of us caught it but Tony Weremacheck. Tony was born someplace that was not Russia, but nearby to it. He never said much, but he studied everything going on around him real careful. I don’t know if that is the way they are where he was born, or it was just his own way of hisself. Anyway he didn’t say much, but he didn’t miss nothing either.

He told us later the Lobster looked quick back to his mates then went to throw a punch, but Ledford beat him to it and give him a uppercut to the chin that almost lifted him off his feet. It throwed him against the wall so hard he bounced of it- that was the noise- and left him still standing, Tony said Ledford set his mug on the table with his free hand while he was doing it. 

Ledford took a sip from his mug and says to the Lobster “you shifted your weight before you started your punch- and ya looked back at yer mates to make sure they was watchin. That was a dead giveaway”. He says it just like he was telling the fellow his shoe had come unbuckled,  At that the fellow kind of comes to hisself and goes to throw another punch- we was all watching this time- but Ledford beats him again and punches him first, this time in the gut. That doubled him up and put him on his knees, then he starts to puke. Mark waits till he is about done puking , then squats down beside him, friendly like. “ We gonna keep this up much longer? I’d really like to get back to drinkin” he says. “Let me buy ya a drink” gasps the Lobster.

As it was he bought the next two rounds for both our whole crew and his mates, by morning we a was all pretty good chums.

-James Cullen,

Remembrances of Eight years before the Mast,

1834.

Apple's Fishhook

Sunday afternoon we was given to make and mend and Apple the carpenter told a yarn that was of much amusement to us all, so I shall relate it to you. Apple wears about his neck a charm of whalebone in the shape of a fishhook. I had heard him tell before that it come from the south sea islands, but on this day one of the fellows asked how he come by it and he related this tale.

Years before he was in the south sea islands, I misremember if he said he was with Cook, Furnu, Clerk or some other, but they had come to an island for wood, water and provisions. The Captain had taken a group ashore to parley with the King of the island and several Indians of the island had come about in canoes looking to trade. Apple said that this trading was always a tricky business as the Indians of some islands would trade fair, others was knavish thieves and still others was either fair traders or thieves depending on the day of the week or direction of the wind. The way it was done was an Indian would hold up what he had for trade and a Tar would do the same, they would barter back and forth with hand signs until a deal was struck then they would pitch each other the goods, as Indians were not allowed on the ship in the Captain’s absence. They was trading mostly nails for coconuts and breadfruits when Apple brings out a piece of Otahiti cloth he had got previous. All the Indians seemed desirous of the cloth, he said he later learned the art of making cloth was not much developed among these particular Indians. 

So all the Indians is harranging him to trade for the cloth when a big one brings his canoe right along side and makes signs he wants to see it closer. Apple tosses him one end, it was two fathoms long, and the fellow is carefully examining the other end- when all at once he yanks the cloth out of Apples hands and at the same time shoves off the ship’s side hard with his foot and his mate in the stern starts paddleing them away.  The big Indian reels in the cloth and holds it up, smiling a and gabbing. Apple thinks he’s either taunting him or bragging to his friends or both. 

Well, there was a fishing line set with several big mackerel hooks close at hand, and it had a lead on it so a fellow could get a good heave. Real quick Apple grabs it and heaves it over the fellow’s canoe. He then gives it a good yank and as luck would have it he sets a hook right in the big fellow’s buttock. Apple said maybe the fellow though he had been shot or speared cause he gives a yelp and jumps over the side and starts to swim. Apple then puts the fishline a couple of turns around a pin, so the fellow is making no headway. Then a couple of Tars join in and they start to haul the fellow back to the ship. At this the fellow becomes more inspired and swims so hard that the line breaks. So he gets away with both the cloth and the mackerel hook, so to speak. Apple said he swum so hard the beat his mate in the canoe back to the beach.

When the Captain returns it seems he has got along well with the King of the Island, because they are to go into a cover to clean the ship’s foul bottom, as well as wood and water.

Two days later as Apple is with a wood detail they are approached by a group of Indians. The big Indian what stole the cloth is among them. He hobbles up to Apple and lays the stold cloth and a warclub on the ground before him making signs for him to take them both. Apple takes them both then draws the mackerel hook in the dirt, for to say “where’s my hook?” At that all the Indians, even the big one, laugh and he turns his rump to Apple to show him the hook is still buried in his arse cheek, all the way up the shank.

So Apple is never one to hold a grudge after a fellow has tried to set things straight, so he gets permission to take the fellow to the surgeon. The hook was a barbed one, and the Indians had worried it considerable trying to remove it. The surgeon has some difficulty but finally resolves to push it all the way out through the skin, cut off the barb and then with draw it. The Indians bore the procedure manly, but when he seen that they was going to file off the barb he becomes upset like he knows it will ruin the hook. He will not have it but they pull the whole hook out by the barb, which I am sure caused him more pain that what the surgeon would have done. He bears it manly, and as soon as the surgeon has the hook out the big fellow takes it from him and hands it back to Apple with a grin.

Apple is touched, so he gives the hook back to the fellow, and after that they is best friends for while they is there. His name was Pemutoo, which was also the source of a joke among them, as Apple learned that Pemutoo was their name for a small kind of fish and whenever the Indians seen them together they would laugh and gab and slap him on the back and he supposed they were congratulating him on catching the biggest Pemutoo ever.  He even ended up giving him the Otahiti cloth back again. It was Pemutoo what give Apple the hook charm.

Before they left they even traded names, which among them is a sign of everlasting brotherhood and affection. Yes boys- says Apple- somewhere in the south sea is an Indian who goes by James Apple, and if I ever return there I shall be Pemutoo again. 

Our Reverend Griswall was listen through the whole tale and when Apple finishes he speaks up and says – Mister Apple I applaud your Christian endeavors- at which none of us, but most especially Apple- knows what to say. And the Reverend says -Our Lord admonishes us to be fishers of men, and you, Sir are one of the few men I know to have truly done so.  He said it all serious like, but we knew he ment it for a joke, which shows that all fellows from Indians to a starched collared Parson, can poke fun at a fellow on occasion.   

Exerpt from a letter from Robert Watson, aboard H.M.S. Acasta, to his wife. June 1810

Of Charles Winchester

I was passing an alley one night on Bermuda when out from it came multiple cries for Charles Winchester. As I could tell they was all drunk as Lords I paid no mind but went on into the tavern myself.  As it turned out Charles was in that very tavern. I told him of the hullabaloo, and he was curious, so back we went. 

So it had become custom among some of our fellows when given shore leave to make a pact before time that one would agree to stay sober enough to carry or pilot the other back to their berth once they was full to the gills. That work usually required one man to tend one other. Some of them hit upon the idea to rent a horse and then several fellows could be heaved on him at oncet with only one to steer. 

As it happened, they had turned down a blind alley with no way out. 

“The damn thing keeps missing her stays and we’s grounded on this lee shore” explains the almost sober one who was to pilot.

Winchester got the horse turned around for them and set them off again, but after that it become their custom to pay for Winchester’s drinks if he would agree to be the horse pilot.  It seems he had been in the business of trading horses before he run off to sea.  Charles could not just lead a horse , but ride and all, which was a rare skill in a tar.

-James Cullen,

Remembrances of Eight years before the Mast,

1834.

The Doctor’s Specimen Jars

When we was in Halifax the Doctor purchased a large number of special jars for those fishes, livers, brains, lizards and such things that he keeps pickled in spirits. A sad waste of spirits it is too. He planned to collect many new things if we was sent to Bermuda. He left the Frenchman that is his mate and his man Vasserman to repack them in shavings and straw to protect them on the voyage.

I was on deck when they handed them aboard. As soon as I had one I knew it was too heavy by twice for what it should be.

“Whats in here?” I say to the Frenchman but he just says “jen say pa” like he does not speak good English, which he does, so I look at Vasserman- who is dumb- and he writes on a little paper pad he carries “doctors jars”.

“Too heavy Mate” I tell him, and they give each other a look, and the Frenchman tells me to just keep mum and I will see when they are stowed. So once we are below we get off by ourselves and they open a case. It’s the Doctor’s jars right enough, but each one is filled to the gills with pickled eggs. They told me that if I would keep their secret they would share them. I suppose they figured the Doctor would not have approved.

Where they got them I never knew, because so many would have cost a pretty penny. Pulled some manner of purser’s trick I reckon, probably the Frenchman because deceit is just part of their nature.

In any case they was good to their word and shared them equal and I was good to my word and never told another soul, and every jar was empty by the time the Doctor set foot on Bermuda.

Robert Watson aboard the HMS Acasta

in a letter to his wife, Dec., 1813

Mr. N. Armitage

About half way through the North American commission our original purser left the ship. I never knew the reason. He was replaced by Mr. Armitage. Armitage right off made a show of using fair measures. "No more 14 ounce pounds" he says to me.  But here is how he got beyond it. 

He had a great fondness for gaming, and he was very good at it. Too good to be honest says many a tar that lost to him, but that did not keep them from coming back. I am sure the officers would not have approved, so he was sly about when he done it, and as you know mum is the word below decks. Many the time I seen a tar loose to him at a game the slops he had just bought. Some of them bought the same set of slops three or four times. So that is how he got beyond using fair measures. Pursers is all cut from the same cloth.

- James Cullen, Remembrances of Eight years before the Mast, 1834.

Apple’s Shiner

Misses Bonnie St. James

Once Apple comes back from liberty ashore with a bloody great shiner and when asked about it he says “do not trust to drink with that William Booth as he is bad to turn mean when he is deep in his cups”.

So later I run into Missus Bonnie what works for Booth and I asked her about Booth giving Apple such a whollop . “Oh” she says “That weren’t Mr. Booth, that was me what done that to that swag Apple”

“How so?” I asks. “Well”, she says ” I just come in the room and he smiles and starts such a song as should never be heard in public- much less in front of a lady! So I punched him a good’un so he would show some respect in the future”.

 I told Apple this later but he never did believe it. Booth also thought he had done the deed for the next time Apple had liberty I did also, and Booth swore eternal friendship and apologies for treating Apple so and they spent the night swapping songs and drinking all night long and cheered on by their mates.

This time they both come away undamaged.

-James Cullen. Remembrances of Eight years before the Mast, 1834.

Apple and Booth, Friends Again!

You can find Wm. Booth, Draper online HERE

Jacob Book

 

"When they pressed Jacob Booke the Boatswain turned out his pockets. He had three watches , four folding knives and a silk handkerchief embroidered "KM". He turned out to be a tolerable sailor, and if he ever actually stole anything I never heard about it, and aboard ship is a hard place to keep secrets. Sometimes he would pick a shipmates pocket for the amusement of his chums, but he always give it back afterward. I suppose he figured that if he got caught at it he had no place to run."

- James Cullen, Remembrances of Eight years before the Mast, 1834.

Meet the Acting Third Lieutenant

Lord William FitzRoy, KCB was a Napoleonic War British Naval officer and politician, retiring as Admiral shortly before his death in 1857. He was the third son of Augustus FitzRoy, Duke of Grafton and former Prime Minister of Great Britain. Serving in or near almost every major naval action of the Napoleonic War(s), FitzRoy’s story is an exciting and interesting tale of adventure, ambition, and promotion. Today, FitzRoy’s legacy is being carried on and his story told through the first person interpretative acts of Bryan Andrews and the recreated crew of the HMS Acasta reenacting group. 

Andrews has been a member of the reenacting community for almost his entire life, beginning reenacting at a very young age. He is involved in multiple time periods and can normally be found in a number of uniforms, ranging from the American Revolutionary War to WWII, and just about everywhere in between. He is a volunteer at the Indiana Military Museum and George Rogers Clark National Historical Park in Vincennes, Indiana and can be found giving interpretative talks both there, and at a number of other historic sites around the Midwest. Andrews has been the Drum Sgt. For Kellar’s Coy Illinois Regt of Virginia for almost 10 years, has done WWII US Medical Corps and British Commando reenacting, WWI British Cavalry reenacting, and has a variety of other impressions as well. Recently, Andrews started one of the first known Continental Navy reenacting units in country and worked on restoring and rebuilding a boat in the period style, as well as making a number of other naval related items and clothing. An article covering these activities was featured in the June 2017 issue of Early American Life. 

In “real life” however, Andrews is in college. He is studying History at Indiana University Purdue University Indianapolis (IUPUI) and has already graduated with an Associate’s degree from Vincennes University to that effect. He plans on continuing his education and going on to Law School. Andrews has done some sailing and has also dabbled in a few other hobbies as well, but his main interest is in historical reenacting and living history interpretation, which he is involved in just about every weekend, somewhere around the country.

Doctor's Jars

When we was in Halifax the Doctor purchased a large number of special jars for those fishes, livers, brains, lizards and such things that he keeps pickled in spirits. A sad waste of spirits it is too. He planned to collect many new things if we was sent to Bermuda. He left the Frenchman that is his mate and his man Vasserman to repack them in shavings and straw to protect them on the voyage.

I was on deck when they handed them aboard. As soon as I had one I knew it was too heavy by twice for what it should be.

“Whats in here?” I say to the Frenchman but he just says “jen say pa” like he does not speak good English, which he does, so I look at Vasserman- who is dumb- and he writes on a little paper pad he carries “doctors jars”.

“Too heavy Mate” I tell him, and they give each other a look, and the Frenchman tells me to just keep mum and I will see when they are stowed. So once we are below we get off by ourselves and they open a case. It’s the Doctor’s jars right enough, but each one is filled to the gills with pickled eggs. They told me that if I would keep their secret they would share them. I suppose they figured the Doctor would not have approved.

Where they got them I never knew, because so many would have cost a pretty penny. Pulled some manner of purser’s trick I reckon, probably the Frenchman because deceit is just part of their nature.

In any case they was good to their word and shared them equal and I was good to my word and never told another soul, and every jar was empty by the time the Doctor set foot on Bermuda.

Robert Watson aboard the HMS Acasta

in a letter to his wife, Dec., 1813

About Charles Monnier

Today's post written by Tony Gerard

So most recent we received some new hands, which we was sore in need of. Better yet these was actual sailors off a ship what had been decommissioned after a rough crossing, They said they had pumped almost the whole passage after her timbers had started to work during a blow. Among them was a  Royalist Frenhman and I though the old French surgeon’s mate we have aboard would weep with joy- so happy was he to have another frog aboard.

They was having a big gab in frog right after they discovered each other and who should come upon them from behind but our new hard horse Leftentant Lord Fitzroy.  Now we have plenty of hands whats not English aboard. You might hear three or four different languages spoke if you was to walk past the messes at supper, but Fitzroy is new and a tartar to boot. He makes them both jump like cats when he roars out in a Quarterdeck voice “You two men! I will not have THAT language spoken shipboard in my presence!”. The old Frenchman knuckles his forehead real quick and say “Aye, my Lord” but the new one just makes knuckle and says nothing. “I will have you make your obedience to me IN ENGLISH, sir” he says to the new one.

The new one knuckles his forehead again and says “ My apologies, my Lord. I was quite overcome at finding a fellow countryman aboard and forgot myself. It will not happen again.” Says it without a trace of a frog accent! I was close enough I heard it myself. If anything he sounded just like a Jonathan. Well Frizroy, the surgeon’s mate - and me to I am sure- just stand there with our mouth open for a second. Then Firzroy comes to hiself and says “Very well’ and stomps off.

Much later the Surgeon’s mate and the fellow hisself – his name is Monnier- told me more of his story. It seems his family was associates of the celebrated Lafayette. His father was one of his officers in the late war or some such. After the war they had lots of business dealings in America and he grew up mostly in America-which is how he come to speak English like a Jonathan. When the French started up that Republican madness and Lafayette had to flee the country his family did as well and went to America. They had been well off in the old country- but now had all their property took and lost most of everything. Most of their kin what did not flee was guillotined. 

Well Monnier could probably have been an officer in a Jonathan ship. But he is determined to “help regain his country” as he says it.  So he signs on as a common sailor in the Britain’s navy. He laughs, sings and cuts up with his mates like any common tar- and him educated and from a middling sort of family. It goes to show how common that leveling Republicanism streak is in all Frenchmen. Or maybe it was just nurtured by his time in America, cause the Jonathans is just as bad about that sort of thing.

-Robert Watson abord the HMS Acasta

in a letter to his wife, Feb. 1809

Fiddler’s Green in New Boston Town

There was a time on North American Station that we was on some very queer business. We would anchor at New Boston Towne in the Unighted States, sometimes for several days at a time, and the Captain or the Doctor would go ashore, sometimes both. Then we might sail up coast or down coast for a day or two, anchor at some small port while one or both went ashore. Then back to New Boston Towne we’d go for another several days. A couple of times the Doctor sent his pet Frenchman ashore alone. They was all mum about whatever business it was, but the Captain looked rather grim at the time. All in all it was about a month this took.

While we was in New Boston Towne they give us shore leave by watches. Now this may seem strange, and I suppose it was. Most often you will not get shore leave in a foreign port where they speak English for fear of fellows taking French leave. But as I have said before the Acasta was a happy ship, and the Captain firm but fair, and that is what he done. The Lieutenants was all rather grim about it at first, threating to end leave for everyone if the first fellow even turned up late, but we all knew we had a good thing going and kept a watchful eye on each other so as not to spoil it. Before it was done even Jake Booke got leave to go ashore- and he had been flogged for running before and getting caught.

Now in New Boston Towne was a tavern- not a real house style building but one of those which is all canvas and planks, but a tavern none the less and your common tar only cares for being out of the weather when he has a pint- that was called “Lord Nelson’s Arms”.  This was before Trafalgar, but after Nelson had lost his arm at Santa Cruse. That name probably earned them some hard feeling among the Jonathans because there was still plenty of bad blood from the war. They seemed right glad to have some true blue Tars come in. The place had a back room with bunks to rent and a cockpit behind it.

The gal that ran the placed called herself “Sally Brown” just like in the song. We all figured she was run from something and had changed her name- and we all thought she could have done a better job of picking a false one. Right quick Nate Johnson got a leg over on her. It looked like they had known each other from before, because anytime somebody called her ”Missus Brown” Nate would smile this sly smile to hisself. I heard  after the war they was spliced and still run a tavern in America to this day.

Right quick Sam Hollybrass got a leg over on her cousin that also worked there and from then on all of us Acastas was treated like we was family. Nobody went anywhere else when they got leave.

As I said they had a cockpit back of the place, and we had a line of some good old English birds aboard the Acasta. There was a Jonathan woman named Bickenhouser- in America there is no telling what you will find a woman doing- that had a line of birds that was local champions. They was called Delaware Blues, although most of them I seen were white with blue and red spots.

Well, we started fighting these birds, and you would have thought that would have made already bad blood between us and the Jonathans get worse. It done just the opposite. Both lines of birds was so game that there was never any telling which one would win when they was pitted.  One time they would win and the next match we would. Winchester, he knew birds, said he had never seen two lines so equally matched.

If the Jonathans had won, some Acasta would exclaim, "Say cousin you are so flush now how about buying a poor tar a pint?” and some Jonathan would buy a round for all. If we had won some Jonathan would say "Here now John Bull, why be so tight with your winnings when we are all so dry?” and we would do the same. It was jolly times.

Once as I was putting on my shore going rig Apple the carpenter passed by.  I was singing to myself and in high spirits.  “So Cullen” he says “you're off to Fiddlers Green are ya?”. And I reckon that was true. It was as close to Fiddler’s Green as any poor tar will ever come while on commission.

-James Cullen. Remembrances of Eight years before the Mast, 1834.

*** Fiddler’s Green was a mythical afterlife among sailors where the liquor and music flowed free, the girls were always pretty and everyone was always happy.

Mr. Booke

A sailor named Booke has been with us for the last year. He is a tolerable sailor and prior to his impressment was a thief and pickpocket of some repute, if such things can be reputable. He is caught frequently stealing Baptiste's leaches for fishing bait, but I think they have finally put a stop to that. 

 He is well liked by the sailors, but not as well amongst the officers, especially the boatswain Hollybrass who is constantly on the lookout for any misbehavior. 

 When we are in port, he isn't allowed to go out on his own, but always manages to slip away, coming back with a wallet full of handkerchiefs and other sundries which he will then sell to the sailors for less than they could buy them in the stores. 

 He loves to sing and play the fiddle and is usually very jovial, however the men report that he is constantly hatching plans to escape and offering up partnerships in his criminal activities to anyone who will entertain him. 

 Recently while in port, he slipped away and was discovered in the house of a Lady Carroline Linnington’s home with a bundle full of fine silver and as much food as he could stuff into a wallet. He was captured by the constable and handed over to the ships crew for which he received several lashes. Baptiste considers him a friend and personally saw to his care after the administration of the cat. 

 He is a rogue in every way, but on quiet nights while the boat rocks, his singing does bring a small comfort and make me feel at home. 

-William Bowles, Midshipman 1803

Baptiste, the Surgeon's Mate

“There is aboard my ship an old French sailor. He has been impressed as the surgeon’s mate, we having lost ours, and he having served in that capacity aboard others. He is a cheerful enough fellow for having been forced into the position of possibly fighting his countrymen and is full of stories from his travels. He has twice been wrecked, chased by land crocodiles in the Dutch West Indies, captured by Spanish privateers, stowed a rattlesnake aboard his ship, lived among head hunters in the South China Sea and a thousand other such tales. If a quarter of what he tells is truth he has lived a full life indeed!”

Robert Watson aboard HMS Acasta in a letter to his wife, Sept 16, 1813

Strange Fortune

An original Acasta Tale by Tony Gerard

So the old Frenchman what is the Doctor’s mate told a yarn for true, I am not sure that it is so, for he has an endless supply of them, and his being French besides, but they are an amusement.

It seems his wife is a headhuntress from the Spanish Philippines. I know this for a truth because I heard the Doctor speak of it to Lieutenant McLean. It seems that she is now a domesstick for the Doctors wife and Lieutenant McLean said he would like to get an exotic for his wife also. I suppose that is what passes for a prize among the better sorts these days.

Which he had been wrecked while a prisoner of the Spanish on that coast and that is how he come to be among the headhunters. So after he has been with them a number of years he decides he wants to return to Christian folk and his wife comes with him. 

They take a canoe that he has rigged with a sail and make their way from careful from island to island. He wants to hide from the Spanish, see? Whenever they come upon other Indians he shows them a jawbone of a fellow the Headhunters killed and tells them the jawbone is from a Spaniard, and they are welcomed.  No one likes the Spaniards. But they mostly try to keep away from other people. His plan is to try and make the coast of China and find an English ship to work passage on.

  

So they finally make a long haul across the South China Sea to the coast. That is the part that is the hardest for me to believe, cause he aint much of a sailor now, how could he be better when he was young? Which when they get to the China coast they are going to be even more cautious. They have heard China pirates are worse than Spaniards and they decide to find some desert place and rest up for a bit.

They finds a place that looks right, all jungle and such and they put to in a nice little cove. The Frenchman says he dont know if it were the actual coast or an  island just off it.

He has a headhunter spear, which he goes hunting with and kills a big lizard, which they is glad to have for a change. So his wife goes to boil some in a pot they has – which was her best thing- and she spits the rest to dry over the coals for later. 

Now they is taking their ease as the pot simmers when all at once they her a fellow cough in the forest nearby. Both of them hears it. They figure it for some Indians sneaking up.

So without a word the wife takes the pot and the spits and heads for the canoe and the Frenchman starts backing down with his spear pointed toward the woods.

About the time the wife is in the canoe and the Frenchman is just shoving off something runs out of the jungle and jumps over the Frenchman toward the wife on the stern. Quick as a cat- or quicker in this case- she whollops it on the nose with the pot and jumps over the side.  It then turns on the Frenchman and he does the same. The canoe has outriggers, which is the style in the Pacific, which they both end up hanging onto. The tide was ebbing fast and already they is in deep water.

So they listen to whatever it is eat what was to be their dinner off the spits and what spilled from the pot. Then it realizes that it is afloat and gets frantic, running back and forth on the canoe, then trying to climb the puny little mast, which shredded the sail and it was all they could do, one on each outrigger, to keep it from flipping it. The Frenchman said they was double scared of having it in the water with them.

They stay like that till dawn, when they see it is a leopard they has caught. The Frenchman still has his spear which he thinks maybe he can spear the leopard, but after a few tries he gives it up, as the leopard has the advantage and he is afraid if he provokes it too much it may jump on him.

  

So, they hang there all day and the next, without a drop to drink. The worst he says was listening to the leopard drink the water from a clay pot they has. A few times they come close enough to swim to an island or ashore, but they discuss it and decide that to be afoot on this wild shore they would just be eat by another leopard or something worse.

Several times sharks come close, but thankfully they offer them no trouble. On the third morning the tide is on the rise and it pulls them shoreward and up a creek. The leopard, which has been asleep on the bow wakes up, and as soon as they gets close jumps two fathoms to shore. The Frenchman and the wife jump back in and paddle frantic against the tide till they get well away.  They had some coconuts in the canoe otherwise they would have died of thirst he says cause they was both to scared to go back ashore for water. He says after that they tried to only stop at small islands which they thought was less likely to be infested with leopards.

He told this for a truth, and I can believe it all but for him sailing across the South China Sea. Mayhaps his headhunteress knew better how to mind a sail.

                  Robert Watson, aboard HMS Acasta, in a letter to his wife July 1810

The Surgeon's Mate

Jean Baptiste Girard

“There is aboard my ship an old French sailor. He has been impressed as the surgeon’s mate, we having lost ours, and he having served in that capacity aboard others. He is a cheerful enough fellow for having been forced into the position of possibly fighting his countrymen and is full of stories from his travels. He has twice been wrecked, chased by land crocodiles in the Dutch West Indies, captured by Spanish privateers, stowed a rattlesnake aboard his ship, lived among head hunters in the South China Sea and a thousand other such tales. If a quarter of what he tells is truth he has lived a full life indeed!”

Robert Watson aboard the HMS Acasta in a letter to his wife, Sept 16., 1813

Taken up by the press gang at New Boston

About Will Miller

Will Miller come about being a tar in a peculiar manner. Most of your Man o War's men are either pressed or grew up on the water- fishermen, smugglers and such. Miller had been an artillery soldier before and got his discharge during the peace.  When things heated up again he volunteered for the  Navy and I reckon they was glad to have him for his artillery experience and all. He was a quiet fellow who kept his own counsel, but he was eager to learn the skills a good tar knows, and he took to it well.

As you may know among tars to call a fellow a "soger" or to say something was done "soger fashion" is about as insulting as one tar can get to another. Well, when some of 'em found out Miller really had been a soldier they just would not let it rest. One in particular, a beef witted fellow named Campbell- would follow up anything Miller done with something like "this here splice is done soger fashion, best get a tar to do it right" and such. Miller never seemed to take notice of it.

Which one day in Bermuda port they had give us a make and mend day. Miller had set to the job of learning knots and such and had given hiself the task of splicing a number of bale slings and had just begun and finished a whipping on a length of line. He was setting with Joshua Wilson when Campbell come and bent over the two of 'em and says "it's a waste a time to try and teach a SOGER knotwork Josh".

 Quick as a cat Miller swung a leg and knocked both of Campbell's out from under him , dropping him flat on the deck and leaving him muddled and gasping like a mackerel. Miller took one of Campbell's legs  in hand and bound it quite handsomely before pulling it taught, cleated it tight round a pin and shoved Campbell over the side. Leftenant Tumbush, who was officer of the watch, all of a sudden found something which interested him ashore. He knew how much grief Miller had been catching I suppose.

All of us nearby was just staring with open mouths and Miller points at Campbells foot with the knot around his ankle- it was all ya could see of him over the side- and says to Wilson-  "Rolling hitch, for when the pull is at an angle". "That's right" says Wilson as he and another fellow heave Campbell back to the deck before Tumbush decides to notice.

That was the end of that "Soger" claptrap. 

-James Cullen,

Remembrances of Eight years before the Mast,

1834.

Strange Fortune

Strange Fortune : The Life and Times of Jean Baptiste Girard, continued…

As told to #8 larboard mess, HMS Acasta

"So, for de next two years I live- how you say- hand in mouth?"

"Hand TO mouth" corrected Apple, the ship's carpenter.  

"Yes, hand to mouth, for I have no real skill as a sailor…"

"An forty years later ya still don't" said Apple. By now he and the Frenchman were fast friends, tie mates even. Baptiste ignored the friendly barb.

"But I am not unhappy, for I see many new places and tings, and if de pay is not so good, it make no concern to me, for is easy to live in de islands."

"How so?" asked the young gunner's mate.

"Is always coconuts or a conch to eat, or fish to catch is never dat much trouble, so no one go hungry. Was not for de sickness so much- an no good cheese- it would be de best place to live. So I come to de british honduras on a logwood merchant, but I don't like dem so good, so I leave dem dere. But I have only very small money, but dey have a pit dere, so I go to see if I perhaps can find work as a setter or heeler, for dis I am skilled at." At this he looked to Apple for a barb, but the carpenter merely nodded his head in agreement, so he continued.

"But I find no work like dat, but is a most handsome white hackled bird that is to be pitted, an I take what small money I have an bet for dis bird, he win and now I have twice to much as before. Is still small, but is better." 

"So Dat is how I make for to live for a time dere, I make my bets careful and I win most de time. Each time he is pitted I bet on dat white hackled cock and he never loose. I learn dat he belong to de negro fellow dat is his setter. As days pass dat cock  become known an de crowds is bigger when he is pitted.

"About dis same time a French privateer- de Bras D'orr - come in. Most of her crew has been killed with de yellow jack. Some of her crew come to de pit, and I tell dem how to bet and dey win, so we become friends.

It comes time for a big main. All de gentelmen planters is come, is nothing dat makes all men de same as de pit. De negro with de white hackled cock- his name is Simon- tell me dat many of de gentlemen try to buy dat cock, but dat he will not sell him.

Dis night de white hackled cock is to be pitted against a black cock dat is de champion of a planter gentleman. Is everyone dere dat night- all de gentlemen planters, sailors an tradesmen, my friends from de Bras D'orr , an many, many negros. When de match finally come both cocks fight very good, many small wounds on each, but finally de white hackled cock strike a killing blow. As soon as he do all de negros give a great cheer. One big negro, he jump into de pit an embrace Simon so strong. He jump up and down wid him like dat. It seems several of de negros have made bets for enough to win dere freedom or dat of a family person. 

But because dis fellow have him embraced, Simon, he can not pick up de cock like he should. De cock, he is making crows an strutting around de dying black cock. As de do the black cock give a dying kick and drives de gaff into dat white hackled cock at de base of his throat, all de way in.

Simon den, he break away and pulls de two apart, an dey set dem both down on dere feet, for now de match goes to de one dat live longest. All is silent as we wait to see which die first. When de black cock fall over again dere is a great cheer from all de negros. 

I jump down into de pit den, Simon have picked up de cock, and I tell him dat I wish to purchase de cock. He say to me dat even though he is killed he don't want him to be eat. I say I don't want him to eat, dat I maybe can save him. He say to me 'If you can save him, den you just have him.' So right away I pull de feathers from around de wound and I suck de blood from it, so it don't go to de lungs. 

I take him back to where I stay and I nurse him very careful. My landlady, she let me sweat him in a basket by her bread oven. After some days he begin to recover. Simon, and some of de other negros, and some of my friends from de Bras D'orr, all come to see about him at times.

Finally he is good again, maybe not for de pit, but enough to father more cocks. I offer him back to Simon, but he say dat he have several of his sons already, an since I save him I should have him. 

About dis same time one of my friends from De Bras D'orr have his arm get  broke, an I set it for him. Dey have been waiting for dere captain to recover from de yellow jack.

When he get recovered dey come to me an dey say dat dey wish me to come aboard to be as dere doctor, for de one dey have is killed.  I say dat I am no real doctor and de mate de send say 'you set Robere's arm good and saved dat rooster, so you are as good as anyone we will find here'.

So when de Bras D'orr sail, I am wid her as dere doctor, and de white hackled cock also. De sailors, dey name him 'Focion', after a fierce fellow dat die of de yellow jack."