History: A Call for Help

Hale and fair winds to one and all! This is a shout-out to my distant cousins who come from the far flung clan Beluche and to pirates and lover of history - particularly maritime history - everywhere.

Above is a bust of my ancestor, Renato Beluche. I know the Brethren are familiar but for anyone who would like to know more about this man's contributions to the life and liberty of the United States and the greater Gulf region, click on the label at the end of this post.

This bust, executed by a Venezuelan artist in the 1950s, was donated as a gift to the Louisiana State Museum. It was unfortunately swiftly relegated to an attic in the Cabildo in New Orleans for over half a century: disrespected, unseen, nearly forgotten.

Thanks to the Friends of the Cabildo and the hard, dedicated endeavors of people like my particular friend and distnat Beluche relation Thais Solano, the bust was found and restored. This just in time for the Bicentennial exhibition celebrated the Battle of New Orleans. This is currently on exhibit at the Cabildo and I highly recommend it. Beluche's bust features prominently in the exhibit with pride of place in the first hall.

The problem? The Battle of New Orleans exhibit will be taken down in October of this year. Where, we as Beluches' descendants and admirers wonder, will his stately bust end up?

We need your help, Brethren, to ensure that this does not happen. We need to you to raise your voices - as only we pirates truly can - to insist that the bust stays on permanent display. The options are many, but what a wonderful home could be made at the home where he was born on Rue Dumaine. This former private residence is now known by the fictional name of Madame John's Legacy and is part of the Louisiana State Museum as well.

Please take a moment to email Mr. Tulios at the Louisiana State Museum at mtulios@crt.la.gov and respectfully request that Beluche's but remain on display permanently. You can also reach out to Jason at the Friend of the Cabildo at Jason@friendsofthecabildo.gov with the same request. The more people they hear from, the more seriously they will take this petition.

The moment is now. We need to act. I count on the Brethren to come through to preserve a fading part of the maritime history of the Americas: the memory of Renato Beluche.

Please leave your comments with any questions or concerns, or to let me know if you had any response to your emails.

Finally, thank you my dear friends. My heart is still here, with Triple P, even if my mind must be elsewhere.

Merci, and bonne chance!

Bust of Renato Beluche with a mural of the Battle of New Orleans in the background, by kind courtesy of Thais Solano

Update: so it does look at is the email address I included in this post are incorrect. Corrections:

Mr. Tullos - mtullos@crt.la.gov
Jason - Jason@friendsofthecabildo.org

My mistake (that's what I get for hurrying!)

Books: "Remains of ... Unhappy Creatures"

On Thursday the 11th, the U.S. Coast Guard published the findings of its inquiry into the sinking of the HMS Bounty off the Atlantic coast in October of 2012. According to the evidence available, the Coast Guard found the Captain and a too small, too green crew to be at fault. From the NBC News article:

Specifically, the choosing to navigate a vessel in insufficient material condition in close proximity to an approaching hurricane with an inexperienced crew was highlighted. 

A similar situation occurred some 160 years ago in January of 1854 when the brand new iron clad merchant vessel named RMS Tayleur encountered foul weather on her voyage from Liverpool in England to the far away shores of Melbourne. In her new book, The Sinking of RMS Tayleur, author and psychologist Gill Hoffs tells the sad tale of the sinking of a "Victorian Titanic".

As Hoffs tells us, both candidly and engagingly, Tayleur had everything going for her on her maiden voyage. She was a massive vessel, 230 feet long and displacing over 1,700 tons. Her holds were 30 feet deep and she would carry 650 souls toward a new life in New South Wales. Her Captain, John Noble, was a veteran seaman with a laundry list of successful voyages and happy owners under his belt. No one seemed to doubt his capability to select a crew and run and tight ship.

No one bothered to scrutinize the fact that the crew of Tayleur had quite literally been foisted on Noble without his consent, or that the Captain himself had taken a horrible fall from one of Tayleur's masts only days before she was to get under weigh. The persistent hurry of her owners, specifically Pilkington and Wilson and collectively the White Star Line, to get her out onto the open sea overshadowed these issues. Along with the unfortunate havoc that Tayleur's iron hull was playing with her three compasses and the "patent rudder" - not built for a ship as fast and large as she was - that she shipped, anyone well versed in the art of sail would have wondered at her speedy launch.

Speedily launched she was, however. This to the utter calamity of all aboard her.

Hoffs walks us through the terrible tragedy of that January night when, after apparently steering in the wrong direction due to those ill-working compasses, Tayleur found herself in the middle of a frightening Irish Sea storm on a rocky lee shore with sails wide open to the brutal wind and her rudder unable to answer. The incompetent crew, despite help from more than one seaworthy passenger, could not rescue the ship from her fate. Captain Noble himself, seemingly dazed to unresponsiveness by consecutive sleepless nights, made no decisions at all. Precious moments ticked by as Tayleur inched toward her doom.

Her passengers panicked; men trampled women and women stumbled over children in a desperate attempt to save themselves. Some made it to land, only to cling to the cold, wet shore in desperation. 360 people, including most of the 70 crew members and the gallant, heroic ship's surgeon Robert Cunningham along with his wife and children, would go to their death in or around the wreck. Survivors spoke of seeing bloodied bodies in nightclothes sloshing on the surface of the water. Battered body parts, ripped apart by the force of waves and shore, would be found along the coast for weeks to come.

The sinking of this "unsinkable" iron clad sent shock waves through English society. In total, four inquiries were heard and it was found that the crew, and particularly the Captain of Tayleur - who himself had survived her demise - were at fault. The White Star line was also soundly castigated for rushing Tayleur to sea with a hold full of innocent lives. The company went bankrupt and was reinstated again only to produce another tragic vessel: RMS Titanic.

Hoffs telling of the sad story of RMS Tayleur is energetic and insightful. The author is at her best when she is painting vignettes of the people whose lives were effected by the mighty ship and its sinking. There is the sad Dr. Cunningham who lost one of his sons while trying to save him, returned to the ship for the other and lost him as well, all while his wife watched. Then there is the man transported for theft who returned to the mother of his child after ten long years. He married her and planned to take his family back to Australia where they would grow rich in the gold rush, only to see them all drown.

Her most intriguing point, however, and one that I have not been seen before, regards Captain Noble himself. Did his fall just before Tayleur's launch cause damage to his brain that did not have time to heal and was then exacerbated by long nights of stress on his ship's deck? Did this unfortunate chain of events lead an historically solid Captain to tragic decision making - or lack thereof?

Thoughts worth pondering just as much as the book is well worth reading. Find the book at Amazon or your local bookseller.

* I believe I have to add that Ms. Hoffs' publisher, Pen & Sword, provided me with a copy of  The Sinking of RMS Tayleur for the purposes of this review. Hopefully I did that right; I'm used to buying the books I review so this is quite the thrill.

History: Vikings: More than "Hairy Raiders"

I don't usually wish I would soon be off to Europe but the new exhibition now open at the British Museum makes me long for a jet-setting trip to London. There I would explore all things Viking - an old Norse word meaning "pirate". I'd probably just sleep at the Museum; why miss a moment of so much history? If you'd care to see a wonderful video on the exhibition, and be briefly schooled in the fact that our Viking ancestors were "more than just hairy raiders", click here.

My thanks to the First Mate for the link and to The History Channel for Seasons 1 and 2 of "The Vikings" (picture above via THC). I'm sure all the Brethren are watching the show - now on Thursday evenings - and have a favorite character. Mine, you ask? No, not Ragnar's warrior first wife; it's the cheerfully sinister boat builder known as Floki. I love that guy!

A Special Request

We all need a little help, from the Universe, from our Saints and Spirits, or from our fellow creatures here on Earth - and sometimes from all three. So when a highly thought of member of the Brethren is in that kind of  need, I know that one and all will jump to.

That's why I'm here to ask your help on behalf of that Triple P favorite and long time supporter, Captain John Swallow. The Captain and his Quartermaster have come upon troublesome times thanks to unethical people over whom our fellow sailors have no control. The ship's at stake, and it's up to us to save her.

Please take a moment to click over to this link and read about the entire situation. Then, as the goodhearted pirates you all are, please give what you can. Your gift need not be monitary either; remember, the wayward Universe hears the prayers of privateers and pirates alike.

My thanks go out to you all. Your goodness is your reward... But then none of us would ever sail in company with a wretch who didn't know that already, would we?

Header: Three Ships via Naval Architecture

Women at Sea: Lilac Chen Part II

Last we spoke of Lilac Chen, the unfortunate girl from China circa 1893, she was on her way to San Francisco without anyone asking her whether sailing across wave to an entirely alien world was something she might care to do. A slave, Lilac had no choice in the matter. And so, we pick up her story as told by her from the standpoint of her own salvation by a missionary in San Francisco named Miss Cameron:

Oh, God has just been wonderful. Just think, I was in such close waters for damnation myself! This woman, who brought me to San Francisco,, was called Mrs. Lee, and she kept the biggest dive in San Francisco Chinatown. Oh, she had a lot of girls, slave girls, you know. And every night, seven o'clock, all these girls were dressed in silk and satin, and sat in front of a big window, and the men would look in and choose their girls who they'd want for the night. Of course, I  didn't know anything, never heard about such things, you know. And whenever police or white people came, they always hid me under the bed and pushed a trunk in front of me and then after the police had left they let me come out again. And I saw these girls all dressed in silk and satin, and they were waiting for their business, see. But I didn't know anything.

When this woman needed money, she had to sell me to another party. Everywhere I had been they were very kind to me, except this last place she sent me. Oh, this woman was so awful! They say she was a domestic servant before and was cruelly treated. She used to make me carry a big fat baby on my back and make me to wash his diapers. And you know, to wash you have to stoop over, and then he pulls you back, and cry and cry. Oh, I got desperate, I didn't care what happened to me, I just pinched his cheek, his seat you know, just gave it to him. The of course I got it back. She, his mother, went and burned a red hot iron tong and burnt me on the arm. Then someone reported me to the home. But they described me much bigger than I was so when they came they didn't recognize me. And then the woman who had reported to the mission said, "Why didn't you take her? She's the girl." They said, "She looked so small," and then they came back again. But even then, they weren't sure that I was the one, so they undressed me and examined my body and found where the woman had beaten me black and blue all over. And then they took me to the home. Oh, it was in the pouring rain! I was scared to death. You know, change from change, and all strangers, and I didn't know where I was going. Away from my own people and in the pouring rain. And they took me, a fat policeman carried me all the way from Jackson Street, where I was staying, to Sacramento Street to the mission, Cameron House. So I got my freedom there. *

Lilac became an integral part of Miss Cameron's work, helping the American missionary and rescue worker to find girls even less fortunate than herself and rescue then from where they were "... sold to work in the dives, or as domestic servants, and bring them to Cameron House so they could be free... When we went on a raid we always took several of our own girls with us to help. Generally I would follow Miss Cameron as interpreter and she and I would go into the house through a door or a window... Poor Miss Cameron, she never knew about these dives, you know. Scottish people, especially the refined, never discussed these things... So nobody told her, she was so innocent. These slave girls used to have terrific sores, and she had to dress the sores, you know. She never wore gloves, you see, and really, it's just the providence of God kept her from these diseases."

Lilac's admiration for Miss Cameron shines through like the innocence Lilac managed somehow to keep through all her harrowing, horrific experiences. Perhaps the saddest and most poignant fact that comes from the story of Lilac Chen is that children like her exist, and are being abused, neglected and exploited, even as I type these words. Slavery and its horrible consequences are not issues for historical research, they are very real matters of global economics that should be addressed far more explicitly than our current climate of "look the other way and we'll all feel good" journalism allows.

Thank goodness there are still people who will march into dives and rescue those who go unnamed, unknown and under-served.

* All quotes from the book Victorian Women Edited by E. O. Hallerstein, L. P. Hume and K. M. Offen, Stanford University Press c 1981

Header: Chinese Slave Prostitute via National Women's History Museum online

Women at Sea: Lilac Chen Part I

When women came from the far east, or Asia if you prefer, to North America, they were not always well treated and welcomed. Particularly children - both girls and boys - were used as sexual slaves and made into what they may not have been in their home state or wished to be for themselves.

The story of Lilac Chen, whose beautiful name does not resemble her unfortunate life, is an extreme example. Swept from her home and over the sea, she may never have amounted to much. But Lilac, a fighter, a survivor, made more of herself than most of us do. Thanks to the wonderful editors of Victorian Women, c 1981, we know a bit about this amazing child who fought so hard to become an amazing woman:

I was six when I came to this country in 1893. My worthless father gambled every cent away, and so, left us poor. I think my mother's family was well-to-do, because our grandmother used to dress in silk and satin and always brought us lots of things. And the day my father took me, he fibbed and said he was taking me to see my grandmother, that I was very fond of, you know, and I got on the ferry boat with him, and Mother was crying, and I couldn't understand why she would cry if I go to see Grandma  She gave me a new toothbrush and a new washing in a blue bag when I left her\. When I saw her cry I said, "\Don't cry, Mother, I'm just going to see Grandma and be right back." And that worthless father, my own father, imagine, had every inclination to sell me, and he sold me on the ferry boat. Locked me in the cabin while he was negotiating my sale. And I kicked and screamed and screamed and they wouldn't open the door till after some time, you see, I suppose he had made his bargain and had left the steamer; Then they opened the door and let me out and I went up and down, up and down, here and there, couldn't find him. And he had left me, you see, with a strange woman. That woman, it was suppertime, took me to Ningpo, China, to eat, and I refused to eat, I wanted to go home, and then she took me to Shanghai and left me with another woman. That woman never asked me to work and was very kind to me, and I was there, I don't know for how long. Then a woman from San Francisco came, and picked me up and brought me over.  

And the horror has only begun for poor Lilac Chen. But that is all for tonight; isn't it?

Header:Ladies of Vancouver via China.org

History: A Tantalizing Find

Ahoy Brethren! I hope this post finds you all in booty, wenches and grog... Or at least grog. I've missed you all and think of you often, honestly.

Today I'm sharing a recent find of shipwrecks in the Gulf of Mexico, that haven for Laffite, Beluche, Aury, Gambi, Youx and a hundred other early 19th century pirates/privateers who served the revolutionary states of Central and South America to various degrees of faithfulness.

This article from ABC online talks about a "thrilling" find of not one but three shipwrecks from around the Laffite era - circa 1810 to 1825. The ships are small, two masted, and carrying no more that eight guns. From the minimal information in the article, which as it notes raises more questions than answers, it appears that the ships may have wrecked in weather such as a gale or hurricane.

For me, a distant relative of Renato Beluche and an old archaeologist at heart and by training, this really gets the imagination running. Could one of these ships be the lost L'Intrepide, captained by Beluche before the War of 1812 and lost in a hurricane off the Louisiana coast some time in 1810 or '11? Beluche and his surviving crew were stranded for some weeks on Little Cat Island, which is now under water, and only rescued when another Laffite associate happened to sail close enough to the island to see their driftwood fires. The size and armament of the ships certainly raises the possibility.

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing, however. It may be too much to hope for, and perhaps just my wild, seafaring imagination taking me places that the same archaeologist in me knows I should not rightly go.

And yet, oh how exciting are all those possibilities...

Header: The Night Watch via Naval Architecture

Sunday Sea Stories

It is Sunday once again and, here in the U.S., Mother's Day. So happy, happy to all the mothers among the Brethren. Here's a few offerings for your reading and viewing pleasure.

First off, you can once again walk the streets of the town of Epecuen, Argentina. The place has "come up for air" after being underwater since 1985. See amazing photos here.

Over at the Berkshire Eagle, there's word that famed sailor and author Herman Melville's homestead is getting a makeover.

Meanwhile, it looks like the STARZ network is jumping on the series bandwagon with a new one about a subject near and dear to my heart: the Golden Age of Piracy. Watch the trailer for "Black Sails" here. (Thanks to my friend Ken over at "A Woodrunner's Diary" for the head's up on this.)

Do you like Vikings? Of course you do. So you'll love that the British Museum has revamped a building to display the largest Viking ship ever discovered.

Still hungry for more? Might I suggest my dear friends Undine and Blue Lou's new ventures on the web: Strange Company and The Journal of Blue Lou now at Wordpress, respectively. You won't be able to stay away.

Header: A cog or caravel rendered in gold, mother-of-pearl and semiprecious stones as a brooch made in the 16th c via my friend Erick on Twitter.

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Iron

And, I'm back. Miss me? Just time enough today for a look at the word iron at sea and on the dock. And we're not just talking about the famous ironclads CSS Virginia (ex-Merrimack) and USS Monitor here.

So let us start, then, with ironclad vessels. Also spoken of as ironcased, coated or plated, these were the ships, emerging in the 19th century, entirely encased in iron plates. The trick of making such vessels seaworthy was one that led to the practice of putting plate on only specific parts that were more open to missiles until the dawn of the 20th century iron age ship.

By the 19th century, most ships had some iron parts. Iron work was the general name for these and any pieces of iron used in the construction of ships or equipment for ships. Iron bound blocks were those fitted with iron strops. The "iron horse" was the latter-day iron railing of the head attached most usually to the fore- or boom-sheet. A ship was said to be iron-sick when her iron work was coming loose from the timbers and her sheathing nails are rusted. A sorry condition that no right-thinking sailor would allow.

A coast may be spoken of as iron-bound when it is made up of rocks that are predominately perpendicular to the sea as they rise up from it. These are dangerous shores indeed, and should be avoided at all costs.

A ship may be said to be in irons when, as Admiral Smyth explains in The Sailor's Word Book:

... by mismanagement, she is permitted to come up in the wind and lose her way; so that, having no steerage, she must either be boxed off on the former track, or fall off on the other; for she will not cast one way or the other, without bracing in the yards.

Irons are the tools used by caulkers, of which my grandfather was proudly one, to hammer oakum into the wooden seams of a vessel. These are sometimes known as boom irons, probably for their loud racket while in use. Grandpa went deaf caulking. Irons were also, of course, the bilboes that would be fitted around a miscreant sailor's ankles to keep him both in place and in discomfort. Sailors, with their sarcastic wit, might euphemistically refer to same as "iron garters."

And a ship might be lovingly spoken of as having "iron-sides" when she seemed immune to the blasts of enemy cannon. Here in the U.S., we still know one of our first frigates, USS Constitution, as "Old Ironsides."

Thus ends another addition of SMS. Fair winds and following sees, Brethren, until next we meet...

Header: Hudson River Under the Moonlight by M. F. Hendrik de Haas via American Gallery

Sunday Sea Stories

Since my time is limited right now, but my curiosity continues at a pace, I'll try to update the Brethren on stories from history and around the web on Sunday afternoon. Nothing fancy of course, but hopefully a good read or two to start off your week.

First up, the awesome paintings above are from this article over at the UK Telegraph entitled "Historical Figures for the 21st Century." Of course there's Nelson as above, a little heavier due to his modern fate as a desk jockey but with a splendid prosthetic arm. Whatever would Emma say? Also in the mix are Henry VIII looking vaguely like Gerard Butler, his daughter good Queen Bess and a surprisingly hipster Will Shakespeare. Who knew?

Next, this little winner from NBC News. A women's group thought they were hiring an pirate expert to speak on the Golden Age. Instead they got a victim of modern piracy with a harrowing tale of survival. But, being a good sport, he did stay to judge the pirate costume contest after his lecture.

While not particularly related to seafaring per ce, this article from the NYT's continuing series on the Civil War should be of interest to anyone with a fascination for history in general and women's history in particular. Entitled "Rape and Justice in the Civil War", the author discusses the Leiber Laws and their application to Southern women attacked by Union troops; both free and slave.

On a modern note, USS Anchorage arrived on Tuesday in hers and my home city, Anchorage, Alaska, for her commissioning today.

Also of interest: On May 3, 1810, George Gordon Lord Byron along with his friend and marine lieutenant Ekenhead of HMS Salsette swam across the Dardanelles Strait.

Today, May 5, in 1828 the American Seaman's Friend Society of New York City was established. Their mission: to supply books via "floating libraries" to U.S. Navy and Merchant ships at sea. Also on this day in 1861 the U.S. Naval Academy moved from Annapolis, Maryland to Newport, Rhode Island for the duration of the Civil War.

And so I will leave you with a quote: The real difference between civilized and savage man consists in the knowledge of knots and rope work. ~ A. Hyatt Verrill

Meta: A Picture Worth a Thousand Words

It has been rather a troublesome week here at chez Pauline and, along with that, I am preparing for a licensing exam on Tuesday so just a brief post today. I wanted to share this gorgeous frigate whose picture I found over at the always engrossing Naval Architecture. The first picture today is equally as lovely and daydream inducing. Fair winds to all!

Seafaring Sunday: Doctor van Riebeeck

April 21, 1619: Jan van Riebeeck is born in the Netherlands. Van Riebeeck will follow his father into the physician's trade. He became a naval surgeon and was instrumental in the founding of what is now Cape Town in South Africa. The stop, complete with van Riebeeck's brainchild the Fort of Goede Hoop (Good Hope), would give sick and injured seamen a resting point on the long, arduous cruises undertaken by the Dutch and later the British East India Companies.

Header: Contemporary portrait of van Riebeeck by an anonymous artist via Wikimedia

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Steer

Most of us are familiar with today's word. We steer our cars, our bicycles, our skateboards, our lives; and steer at sea has similar meaning. Not surprisingly perhaps, it has different ones as well.

Steering, according to the oft-quoted Admiral Smyth, comes from the Anglo-Saxon word steoran. To quote the Admiral once again:

The perfection of steering consists in a vigilant attention to the motion of the ship's head, so as to check every deviation from the line of her course in the first instant of its commencement, and in applying as little of the power of the helm as possible, for the action of the rudder checks a ship's speed.

Thus a skilled helmsman is capable of keeping a ship at her optimal speed while staying on her optimal course. A helmsman might also be called a steersman for this very reason. As an aside, the word for helmsman in French is timonier, from the French word for helm: timon. Thus in the Cinque Ports era and somewhat beyond, the word timoneer might be used for the steersman.

To steer large is to allow her to go free or to steer her loosely. To steer her small is the opposite; as the Admiral puts it "to steer well and within small compass, not dragging the tiller over from side to side." To steer her course is to go with a fair wind, allowing it to move the ship along on her charted course. Steerage way indicates the ship has enough room to use her helm effectively for steering.

An old, and the Admiral notes incorrect, term for studding sails is steering-sails.

Steerage, that fateful term so familiar to many an American whose ancestors came over in it, originally meant the act of steering. Steerage, when one spoke of the decks of a fighting ship, often referred to where the mechanisms of the helm worked their way to the tiller. Thus, the deck below the quarter and immediately before the bulkhead of the great cabin was steerage. Sometimes, the Admiral's cabin on the middle deck of a three-decker was known by this name. When passenger ships came into vogue in the late 19th century, steerage acquired its less-than-savory reputation as the lowest deck before the bilge where the least of the passengers were crammed together like the rats among them. It is only one such as Jame Cameron, in his high fantasy film Titanic, who would have the temerity to portray this steerage as the most delightful and carefree deck aboard a liner.

And finally, on a similar note, there is the word steeving, which applies to the painting above. In this now mostly archaic form of rigging, the bowsprit's angle was some 70 or 80 degrees above the horizon. This made it a proper mast upon which a sail could be rigged as shown.

And with that, I wish you a happy Saturday once again and all steerage way upon your cruises, Brethren.

Header: HMS Surprise by Randal Wilson via NAVART

History: Aboard The Terrible

April 15: Light Aires and Fair Weather: at 7 PM saw 2 Sails Bearing NbE: to the SoWard at 5 AM Saw a Sail on the Lee Quarter Ware and gave Chace Sett all Sailes & Chace bore away and Set all Sailes She could Perceived her to be a Brigg At 9 saw a French Man of War to Windward She hoisted her Colours We hoisted ours we in full Chace at 12 hoisted our colors and fired a Shot at the Chace at 12 she hoisted American Colors fired several shots at her at noon she fired two stern Chaces at us, continued the Chace

April 16: Still in Chace Fired several shots at her 1 Chace struck her colours and Shortened Sail, we began to take in our Sailes brought to as did the Chace Hoisted out a Boate and sent an Officer on Board She proved to be an American Privateer Brigg called the Rising States, Capt Thompson Commander Carr, 12 six pounders eight of which she had hove overboard chased and 61 men She had taken three English vessels

~ copied verbatim, including spelling and punctuation, from the log of Captain Richard Bickerton, HMS Terrible of 74 guns, in the English Channel, 1777

Header: Towing a Privateer by A. Roux c 1806 via Naval Architecture

Seafaring Sunday: Royal Navy Uniform

April 13, 1748: The first official uniform was prescribed for officers in the Royal Navy of Britain. The standard included a white waistcoat, breeches and stockings, a blue coat with cuffs and gold buttons, and a black, tricorn hat with gold lace and cockade.

For a more in depth discussion of this milestone, see this excellent post at Not By Appointment, where the above example of the original captain's undress uniform came from.

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Break

While the word break generally makes lubbers think - when they think of the sea at all - of those rocks upon which the ocean waves so noisily crash, it has and had many more meanings to men and women who belong to the sea.

Breakers are indeed those reefs, rocks and so on that stop the mighty ocean waves, particularly at shallower points along the shore. Admiral Smyth describes this situation most poetically in The Sailor's Word Book:

... those billows which break violently over reefs, rocks, or shallows, lying immediately at, or under, the surface of the sea. They are distinguished both by their appearance and sound, as they cover that part of the sea with a perpetual foam, and produce loud roaring, very different from what the waves usually have over a deeper bottom. Also, a name given to those rocks which occasion the waves to break over them.

One imagines that, in a heavy sea, the rocks pictured above might become breakers. "Breakers ahead!" This call warns the helm of broken water in a ship's direct course.

A break water may be a natural bar or a man-made jetty or mole that protects a harbor or bay from the more violent roiling of the open ocean, thus keeping the ships there safe from being beaten up by waves and wind.

Breakers is also a term for the small barrels used to store water or other liquids, rum for instance. A crew might break such things out; breaking out meaning to pull up stores or cargo from stowage. Thus breakage was the empty spaces where nothing was stowed in a ship's hold. In ocean marine insurance, however, it is the part of the cargo that arrives damaged. Break bulk means to open and unload the hold of said cargo and can allude to the "disposal" of ill-gotten, perhaps piratical gains.

A sudden end to a deck's planking was called the break-beams. A break was the rise of a deck; the break of the poop was where that half-deck aft ended at its fore-point.

At sea, breaking ground means the beginning of the weighing process; breaking the anchor from the ground beneath the water. A ship may break sheer when she is forced toward her anchor rode, or sheer, by the wind.

A gale is said to break when it slows down and gives way to better weather. But the breaking of a gale can mean the mournful howling of the wind through shrouds and rigging. Those sailors familiar with the East Indies would speak of the "break-up of the monsoon", when winds would rage so violently as to literally break a ship caught off guard apart. A ship may break off her course when the wind is such that the direction intended cannot be maintained. Break off is also an order for a sailor or sailors to move swiftly from one chore to another.

A man is said to break liberty when he does not return to his mess after shore leave. To break a man is to "deprive him of his commission, warrant, or rating by court-martial." To break up a ship is to dismantle her when her parts are worth more to the service than she is. All of these instances may be a very sad time indeed.

And that is all for today, Brethren. Fair winds, following seas and full tankards to y'all!

Header: A Maine Windjammer from Isa Bella's Pics via Naval Architecture

Seafaring Sunday: "A Desperate Fight"

Captain Barry was given command of Lexington, of 14 guns, on 7 December 1775. The Lexington sailed 31 March 1776. On 7 April 1776, off the Capes of Virginia, he fell in with the Edward, tender to the British man-of-war Liverpool, and after a desperate fight of one hour and twenty minutes captured her and brought her into Philadelphia. Barry continued in command of Lexington until 18 October 1776, and captured several private armed vessels during that time.

~ from Naval History and Heritage Command's biography of Commodore John Barry

Header: Commodore John Barry USN by Gilbert Stuart via Wikipedia

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Lee

The word lee is commonly heard in discussing the sea and sea terms. "Have I brought you by the lee," is one of those euphemisms that just about everyone but the dog uses around chez Pauline. But what does it really mean? Let us look closer, shall we?

According to Admiral W.H. Smyth writing in The Sailor's Word Book, the English word lee comes from the Scandinavian loe or laa which roughly translates as the sea. With that in mind, we know that the word always had two feet firmly planted in the water and probably came from our intrepid Viking ancestors. To English speakers, lee has long meant the side of a vessel opposite the side upon which the wind is blowing. Thus leeward versus windward and leewardly meaning a ship unable to keep up with the wind versus weatherly, a ship that is capable in almost any weather.

Larger ships may have a lee anchor; any anchor catted to the leeward side. All ships riding at anchor may refer to their lee anchor if indeed the kedge is to the vessel's lee.

The lee beams are those on her lee side, positioned at right angles to the keel. The lee boards are wooden frames that are attached to the sides of small, flat-bottomed vessels like wings to keep them from drifting to leeward. The lee side of a ship is considered to be the portion of her that lies, as the Admiral describes it, "between the mast and the side farthest from the wind, the other half being the weather-side."

The lee side of the quarterdeck, which is often relatively shielded from the wind, is said to be the prerogative of the captain. It is here aboard the dear Surprise that Patrick O'Brian's Jack Aubrey took his exercise daily on the advise of his physician and particular friend, Stephen Maturin. On men-of-war, the lee side of the quarterdeck was sometimes known colloquially as "the midshipman's parade" since they were often being instructed there by the ship's captain or lieutenants.

A lee tide runs in the same direction of the wind and must be taken into account in navigation as it can push a ship to leeward. Thus the lee gauge refers to being farther from the wind than another vessel, either friend or foe. A ship may take a lee lurch and roll to leeward when struck by a unusual wave on her weather side. The dangerous lee shore is directly on a ship's leeward side with the wind battering her into it.

When a ship is on a lee hitch the helmsman has allowed her to drift to the lee. Being under the lee-gunnel is slang for a ship being troublesomely over taxed by wind, weather, or enemy fire. "Take care of the lee hatch!" This is an order to the helmsman not to get off on a lee hitch.

And then there's that bit about being brought by the lee. A ship is said to be under the lee when she is in water near a weather shore where the wind is coming off the land and the sailing is easier than it might be further out. In the uncomfortable situation known as to lay by the lee or to be brought by or come up on the lee, a ship is run out, brought by the lee quarter and looses the wind in her sails. Thus, when one is brought by the lee, they are speechless, dumbfounded; something a loquacious person like your humble hostess finds very vexing indeed.

Happy Saturday, Brethren. I do apologize for the long absence and hope to have that corrected within the next month. Until than - and in between as well - may your ship be weatherly, and never troubled by being brought by the lee.

Header: The lovely Mouzho on a sunset sail via the wonderful Naval Architecture on tumblr

Meta: Yet More

No kidding, right? Hoppy Easter to all y'all and I do hope to be back sooner than later. Love you... seriously...

Header: "Ahoy me Bunnies" via my friend Jeff Coyle via FB

Meta: A New Adventure on the Horizon

I apologize for skipping my favorite post of the week, Sailor Mouth Saturday, today but I am short on time. I will be embarking on a new adventure starting Monday in the form of a full time, away from home job. I'm thrilled to be so fortunate; the company is an excellent one and they are offering the all-important medical benefits that my family very much needs right now. I cannot gush enough about how lucky I am.

Unfortunately, though, this will impact my ability to spend as much time on Triple P as I have in the past. While I will certainly continue this labor of love, there will be some "down time", at least for a little while. Meanwhile, though, please enjoy the archives. I will return to some form of regular posts, perhaps two or three a week, sooner rather than later. Thank you all for your support, Brethren. And now, let us pack on all sail and put her bow toward that promising horizon...

Header: Captain Kermit Sparrow, apparently, via my good mates at Under the Black Flag on FB