Sailor Mouth Saturday: Hatch

In a previous Tools of the Trade post we talked about closed quarters; a crew lying under hatches when their ship is boarded by an enemy to protect men, cargo and, to some degree, ship. But what of those hatches and hatchways; and just what is hatchelling anyway? How glad I am that you asked.


Hatchways, to begin at the beginning, are the openings in a ship’s deck that allow passage of men and goods (sometimes animals as well) up and down between decks. In a ship of frigate size or larger, three hatchways – fore, main and after – can be found on the main deck with others below depending on the design of the ship. Generally speaking the hatchway coverings are made of wood and are called hatches. There are also such things as hatchway nettings. These are sturdy rope nets placed over hatchways to allow for light and ventilation while still obstructing falls of men or objects to decks below. Hatchway nettings were more common in smaller ships – brigs, sloops and so on – in the Great Age of Sail but should not be discounted aboard any ship given the right circumstances.

Hatchway screens are pieces of heavy wool or fear-nought, sometimes purposefully soaked with water, that were put around the hatchways when preparing a ship for a firefight. These would screen the various decks from the black powder magazine, making an unthinkable fire or explosion potential more controllable. In an instance where “battening down the hatches” – such as the aforementioned closed quarters – was necessary, hatch bars would be used sealed most often with chain and padlocks. Hatchway rings were used to lift the hatches off the hatchway. The hatches were not, as is the case in many modern replicas, on hinges but free on all sides. This made them easily removed, despite their weight, by a few men employing the hatchway rings.

Gun brigs and bomb ketches were sometimes fitted with hatches instead of lower decks, forming what was known as a hatch deck. A hatch boat, a small craft that can also rightly be called a pilot boat, might have only one deck besides it hold composed entirely of hatches.

The term to lie under hatches, by the way, generally meant to stow something in the hold. However, it could also mean stowing away or, in the most extreme being gravely ill, in horrible circumstances, or even dead.

Then too, a once forgotten and recently remembered canine can be named Hatch.

Hatchet fashion is a combat term. A cutlass or saber might be used hatchet fashion to hack at an enemy as one might with an ax, rather than thrusting as with a foil or epee.

Finally, hatchelling is the process of preparing hemp for rope making. This is a word not often heard in seafaring today, but it would bring an air of authenticity to historical fiction touching on the nautical, I must say.

Happy Saturday once again, Brethren. May the sea be good to you, and may you may you never lie under hatches, except after a long and fulfilling life.

Header: The Pirates’ Cove by Montague Dawson

Booty: A Hero's Cutlass

Speaking of David Porter, Thomas Cochrane and Jack Aubrey, as we were on Wednesday, I thought it only fitting to introduce you to the kind of cutlass that the former would most probably have carried. Porter’s handsome sword would, sorry to say to the British Brethren, have made the other two pea green with envy.


Pictured above is the now very rare but in its heyday surprisingly ubiquitous “Baltimore pattern” naval cutlass. This sturdy and gorgeous piece of steel was the go to sword for naval officers from 1804 on. The one shown above is in the collection of our mate Mike over at The Pirate’s Lair. According to their website, it was acquired by them from the Drechsler Collection; prior to that it was in the possession of Samuel Kaplin.

The Baltimore cutlass was developed in the fledgling U.S. from designs popular in both Britain and France, but with improvements that proved very worthwhile. One of these was the so called figure eight handle made of metal rather than wood, to better protect the user’s hand. Some grips were of turned wood, usually oak, covered with metal. These would probably have been made custom for well to do officers. Men like Porter, who had known the life of a foremast Jack, would have carried the standard issue weapon, at least early in their careers.

Another improvement was the blade. Earlier cutlasses which had one edge that was “false” while the other was sharp. In the case of the Baltimore pattern, both edges were sharp, making the cutlass twice as deadly. The point of the blade was also “clipped”. This point was sharper and less rounded, making stabbing as with an epee blade more effortless and, again, deadly.

Authentic Baltimore cutlasses are stamped, usually on the hilt, with the initials “US”. As noted over at The Pirate’s Lair, this is an indicator that the sword was indeed issued for military service. Of course, these types of cutlasses are very rare today. Most of those in private collections that are not family heirlooms turned up in or around Baltimore, thus the modern name. Baltimore was a central port for the U.S. up until the Civil War and may very well have been a common place to stage sales of surplus naval equipment from the late 18th century until the mid-19th. This may explain the concentration of surviving cutlasses in this area, but that is pure speculation on my part.

Having only ever fenced with an epee Musketeer-style myself, I would love to get my hands on one of these testosterone-fueled weapons. I can only imagine the satisfying – if gory – hacking that such a hefty, double-edged sword would afford. But, alas, my wallet is far lighter than my ambition. Should any of the Brethren have upwards of $16,000 U.S. to invest, however, Heritage Auctions has a Baltimore pattern cutlass fit for a Commodore available here.

Header: Baltimore pattern cutlass via The Pirate’s Lair website where you can find more pictures and links to more information about these swords

Booty: Duel!

Sometimes piratical things just fall into my lap, which is why Triple P has Friday Booty. What started out as a way to share hilariously random stuff like this has turned into an experiment in the absurd and wonderful connections between our modern world and the freebooters we love. That said, is everyone ready for dueling?

Yesterday the First Mate sent me a YouTube video from a new ad campaign from Captain Morgan Rum. The ads feature Marisa Miller (whose name is curiously trademarked, just as an aside) as the Captain’s First Mate. In this sequence we find her alone on a beach, her ancient galleon at anchor in the harbor behind her, going through a stack of casks that one has to assume are full of Captain Morgan (the rum; not the dude). To her seeming delight, another pirate shows up no doubt after her booty (the rum; not the… oh never mind) and the cutlasses start flying.

While I’m no expert, I did take fencing in college and my instructor – affectionately known to us as “Mr. P” – would have had a good laugh with that one. So much is wrong with it that it’s impossible to pick a place to start. Don’t get me wrong, I get the point; we’re not watching the fencing, are we?

All the same, and by way of comparison, go to this post to see real fencing in a piratical context. Or, just watch this clip from one of the best movies on swordsmanship ever made, Ridley Scott’s The Duellists. Harvey Kitel, who plays the driven Feroud, learned to fence for the movie in a very short time and is clearly a natural. He also illustrates one of Mr. P’s favorite injunctions to his students: “Get your hair out of your face; it’s another weakness your opponent can manipulate.” Are you listening, Marisa Miller ™?

Tools of the Trade: Stick It...

Everyone who hasn't been in a coma for the last seventy odd years is familiar with the image above in some form or another. It just happens that I've chosen the best form possible - Errol Flynn as Captain Blood. There he is, the pirate in all his antiheroic glory. His rapier at the ready and his fist to the shrouds. A moment more and he's swinging across to board the enemy followed by a scruffy crew with flintlocks in hand and knives clutched in their teeth. The games afoot.


Did it really happen that way? No. Whatever "it" might be, it didn't. Rapiers are awful when it comes to close combat aboard a crowded ship and a knife in your teeth is going to spell more trouble for your face than the enemy's gut. So what were the pointy weapons of choice for freebooters down through the ages? Let's dive in and have a close look.


Before we start analyzing the weapons themselves, it should be noted that most pirates probably didn't sign on with a gentleman's knowledge of hand to hand combat. Weapons, up until the 19th century and then only in a limited number of countries, were for the powerful and wealthy. There's a reason why torches and pitchforks were the go to items for angry peasant mobs. They weren't allowed anything else, except rocks. Allowing the plebs arms means the government's authority can be questioned by one of those pesky revolutions and that will never do.


Even men who came from navy ships probably had only a slight advantage in the sword handling department. Officers couldn't risk men carrying swords or dirks for fear of mutiny. A foremast jack was allowed only a sailor's knife, which resembled a modern mat cutter, to be used for slicing rope and sail as needed. Boarding weapons were locked up until combat loomed.


A green hand aboard a pirate or privateer had to rely on a veteran to show him the ropes when it came to swordplay and it must have been a very odd feeling to hoist a weapon at first. Which is why the choice was clear. Get your hands on something that didn't require finesse but could easily mutilate unmercifully.


It is no surprise, then, that the slicing weapon of choice was the cutlass. This compact and deadly sword was the descendant of a Medieval weapon called a curtal axe. The rounded blade, sharpened like a razor, was approximately a yard long and could cut right through a man if enough force was applied. Blades were frequently painted to keep salt spray from causing rust. The brass hand guard kept others from cutting up a man's fingers as he came at them and the shorter blade allowed for a good, hefty swing even in close quarters.


The hanger, a shorter cousin of the cutlass, was also popular with pirates in particular. This weapon got its name - or so I'm told - because it hung from a leather belt. Yeah. We'll go with that.


Yet another form of cutlass was the German dusagge which had a larger, scalloped hand guard for diverting sweat and blood away from the fingers and a nasty, double-edged serrated blade that could do even more damage.




Once a man got the hang of handling steel he might want a second weapon for good measure. Daggers, dirks and stilettos were all popular and could easily be concealed in clothing or boots if the need arose. A main gauche (French for "left hand"), pictured above, would be the penultimate in panache. The thin blade and long cross guard or quillon would be ideal for befuddling an adversary's sword momentarily, giving the bearer time to strike with his cutlass or hanger.

Let's face it, though. Not everyone was ever going to get to the cutlass-and-stiletto stage. No worries. There were weapons for those guys who just wanted to hit somebody hockey style.

A boarding axe, as pictured above, was the usual choice. Measuring between two and three feet long and weighing up to seven pounds, just swinging the thing with a reasonable amount of force could be devastating. The hooked side could bash in a skull and the axe could chop off a limb. Added bonus: a boarding axe could cut rigging with one handy chop, disabling the prize.

It goes without saying that anything can be made into a weapon if the need arises. Loading hooks, marlinespikes, belaying pins, block and tackle could all come to the party if the need arose. Just like there are no atheists in the trenches, there are no picky pirates in a brawl for a prize.

Of course, there are always exceptions to any rule. Blackbeard favored two cutlasses and six flintlocks, which struck fear into the enemy without Mr. Teach raising a hand. Just the opposite, Jean Laffite - while he killed more than one man with a pistol - never carried anything but a colchemarde at his side. The colchemarde was the Louisiana Creole sword cane that consisted of a rapier with a silver or wooden handle concealed within a wooden hilt which could be carried as a cane. Jean's, legend has it, had a ruby from India in the hilt. The perfect accessory for a gentleman privateer.

I think I just made my own point moot with that bit about the rapier. Ah well. I'm only sorry that Errol Flynn never played Laffite.