Taking the American Gun

The brave crew of "El Dragón", soon we would be running away from the British!

The Acastas after having captured the American gun. Image by Stefan Barges.

'Broadsides' A Book Review

Broadsides- The Age of Fighting Sail, 1775-1815 

by Nathan Miller
a short review by Tony Gerard

I'm not a guy that is into military strategy and tactics. Reading about that sort of thing ranks right up there with watching people play chess for me. However, if I'm serious about doing a believable first person interpretation of an early 19th century sailor I must know about  the naval military history that occurred during my persona's lifetime. It would have been discussed over and over during messes and long watches.  

That's where Broadsides comes in as a good book for me. The book covers the period just before and through the time of the Acasta. It presents naval military history from a completely Anglo centric point of view, the French and Spanish only appear as antagonists. The book covers the structure and all the major engagements of the British Navy as well as the development of the American  Navy and all its major engagements. Most importantly for me Miller does not get bogged down in too much strategic detail, his presentation is more that of a historian and less of a tactician.

The book does suffer from a lack of maps. Miller makes lots of reference to locations and routes, he seems to assume his reader is completely familiar with the coast of both sides of the Atlantic. There are a few very basic maps in the back of the book, I only noticed them after I'd finished the book because they are not referenced in the text.

If a guy was intent on doing a British naval impression but only intended to read two books I'd recommend "Jack Tar" for the daily life of a tar and "Broadsides" for the historic background.

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."

Mr. Araiza's Hair

Our ship was once set upon by a plague of lice that came aboard with several of the dirtier sailors. Through the efforts of the doctor no one was lost, but many were laid low for quite some time. The doctor hisself was among the first stricken, but he was soon cured by having his mate to shave his head and apply lye soap and fresh water to his clothing. The doctor was a handsome fellow with a full head of hair which he wore cut at the collar in the modern fashion. When he was recovered enough to come up above deck to take the air, a topmast fellow named Araiza, on seeing him all shaved, laughed so hard he fell down. Araiza later told me he knew he was in the wrong, but it just struck him as so comic that he couldn’t help hisself.

It was not long after that Araiza come down with a fever and a flux. He had some taint of a Spaniard or Portuguese in his ancestry, but it had gifted him with a full head of thick black hair that he wore in a beautiful que that reached to his belt. The doctor had the mate to shave it off and apply cooling rags. The mate, an old Frenchman whose hair had mostly jumped ship on him, looked like he was going to weep the whole while he was at the task. Araiza said it was of no concern to him because it grew fast on him and he would have it back soon enough.

Arazia recovered shortly, but throughout the rest of the commission anytime he grew a bit of hair the doctor would have his mate to shave Araiza’s head on some pretext of ill health. I reckon that that Spanish blood made him too proud to seek the doctor’s forgiveness.

Three days before we finally made port at the end of the commission Arazia broke two fingers on his left hand. After he had set them the doctor had his mate to shave Araiza s head, just as a precaution against an infection fever he said.

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

J. Wilson, Able Seaman

Joshua Wilson was a great bear of a tar who had a particular distinction. Your usual tar, when he is ashore and in money, never gives it thought beyond his next breath. Wilson always set aside the biggest end of it to have sent back to his wife, then he would  go out and kick up Bob's a dyin' with the rest.  I never knew him to go with a bum boat girl either. If the officer's had a young Mid to run an errand ashore they often sent Wilson along to keep him out of trouble. He was what they called a "responsible man".

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