Daniel

George Roberts reported that when he stated religious reasons for not joining Ned Low's pirate crew, that "Some of them said, I should do well to preach a Sermon, and would make them a good Chaplain. Others said, No, they wanted no Godliness to be preach'd there : That Pirates had no God but their Money, nor Saviour but their Arms. Others said, That I had said nothing but was very good, true, and rational, and they wish'd that Godliness, or, at least, some Humanity, were in more Practice among them ; which, they believ'd, would be more to their Reputation, and cause a greater Esteem to be had for them, both from God and Man." Quite some time ago, in a book called Pirates of New Spain, I remember reading about a good deal of Christian religious practice among the Anglo-French buccaneers raiding the west coast of Mexico in the late 1600s. The French buccaneers, after robbing and sacking a Spanish town, went immediately to the church and heard Mass! There was also considerable conflict between the Catholic French buccaneers and their Protestant English comrades; some of the English Protestants would smash and profane the "idols" of the Catholic church, believing it to be their sacred duty. This mortally offended many of the Catholic French. I had a previous post that showed a Captain Roberts (quite possibly Bartholomew) using a quarto Bible to swear in new recruits, but he did it at gunpoint and was swearing "monstrous hellish Oaths" the whole time, so I wouldn't say he was necessarily a very religious sort. Cindy Vallar and Douglas Botting mention some other pirates swearing to the articles on an axe, a human skull, crossed pistols, crossed swords, or astride a cannon, but I can't say whether this was a conscious rejection of the Bible or merely an expedient when no Bible was handy.

Only one that comes to mind is the Charles, which Avery took and renamed Fancy. Contemporaries mentioned that she was already a good sailor, and then became even faster when Avery razed her afterdecks. I guess Tew's Amity must have been pretty good too; she was just a sloop, but made it to the Indian Ocean and back, then made it to the Indian Ocean again and still was fast enough to catch the Fateh Muhammad. My favorite way of summarizing that rule is "Fast, cheap, or good: pick no more than two." In this case, however, the ships were tremendously expensive and very poor quality, although the construction may have been fast.

Captain Kidd's Adventure Galley, brand spanking new out of Deptford, was so leaky that he had to abandon her in Madagascar in 1698. In 1612, Thomas Best's Red Dragon, only a couple of weeks out of port and in calm weather, broke her main yard. Examination showed that the yard was made out of hemlock and was rotten, "which sheweth the badnes of the tree, the want of care in Mr. Burrell [the "great shipbuilder of the day"] and of honestie or skill in Chanlar." During the 1620-21 expedition to Algiers, the English vice-admiral wrote that of his six royal ships, three were completely unfit for sea, "being very laboursome and unable to carry out their lower tier of ordnance in any gale of winds." His flagship, the Lion, had bolts i pieces, the false stem decayed, an unstable orlop deck without enough knees to support it, and labored all its oakum out of her seams in the least foul weather. The Vasa, on her 1628 maiden voyage, proved so unstable that one gust of wind toppled her over and sank her. My favorite of all: when the buccaneer captain Cornelius Essex set out from Jamaica in 1680, before he even got to Portobello, the bow of his barque had begun to fall apart so completely that he had to tie the whole front of the vessel together with ropes. Why were 17th century ships, even the richest and most expensive ones made for the kings of the era, so prone to be completely unseaworthy? With Kidd or Essex, you could reasonably say that it was environmental factors: teredos and lack of opportunity to careen. But how on earth do royal shipbuilders keep their jobs (or even their heads) after giving their kings such shoddy work?

Well, since no one else is stepping forward... These events can happen on Navy ships, although most of them could happen on other kinds of ships too. Flogging a crewman Hanging a crewman (On Dutch ships) Keelhauling a crewman Man overboard, with possible boat launch to rescue him. Death or sickness of the captain, to be replaced by his senior lieutenant Storm, leading to loss of sails, masts, or yards, which may then be replaced by jury masts or spares. The "loose cannon" resulting from mere negligence or broken tackles. This is dangerous anywhere, but on a Navy ship, a loose 24-pounder is a truly fearsome thing: it will not only crush men, but smash right through bulkheads and wales and fall out into the ocean. If this happens below the waterline, the ship sinks. Crossing the equator (the Equinoctial, as it is called in period), with the accompanying dunking for the first-timers while the old-timers play Neptune and his court. The opening of sealed orders when one reaches the specified latitude (this is one of the few that's specifically naval). Mutiny, which can be either the kill-the-officers-and-run-off-with-the-ship type that we know from the movies, or the more common "harbor mutiny," where the crew basically just goes on strike and won't obey further orders, but commits no actual violence. N.A.M. Rodger says that this second kind of mutiny was usually dealt with very leniently, and often led to the Admiralty replacing the captain instead of punishing the crew, although I suspect him of bias. Arrival of freshly pressed men (this is another exclusively naval one), and surprising types of people sometimes get swept up in the press. Outbreak of sickness; this was tremendously common although you never see it in the movies. Scurvy, malaria, yellow fever, typhoid, dysentery, cholera . . . if that's not enough for you, go ask Mission, I'm sure he can name plenty more. The ship now flies the yellow flag of quarantine, which makes even the people who aren't sick miserable. Meeting a friendly ship and exchanging mail. The other ship isn't always happy to do this ("So back up your tops'ls and heave your vessel to / For we have got some letters to be carried home by you...") Dragging the anchor and getting blown toward (or . . .gulp . . . onto) shore. Accident to a crewman; besides falling overboard or getting crushed by loose cannons as above, you can get brained when a topman drops a marlinespike, fall from the yards onto the deck, have a yard fall on you, have a halyard break and hit you (particularly bad when the ramshead block is still attached to it), burn your hands sliding down a backstay, get your clothes or pigtail caught in a block, you name it . . . Ship catches on fire, or simply explodes in a powder magazine accident (see Morgan, Admiral Sir Henry). And of course, Navy ships sometimes get in sea battles, too.

One other thing. Barbossa's "bad makeup" is face powder, which he's taken to using since he became a gentleman privateer. I'm pretty sure the whole point is that it looks horrible because he hasn't a clue how to use it properly and it's all wrong for him anyway - as demonstrated by the stirring moment when he tears up his letter of marque.

Just got back from the 2-D showing. I enjoyed it overall; it grew on me as it went on. Like Blackjohn, I'd rank this third behind At World's End and Curse of the Black Pearl, but ahead of Dead Man's Chest. I wasn't happy with the first act at all. The action sequences were poorly edited, it never looked like anyone was actually trying to catch Jack. King George was neither realistic nor menacing. Way too much canned exposition in the back of the coach. The other major problem is how the movie wastes Penelope Cruz. My eyes love her as a pirate, but her character is terribly written, and her behavior winds up just being outright stupid. I'd like to see her back again with another character, but as an action heroine Angelica doesn't hold a candle to Elizabeth Swann. The movie starts getting real momentum from the minute Blackbeard walks onto the set. This is, of course, Blackbeard the myth, not Blackbeard the historical pirate, and why not? Everything else in POTC is myth: ghosts, Davy Jones, Aztec curses, the Kraken, the edge of the world. His control of Queen Anne's Revenge truly eerie and impressive. I like the way that Ian McShane understates the character and plays him with a straight-up American accent; not historically accurate for a Bristol-born man, of course, but a nice change from our previous villains. The mermaids were pretty cool, and seeing them destroy an entire ship was really impressive although I would have liked to see them a little less vampire-like, and to have Serena be more scary. When I heard that a mermaid's tear was necessary for the ritual, I had a vivid image of mermaids shedding tears while devouring the sailors, like crocodiles' tears that soften up the prey while they eat it; I would have liked to see that. Having a character who's at least a borderline religious fanatic, and yet is actually a pretty decent person, was different; I kind of liked it. I had no strong feelings about the zombies, but I thought the best way to deal with them would have been to chop off their weapon hands, then pick them up bodily and throw them overboard. The scenes on the island were so rich and lush, and the joy of Barbossa and Sparrow in recovering their ships is so wonderful, that by the end I was completely sold on the movie. One thing I missed completely:

Latest figure I've seen is 89 dead, and there could be many more in the rubble. The worst of the damage seems to be in an east-west corridor between 15th and 26th streets. 26th and Maiden Lane is where St. John's is, Academy Sports is between 15th and 20th on Range Line. The Dillon's, the high school, and the apartment complex on 20th Street are reported destroyed or heavily damaged. Freeman Hospital is still operating down on 32nd, so I guess that escaped the worst of the damage.

I lived in Joplin until last year. If I hear anything useful I'll try to put it here.

I liked Cutthroat Island too, though I could not stomach Polanski's Pirates. Like Cascabel, my favorite ever is the Heston Treasure Island; although there are many other good versions, that one's the best. Although, if you count The Princess Bride as a pirate movie, then it would be my favorite pirate movie. There's one fantastically obscure but very good pirate flick from Hammer Studios called The Devil-Ship Pirates, with Christopher Lee dialing it up to 10 as the nasty pirate captain who fools a whole town into thinking the Armada has captured England. Another very good and very different pirate film, now all but forgotten, is A High Wind in Jamaica - the title alone is poetic - with James Coburn and Anthony Quinn as pirates who accidentally abduct a bunch of schoolchildren.

Obviously, privateering articles. Here's a set of American privateer articles from the Seven Years' War. The purser's papers are described in the 1707 Sea-Man's Vade Mecum right from your time period. Read with care, as some of the instructions may be more applicable to Navy ships than privateers. The pilot also had to keep two journals on a long voyage, and often keep other papers:

One small datum of GAoP pirate boot use. French buccaneer Louis le Golif, while marching to the attack on Caracas, reported that "I marched in front, as was right, with my pistols in my belt, my fine high boots and plumed hat, and a sword at my side." Jenifer G. Marx, "Brethren of the Coast, " in Pirates: Terror on the High Seas from the Caribbean to the SOuth China Sea, David COrdingly, ed., North DIghton, MA: World Publications Group, 1998, p. 37-38. It does not mention the style of boot, and of course it is on land, not on a ship (but, notably, not riding). I assume this was during Grammont's abortive attack on Caracas in 1680, although the book does not say the date. Regarding the usefulness of being able to swim (and undesirability of wearing boots if you fell overboard): Harland devotes a whole chapter to the efforts of warships to recover men fallen overboard. Navy ships did rescue crewmen who fell overboard, generally by launching a cutter. If the seas were too heavy to risk launching a cutter, the ship itself would come about and try to rescue the man by throwing him a line, but that was usually in vain. Several pictures of actual rescue attempts and one picture of a ma overboard boat-launching drill are included. All these pictures are from the 19th century; it is possible that things were different in the GAoP. No doubt boots would be a serious handicap if you fell overboard; but then, a cuirass would be an even more serious handicap, and yet many 17th century naval officers are pictured in cuirasses.

One additional matter: consider the practicalities of the situation. You're the captain of a ship. It's very important to you to prevent violence and disorder aboard. Suddenly your mate reports to you that one of the female passengers is pregnant. She says her boyfriend is responsible. The girl's father is livid and threatening to cut off the boy's bollocks if he doesn't marry her. The passengers - or worse, the crew - are taking sides between boyfriend and father. And for whatever reason you have no pastor aboard or said pastor is unwilling to marry the pregnant girl to the boy. You want to defuse the situation quickly. A natural solution is to call girlfriend and boyfriend on deck and declare, "Do you take this man to be your wedded husband?" Girl says I do. "Do you take this woman to be your wedded wife?" Boyfriend's cooperation is obtained because he doesn't want his bollocks cut off by the father. "By the power vested in me . . . " (actually the captain has no such power, but the participants don't know that) ". . . I now pronounce you man and wife." And if the ship is from a jurisdiction which recognizes common law marriage or private marriage, where the simple exchange of vows is enough, the fact that the captain's pronouncement wasn't even legally necessary to solemnize the marriage will never become relevant.

The painting looks even cooler than the photo!

Elena, this is a very interesting question, and I congratulate you for the good research you have clearly already done. Have you seen this website of shipboard weddings? The vast majority are performed by a minister, but there are some exceptions. William Willcocks and Mary Thebder were married aboard the Young Australian on July 3, 1864; under the minister name it says "md by Master." Samuel Holt and Ida Timperley were married aboard the Resolute on August 6, 1865, and under the minister name it only says "Captain." These are the tiny minority, however; most shipboard couples are recorded as being married by a minister. You might take a look at Stone's The Family, Sex, and Marriage in England 1500-1800. It has nothing about captains marrying people (I'd have remembered, I'm sure), but it has lots of stuff about private marriage and marriage law, and besides, it's a gold mine for any novelist who wants to understand how family formed character in the GAoP period. As you point out, the Marriage Act of 1753 put an end to informal private marriages between youngsters without the parents' consent in England. The Scottish law didn't change! Thus, after 1753, you saw English kids galloping off to Gretna Green, just over the Scottish border, where they could be legally married. Regarding clergy on board; I don't know if seamen thought clergy were bad luck, but bad luck or not, the clergy were on the ships anyway. The very first article of the Articles of War required captains to "take care that prayers and preaching, by the chaplains in holy orders of the respective ships, be performed diligently." Merchant ships of 500 tons or more were required by law to carry chaplains. So if a captain was doing marriages, it was probably either 1) on a ship that was breaking the law or Articles of War, 2) on a merchant ship too small to be covered by the law, or 3) on a ship where the chaplain died or was too sick with scurvy or whatever to do his office.

Yes, I too would like to know both the phrase and the command.

I suppose that's a good one when you're falling . . .

When you go up onto a mast-head or yard you "lay aloft"; when you're going below decks you "lay below," and when you're coming up from below deck onto the upper deck you "lay topside." But what is the correct phrase for coming down from the yard or mast-head onto the upper deck? I've seen the phrase "lay down from aloft" in Harland, but that phrase seems unduly cumbersome compared to the others. Was it generally used?

What? Missouri gave a BSE to somebody who actually knows something worth teaching? Must have been a mistake! Congratulations on your achievement! Good luck in your job search. And when you find one, don't let the idiots in administration get under your skin. The students are all that matter.

Neat Jolly Roger you have there.

The average square rigged ship could sail about six points from the wind according to Harland; other sources vary, but six points is the most commonly given figure. Dusting off some old trigonometry skills, I figured that if a square rigger can lie six points from the wind, then to reach an objective in the wind's eye that lies 1 nautical mile distant, the ship must cover 2.613 nautical miles to tack to it. The actual distance would be somewhat greater because of leeway. Although I understand that modern sailboats often do some of their best sailing close to the wind, I think that a square rigger sails at its very slowest on the wind. If the wind is strong enough, the leeway may be so bad that the objective is completely unreachable. I've wondered how this fact combines with the inability to determine longitude accurately to affect navigation methods. If you are aiming at an objective to the north or south, and you set course directly toward it, you have an essentially 50% chance to arrive east or west of it. But arriving to the downwind side effectively leaves you more than 2.613 times further from your destination than arriving an equal distance upwind of it. Given that fact, I imagine an earlier 18th century navigator might deliberately "aim to miss" to the upwind side of his target, then turn and sail downwind to his mark once he reached the correct latitude. Consider, for example, someone sailing from Martinique to Cape Verde, a frequent stopping point en route to Guinea. We've all heard of sailing on the latitude line to protect against errors in longitude estimation, but if you try to sail to Cape Verde on the latitude line, you'll be tacking against the trade winds all the way, and you'll effectively turn a 2,170 nautical mile voyage into a 5,670 mile one. On the other hand, you can sail due north to the horse latitudes at about 31 degrees North, then northeast across the horse latitudes until you reach the prevailing westerlies at about 36 degrees North, then sail east until approximately the longitude of Cape Verde. Then you point not at Cape Verde but approximately at Dakar (Africa is too big to miss, no matter how bad your longitude estimate is). Once you hit the African coast, just turn west when you've reached the latitude of Cape Verde. Total distance is about 4,283 nautical miles, a lot better than the 5,670 mile distance you travel tacking along the latitude line. I don't know for sure if "aiming upwind" was actual Golden Age practice. One thing I do notice, though: of the various Cape Verde islands, Maio (the "Isle of May") seems to have been by far the most commonly mentioned as a stopover place by sailors coming from America. Maio is the easternmost of the major islands, and is the first one you hit if you sail from a little above Dakar on the African coast due west along the latitude line.

Look, no grappling hooks. Instead, the boarders use boat hooks! Obvious reasons, too: the boat hooks must be a lot easier to control, although they have a lot less range. Do we know any historical case where boarders use boat hooks? Regarding attack from multiple entry points, I think that would obviously be desirable, but very difficult to do in practice. Coordinating the attacks to start simultaneously under fire would be very difficult. Look at what happened to Captain England and Captain La Buse when they tried to attack the Cassandra simultaneously; only England got close enough to board, and that attempt was bloodily repulsed. If you have only one ship, then you have to use boats to to provide multiple attack points, again very vulnerable under fire. The fact that the defenders sometimes shoot the attacker's oars to pieces (which also happened in the attack on the Cassandra) would make it even harder to coordinate the attacks. The only reasonable chance I can see for attacking from multiple directions is attack with two or more boats at night, with silence and complete surprise.

Reading Dampier, I noticed that after he and his group split from Sharp's buccaneers and landed in Panama, they had no tents. I guess there were none in the vessel, since their brother buccaneers were otherwise pretty generous, giving them flour, a launch and two canoes, and several days preparation time. Dampier mentions that they built "Hutts" each night for shelter. Anyone know what kind of huts the buccaneers might have built? I imagine we're talking about something like a Boy Scout lean-to, as I can't imagine there being time (or energy after a long march!) to build much more. Are there any pictures? Anyone built one?

I wonder; under Austrian law was the finder allowed to keep the treasure? I'm guessing not, given that the government is giving all the interviews and the finder doesn't even want to be identified. What if this happened in America? I think that in America the land owner usually owns whatever turns up on his land. Certainly the land ower owns all the mineral rights to oil, gold, and suchlike valuable stuff that is buried under his land, but I'm not sure if archaeological finds are treated the same way. Contrast to medieval Europe, where King Richard the Lion Heart got himself killed fighting with one of his vassals over the right to the gold the vassal found on his land.

I've started on Dampier's A New Voyage Around the World. Meantime trying to keep my Spanish sharp by reading Don Quixote. That should keep me busy this summer.

Is "sunanche" an old word for sunburn? Is "perpneumonia" short, or a misspelling, for "peripneumonia?" I had to look up "scotomatic"; it's a disease that impairs part of your field of vision while leaving the rest clear. I did not know that.