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Misson

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For your edification (despite my general lack of use for poetry, this is sort of funny):

"A relation of some Passages happening when we were at Zante; where we tried which wine was the best; viz. of that which we had at Malta or that which we found then at Zante. Composed September 28 [1675]:

I. Two great commanders at this place fell out,

A Malta gallant and a Grecian stout;

True Trojans both, equal for birth and valour,

Small difference in habit or in colour;

Ambitious only which should have the honour

To fight the Turks under the English banner.

II. Brave Syracusa, Malta's warlike knight,

Displays his bloody flag much like a wight

Of peerless courage (drawing forth his forces,

Whose Colours were red, both foot and horses).

Thus Hector once, that noble son of Priam

Dared out the Grecian lads, only to try 'um.

III. Rubola, hold as ere was Alexander,

At this place was the merry Greeks' commander;

Like a stout champion and a man of might

Set up his standard, which was red and white.

Thus Ajax with Ulysses had a fray

Which would Achilles' armour bear away

IV. Whilst these two combatants with large pretences

Do praise, and boast, and brag their excellences,

Our English squadron, being much in wrath,

Vowed by St Geroge to be revenged on both.

Thus Jove enraged, with thunder-bolts controlled

The daring giants, 'cause they were so bold.

V. Th' Assistance, Dragon, Dartmouth, all consent

As firm as by an Act of Parliament;

And quickly too, because they were no starters,

Surprised Syracusa in his quarters;

Whilst suddenly our gentry on the shore

Spared not to turn Rubola o'er and o'er.

VI. But two to one is odds, and so we found,

For many of our men were run aground:

Some would have stole away, but could not stand;

Some were aboard, and could not get to land;

Some lost their feeling, and ('twas strange to see't)

they went as well upon their heads as feet.

VII. Some would have fought, but, lifting up their hands

Scarce to their heads, fell backwards on the sands;

One lost his hearing; another could not see

Which was his friend or which his enemy

And, having lost their senses which they had,

they whooped and holloa'd as they had been mad.

VIII. Some by their friends were carried to their hammocks,

And bed-rid lay, with pains in sides and stomachs;

With fiery faces, and with aching brain,

Their hands all dirt, their pulses beat amain;

Which when the doctor did but touch would spue

Good Syracusa and Rubola too.

IX. Some talk, and swear like men in frantic fits,

Whose vain discourse did much outrun their wits;

Some were stroke dumb, not able to afford

Their minds or meanings by a sign or word;

Some, loth to speak, made signs, whose silent speeches

Shewed the disease was sunk into their breeches.

X. Some so outrageous that the corporal

Was forced to cloister them in bilboes-hall;

Some, seized to the mainmast, do their backs expose

To th' nine-tailed cat or cherriliccum's blows;

Some ready to be ducked, some left ashore,

And many mischiefs I could tell you more.

XI. The strangeness of their weapons, and their number,

Caused us to lose a day, the field the plunder:

The English used to fight with swords and guns,

But here they met with barrels, butts and tuns.

Boast now no more: you see what odds will do;

Hector himself would never fight with two."

(From The Journal of Henry Teonge, Chaplain on Board H.M.'s Ships Assistance, Bristol, and Royal Oak, 1675 - 1679, edited by G. E. Manwaring, p. 77-9)

Some notes:

Hector is from Greek mythology - a Trojan warrior (son of Priam and Hecuba)

Bilboes are a sort of shackle, cherriliccum is a whip used for flogging

A tun and a butt are each a measure of alcohol and/or a sort of cask.

"I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I am saying.” -Oscar Wilde

"If we all worked on the assumption that what is accepted is really true, there would be little hope of advance." -Orville Wright

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  • 3 weeks later...

Ok, this doesn't really fit anywhere, but I enjoyed it, so I thought others might as well. It seemed to suit this thread with that odd drinking poem by Chaplain Teonge, so I'm stuffing it in here. I officially christen this the Silly Drunken Period Tales thread.

From Adventures by Sea of Edward Coxere, Sub-titled "It's good to be the King."

"This new captain did soon begin to shew some kind of antic tricks, as if his brain had been cracked, much like unto Tucker, with whom I was before, when he had got drink in his head. The men perceiving of it, several desired to have their wages and to be cleared; upon which he orders all the men to come into the cabin: when there, orders me to take pen, ink, and paper, for I was very much in esteem with him when he was drunk or sober. The men standing all in the cabin before him, he asked them who would have their wages and be gone and who would stay. I took their names; so that those that expected their wages and to be cleared, he turned them out of the cabin without it, and the other we sat and drank with him in the cabin during his pleasure, and did not dare part till he pleased, which suited very well with the tempers of the seamen that stayed.

Another time he caused the boat to be manned and caused the men to row him two or three miles, and landed him where he tucked down his breeches and eased himself, and so returned back again two or three mile, and then landed and we went all to drinking, captain and men together. All this was done without hardly speaking a word till we got to drinking; all was done by signs with his hand. I, steering the boat, observed the motion of his hand where to steer her. These were two of his whimsies among many.

When we were dispatched at Falmouth we set sail for the Straits and, being at sea, he being with the merchant, doctor, and mates in the cabin, ready to go to victuals, a whimsy came in his head: ordered the victuals to be brought down in the gun-room to me, where he and I dined together, I had as much liberty as could be desired, as also well beloved by the rest of the officers as the captain; notwithstanding my youth...

We arrived well at Tangier and anchored before the town, it then being inhabited by the Portugeuses. Our captain commands the boat to be manned, and was rowed ashore, where he was entertained by the Governor with wine, which inflamed his brain. This done, he returns aboard again with a whimsy in his head, telling of us that the wind was fair for us, though we knew it to be calm. Nothwithstanding, he commanded us to get up the anchor, and would not otherways be satisfied, though we knew it to be no purpose. To humour him in some measure, the word was given to weigh the anchor. The cable was brought to the capstan, we, knowing each other's mind, both seamen and officers, hove the capstan round, but let the cable lay slack, so that it did not heave in. The captain, supposing the anchor to be weighed, stand on the quarter-deck, commanding the sails to be loosed, which was done and trimmed all before the wind, with a man at the helm, he crying 'Starboard' and 'Port,' telling us of a brave wind, though calm, and we fast at anchor. A very notable whimsy of a commander." (Coxere, p. 51-3)

“We either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same.” –Carlos Casteneda

"Man is free at the moment he wishes to be." — Voltaire

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Drunk as a skunk that one!


"I being shot through the left cheek, the bullet striking away great part of my upper jaw, and several teeth which dropt down the deck where I fell... I was forced to write what I would say to prevent the loss of blood, and because of the pain I suffered by speaking."~ Woodes Rogers

Crewe of the Archangel

http://jcsterlingcptarchang.wix.com/creweofthearchangel#

http://creweofthearchangel.wordpress.com/

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  • 1 month later...

And now for some medicinal advice on the use of spirits. This is from Richard Wiseman's Of Wounds, Of Gun-Shot Wounds, Of Fractures and Luxations which is excerpted from his master book Severall Chiruricall Treatises of 1676.

"Ed. BR, an old Servant to a Person of Honour, was bit by a Monky in the Back of his hand, To prevent Inflammation, I forbad him Wine. The next morning he complained he had not slept that night, that he was faint and sick, and that his Wound was the least of his ailment. That day he continued faint and ill, and the next morning complained again of his want of rest; and that afternoon he swouned and complained he could not live without Wine. He had good Broths, Caudles and such like; and I believe he did drink some Wine. (But he was allowed by his Master a Bottle of a Quart every morning for his Draught, and was seldom sober.) His Wound was indigested [not producing clean granular tissue] and inflamed. I complied with his desire; he drank again as he pleased; his Sickness went off, his wound digested, and he was soon cured.

This I have seen often in some if the Dunkerkers at sea, who drank extra-ordinarily, and were full of drink at the time of their sea fights. I could scarce ever cure any of them without allowing them Wine; and thereby their Spirits were kept up, and I had the liberty to bleed them as I thought fit. When these kind of people eat as plentifully as they drink, they then upon a sudden change of Diet labour under a Crapula [sickness following sudden cessation of intemperate eating and drinking - probably a sort of delerium tremens], and are subject to Fainting or have Colick, Dysuria [painful urination] &c." (Wiseman, p. 346)

Mycroft: "My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?"

John: "I don't know."

Mycroft: "Neither do I. But initially he wanted to be a pirate."

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Since you're on the subject of drinking :lol:

THE Moderate Man's Advice against Extravagant Drinking, OR, Enough is as good as a Feast.

Printed in 1707

Come all you brave hearts of Gold,

Let's learn to be merry and wise

For it is a true saying of old,

Suspicion is doubtless disguis'd :

Whatever we say or do,

Let's not drink to disturb our brain;

But laugh for an hour or two,

And never be Drunk again.

For a cup of strong bear it is good,

To drive the cold Winter away,

Twill nourish and cherish our blood;

When our spirits begin to decay:

But he that takes too much,

Of his head he will complain;

Then let us have a gentle touch,

But never be drunk again.

Strong Bear it is made for Man,

But Man was not made for it,

Let's drink and be merry as we can,

But not drink away our wit:

Then Drawer come fill us a quart,

And let it be Claret in grain.

We'll Laugh and we'll meerly sport

And never be Drunk again.

For enough is as good as a Feast,

If a Man could have but the Power,

A Drunkard is worse than a Beast,

That lies tumbling on the floor.

If a Man could his time recall,

In an Ale-House he spends in vain,

We'll learn to be merry Boys all,

And never be Drunk again.

The Trooper that mounts the war horse

And Lovers that Courts for a Wife,

Good Faith they are both at a loss,

Were it not for the Liquor of Life:

It makes them couragious and stout,

Their Hearts in Jockeller vain,

And tho we Drink briskly about,

We'll never be Drunk again.

Some Men that are commonly Drunk;

Will often fall out with their Friends,

And others will Troop to a Punk,

Where Money they westfully spend ;

The which they have reason so to prise,

Because it is hard to obtain,

Boys let us be merry and wise,

And never be Drunk again.

Dioginis liv'd in a Tab,

And drank the cold water so clear;

For want of a Cup of strong Bub,

His Spirits he never could cheer:

He's gone and left us behind,

True Love and friendship to maintain,

We'll Drink for the good of Mankind,

And never be Drunk again.

The Student that Studies the Law,

And the Scholar that follows his Books,

Their Learning's not worth a wheatstraw

If heavy and dull is their look

But cheer them with cherishing Bowls,

Then will they true Learning obtain.

Now as we are jocaller Souls,

We'll never be Drunk again.

Now here's a good Health to the Queen

The Glory and Pride of the Land,

And let our Allegance be seen,

By six in a Protestants Hand ;

O wish her both Honour and Wealth,

A long and Prosperous Reign;

And tho' we drink to her good Health,

Let's never be Drunk again.

"If part of the goods be plundered by a pirate the proprietor or shipmaster is not entitled to any contribution." An introduction to merchandize, Robert Hamilton, 1777

Slightly Obsessed, an 18th Century reenacting blog

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  • 3 years later...

From The Voyages and Travels of Captain Nathaniel Uring (1928 reprint, first published in 1726):

“The Wood-Cutters are generally a rude drunken Crew, some of which have been Pirates, and most of them Sailors; their chief Delight is in drinking; and when they broach a Quarter Cask or a Hogshead of Wine, they seldom stir from it while there is a Drop left: It is the same thing when they open a Hogshead of Bottle Ale or Cyder, keeping at it sometimes a Week together, drinking till they fall asleep; and as soon as they awake, at it again, without stirred off the Place. Rum Punch is their general

__

Drink, which they’ll sometimes sit several Days at also; they do most Work when they have no strong Drink, for while the Liquor is moving they don’t care to leave it.” (Uring, p. 241-2)

Mycroft: "My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?"

John: "I don't know."

Mycroft: "Neither do I. But initially he wanted to be a pirate."

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  • 3 years later...

Ha ha ha!

"The captain surpassed himself and gave drinks to all who came on board [at ‘Port du Cap Francois, Sand Domingo], and it seemed that he drank himself sober. His sailors followed his good example, all this entertainment being at the expense of the cargo. After tapping a cask they would fill it up again with sea-water and thus ruin the wine that was left in it. The unfortunate people who have ordered the wine have no redress for this pillage and destruction which they have very frequently to endure." (Jean-Baptiste Labat, The Memoirs of Pére Labat 1693-1705, translated and edited by John Eaden, Frank Cass & Co. Ltd, 1970, p. 146)

Mycroft: "My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?"

John: "I don't know."

Mycroft: "Neither do I. But initially he wanted to be a pirate."

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