Brown Bess

[capnwilliam]

While not strictly piratical or nautical, the British Brown Bess musket dates to the Golden Age of piracy, and they were carried and used aboard ship and by landing parties.

I came across this poem by Rudyard Kipling a few days ago.

Readin' the last couple of lines makes me choke; but then, I'm weird

********************

BROWN BESS: The Army Musket -- 1700 - 1815.

In the days of lace-ruffles, perukes and brocade

Brown Bess was a partner whom none could despise--

An out-spoken, flinty-lipped, brazen-faced jade,

With a habit of looking men straight in the eyes--

At Blenheim and Ramilles fops would confess

They were pierced to the heart by the charms of Brown Bess.

Though her sight was not long and her weight was not small,

Yet her actions were winning, her language was clear;

And everyone bowed as she opened the ball

On the arm of some high-gaitered, grim grenadier.

Half Europe admitted the striking success

Of the dances and routs that were given by Brown Bess.

When ruffles were turned into stiff leather stocks,

And people wore pigtails instead of perukes,

Brown Bess never changed her iron-grey locks--

She knew she was valued for more than her looks.

"Oh, powder and patches was always my dress,

And I think am killing enough", said Brown Bess.

So she followed her red-coats, whatever they did,

From the heights of Quebec, to the plains of Assaye,

From Gibraltar to Acre, Cape Town and Madrid,

And nothing about her was changed on the way;

(But most of the Empire which now we possess

Was won through those years, by old-fashioned Brown Bess.)

In stubborn retreat, or in stately advance,

From the Portugal coast to the cork-woods of Spain,

She had puzzled some excellent Marshalls of France

Till none of them wanted to meet her again:

But later, near Brussels, Napoleon--no less--

Arranged for a Waterloo ball with Brown Bess.

She had danced till the dawn of that terrible day--

She danced till the dusk of more terrible night,

And before her linked squares, his battalions gave way,

And her long fierce quadriles put his lancers to flight;

And when his gilt carriage drove off in the press,

"I have danced my last dance for the world!" said Brown Bess.

If you go to Museums--there's one in Whitehall--

Where old weapons are shown, with their names writ beneath,

You will find her, upstanding, her back to the wall,

As stiff as a ramrod, the flint in her teeth.

And if ever we English had reason to bless

Any arm save our mothers" : that arm is Brown Bess!

************

Capt. William

[Black Deacon]

You are correct. Where as most people think of Flintlock pistols as the most used weapon the muskets were far more common. It is always better to pick your opponent off than have to face him with steel in a boarding. Volley of cannon and musket be very affective before you get there.

[Matty Bottles]

It's a fine poem.

[Rumba Rue]

Ah I see, another explanation o' why the brown pants....

Rumba Rue

**Mind like a steel trap, rusty and illegal in 37 states**

[hitman]

Poetry for the NRA member that be me much abliged capnwilliam.

['Salem Bob']

Aye Cap'n,

But Sea-Service muskets wern't strictly speaking 'brown bess(s)'. The Ordinance board laid out very strict regulations concerning precisely what the land service musket would be, and it's quality. The Sea-Service muskets onthe other hand were often cobbled together out of odds and ends, not uncommonly with beach (considered an inferior wood) stocks.

The official lock for the Sea Service musket was a relic of King William or Queen Annes days in design (up until the 1770's), being a flat lock plate lock, with an earlier style cock (hammer), the pan not having the fence marking a lock of decent quality, and the furniture being simpler and cruder. Most were stocked their full length, until the Admiralty board ordered their stocks cut back, to be able to accept a bayonet in the year 1752. I have seen any number of odd barrel types on British Sea-Service muskets, including Dutch and French barrels, and even antique matchlock barrels. Most sea-service muskets were jappaned black, over all surfaces, and the finish of the barrel being 'blackwork and file finish', not bright - 'bright' muskets were known and listed in ships stores. Perhaps they rate - 'black-besses, cut rate, and cobbled together out of the lowest bidders spares'. :)

Now Marines muskets were indeed 'brown besses' - they were issued to the marines as if they were a land establishment, but these were often of an older pattern (wooden rammers prevailing for a long time), and were as the 18th century progressed given a simpler pattern the Ordinance board designated "Marine & Millitia" pattern, showing precisely where the marines rated in terms of quality of equipment issued.

(edited to correct a date, 1752 was the year sea-service muskets were ordered to be able to accept bayonets)

[Hawkyns]

The Gunner's Mistress

Dame 'And-Cannon's an 'airy 'hore, who cross the rampart lays

Huge breech, thin neck, and fulgent vent, she vulgarly displays

Black Jack cares not, he's loaded her and primed her parts full well-

'Tis thoughts of buxom Barbara 'pon which his mind doth dwell.

His smouldering stick is well in hand, all ready for his need.

He firmly grips the homely dame... prepares her for the deed.

Uncouth he is, an earthy type...he pulls her to his hip

Then stick aglow he futters her and rams her with the tip.

She shouts and roars and jerks about... her bowels all aquiver.

Then Jack stands up and lets her lie... she's had all he can give 'er.

Our Matchlock madam, coarse and strong, inspires much more devotion.

Needs finer care and many tricks before she's put in motion.

She isn't very comely but at least her hole has covers.

When charged to go she'll lie demure while gunner o'er her hovers.

That youthful fellow's pliant wick is long and brightly glowing

And does he well to place it right - privily, with knowing.

He cuddles her and holds her tight while fondling with her tricker

He bares her vent and plunges down: his glowing point doth 'wick' her

Just like her aunt she puts out much, her climax is explosion

She kicks with joy and shoots with glee and yearns for more devotion.

Miss Wheelock is a wanton wench and spurns our peasant gunner:

She'll only let her spring be wound by tool of wealthy spanner.

Her shape is often delicate - adornment is not spared.

She's finely tuned and comes of quick when properly prepared.

From common stares she hides her vent with a pretty little cover,

Which very promptly opens wide when nosed by 'doghead' lover.

Her wheel and vent get stiff and clogged from several acts of using,

So give her preparation- before the shot you're losing.

But at the final moment she's the same as all the rest,

A whirr, a shout, the flame shoots out... our girl has done her best.

The Fintlock filly's full of fun, she has no class pretension.

From loving Richard's point of view she is a great invention.

She's tall and slim and may be plain, but always full of grace

And she's gained a most important part to share her secret place.

Her vital vent is as before but now she has a frizzen.

If gunners cocky flint kiss this then sparks begin to sizzle.

You'll her her hiss as burning fire drives deep into her chamber

She'll kick and roar as those of yore, but Dick does love to tame her.

She'll go again full many a time but he must wash her frizzen.

He'll lick it clean and all is well as oft as he is risen.

Plani-Jane Perc's a promiscuous queen, she'll come with any person

Sired by 'Bible-preaching Scot, called something like MacPherson.

Austerely hidden are her fires, she looks so prim and neat.

Her venus parts the Scot abhorred,,, he left her just one teat.

Vent and frizzen he deemed sin so she must use that nipple

Just cap the tip with fulminate...it's not much fun... but simple,

No wick or cock, no flint or fire, tho' loading still needs rammer

Anyone can set her off... just hit her with a hammer!

Godliness and cleanliness were in that dour Scot's mind...

So if you use her, clean her well, or spoil her bore - you'll find.

If you could get a crystal ball and see into the future

You'll find your erstwhile loving mate is now the dominant partner.

Gone are the skills that made guns fun, it's purely now mechanical.

Two Yankee doctors showed the girls that love is almost clinical.

The 'Cordite Cat' has many names- Machine-Gun is a good one.

The males are golden phallus shaped, but don't have any fun.

She keeps them boxed up, row and row, waiting at her leisure.

Then draws them deep in to her breech- they scarcely feel the pleasure

She'll have them singly, shot by shot, or eat a dozen running

It seems that tech. and Women's Lib have spoiled the art of gunning.

Written by one of the truly great gunsmiths, Kit Ravenshear. This Brit was true genius with steel and wood. He die a couple of years ago, in one of the best possible ways- on a beach in the South of France with a drink is his hand. I raise my tankard to ye, Kit.

Hawkyns

[Longarm]

That truly sounds like a great way to go for a great gunsmith and a true wordsmith as well. I raise my tankard with the Hawkyns, such skills are hard to find, and a great sadness to lose.

Perhaps someday you can tell us more about the man an his words.