Books: A Man For All Seasons

I have made a lot of cyber-friends through this blogging deal, which is an unexpected bonus. One of these is Denis whose wonderful reviews of horror movies good and bad at his site The Horror?! always make my day. Because he’s been a great supporter of Triple P, it didn’t surprise me at all to get a message from him about a Jewish pirate.

Here is the link Denis sent me to ratmmjess’s Live Journal article on the 17th century Renaissance man Samuel Pallache (sometimes spelled Palache). The brief article, the information in which is drawn from Edward Kritzler’s Jewish Pirates of the Caribbean (a book I have yet to read), sparked my curiosity and so it was off to the local bookstore with a man’s name, a picture in my head, and my usual glee at the prospect of researching anything involving pirates/privateers or seafaring.

What I found at Title Wave was a 200 page history and biography by Mercedes Garcia-Arenal and Gerard Wiegers entitled A Man of Three Worlds. The book is brief almost in the extreme but this makes its focus on Pallache all the more engrossing. Especially given the many, many experiences he had within the span of his 66 year life.

Samuel Pallache was born around 1550 in Morocco. Legend insists that he was born in Spain but Garcia-Arenal and Wiegers are nothing if not excellent researches and, much like William C. Davis with the Laffite brothers, they debunk one myth after another about Pallache. The Pallache family was indeed from Spain and had come to the Morocco ahead of the diaspora that was triggered by the Spanish Reconquista.

Pallache’s father was a Rabbi who became a leading figure in the tight-knit Jewish community of Fez. Samuel grew up in a comfortable environment surrounded by loving family. He heard tales of the abandon home in Spain and these clearly struck a cord. He kept the memory of Spain fresh in his mind as he grew to manhood.

Samuel became a merchant specializing in the newly opened trade routes between the Barbary Coast and Europe, particularly Holland. The Dutch, mortal enemies of Spain by the late 16th century, enjoyed thumbing their nose at the Spanish by trading with the corsairs who so frequently took Spanish ships, cargo and humans as slaves. Pallache grew quite comfortable in this business and he learned diplomacy as well. Eventually he decided it was time to go big and expand his business beyond the confines of Morocco and Holland.

Here Pallache did an uncharacteristic thing that would have made him unpopular at best in the Jewish communities of Fez and Amsterdam had they known. He attempted to return his family to Spain, even going so far as to be baptized in the Catholic Church, making himself what was known as a converso – a baptized Jew. He offered himself as spy to the Spanish court and for a brief time in the 1590s he appears to have carried information from the Sultan of Morocco’s enclave to Spain.

When his bid to repatriate backfired – Spain was still not ready to embrace Moors or Jews regardless of how helpful they might be – Pallache turned the other cheek, so to speak. Through his merchant connections, Samuel had gained access to the court of Sultan Zidan Abu Ma’ali and had become a personal favorite of the Sultan. He offered himself as a spy for Morocco and the Sultan readily agreed. In 1608 Zidan also made Samuel his official “agent” to The Hague in Holland and sent Pallache off on a diplomatic trip with a letter of introduction to Prince Maurice of Nassau.

Sultan Zidan had recently managed to put down an extremist rebellion lead by his brother and backed by Spain. Rightly imagining that Spain would continue such malicious attacks, Zidan decided to form a diplomatic alliance against Spain with his partner in trade, Holland. Pallache, who had a home in Amsterdam, would work out the details. He did so without a hitch, and made a close friend in Prince Maurice in the process. By December of 1608 Morocco and Holland had agreed to a signed treaty.

Prince Maurice next backed Samuel’s bid to become a privateer for Morocco. The Prince supplied ships and arms, the Sultan supplied men and a commission and by 1614 Pallache was at sea raiding Spanish shipping with very little resistance. The only glitch in his piratical carrier came when a storm forced him into Plymouth, England with a Spanish prize. The Spanish ambassador cried for Pallache’s arrest as a pirate and King James of England had very little choice but to comply. Samuel was never imprisoned per se (he was kept at the home of a local governor) and, though a trial was mounted, Samuel’s Moroccan commission and the intersession of the Prince of Nassau made it completely unnecessary. James freed Pallache and quipped to the grousing Spanish Ambassador that Spain had no more love for Protestants than it did for Jews.

Pallache set aside piracy after this incident and returned to the heart of the Jewish community in Amsterdam. His wealth had sadly diminished by this time and, though he continued his merchant endeavors, the exciting days of intrigue were behind him. He died on February 4, 1618 and is buried in the Sephardic Jewish cemetery in The Hague.

Garcia-Arenal and Wiegers get up close and personal with the man and his time in A Man of Three Worlds. The book can be dry at points; some of the discussions of political maneuvering and state/church interaction were a little off-putting even for a history nerd like me. Overall, though, the book allows Samuel Pallache to shine through. His dynamism, eccentric zeal and pragmatic, strangely modern outlook could not be lost on any reader. It’s worth a look for students of history, economics, diplomacy, religion and/or, yes, piracy.

Ships: Updates Ahoy!

Wednesday is grocery day at my house (usually) and since it is one of the chores I hate (mostly because it is inestimably tedious in its never ending round of doing the same thing over and over again, rather like splicing rope aboard ship) I like to do it first thing in the morning. That’s why Wednesday posts are always late. And that’s why today I’m throwing out a bunch of updates on ships we’ve talked about before. It’s all good stuff, but it’s also quick and dirty. Oh, my!

Anyway, first off the U.S. Navy (bless her and all who serve) has completed the 2010 Bonhomme Richard survey. Click over to this post at the Naval History Blog for interesting information not only on the survey itself but on the marine archaeologist in charge.

Next is one of Triple P’s favorite pirate ships: Queen Anne’s Revenge. The remains believed to be those of Edward “Blackbeard” Teach’s flagship which sank off the coast of North Carolina circa 1718 are getting a little attention before winter sets in. A dozen of the ship’s eight feet long guns and her 1.800 pound anchors will receive corrosion prevention this month. Aluminum rods will be applied to what an article at Fox News refers to as “…the boat”. I’m not splitting hairs when I correct that term to ship. Anyway, the rods will act as “anodes”, providing a charge of electricity that will not prevent but will slow down the process of corrosion. The article tells us that the “… last full scale excavation and recovery of artifacts” from the ship took place in 2006. Want to follow the progress of not only this project but many others related to the ship believed to be Blackbeard’s? You can “like” Blackbeard’s-Queen Anne’s Revenge on Facebook for ongoing updates. What a fabulous, modern age we live in.

The last ship on today’s list is the mystery merchant vessel found last July at the World Trade Center construction site in New York City. According to this Fox News article, on October 4th experts gave a lecture documenting what has been so far determined about the life and death of this unexpected find. The scientists are calling the 18th century ship a “Hudson river sloop”; she was evidently a two-masted trading vessel of between 60 and 70 feet long. Whether she sank in place or was used as landfill after she became unseaworthy has yet to be determined. That she certainly sailed outside the Atlantic seaboard and probably as far as the Caribbean has been confirmed by the evidence of small, burrowing clams that ate at the ship’s hull and are native to tropical waters.

The ship was found to have an 18th century copper coin embedded in its structure, probably at the time it was built. The coin was issued during the reign of King George II and helps date the ship to between 1730 and 1760 approximately. As an interesting aside, this ancient tradition for keeping ship’s safe continues to this day, and close to home. USS New York, constructed in part from steel beams from the Twin Towers and completed in 2008, carries modern coins in her hull as well.

The plan for the merchant vessel, which is currently soaking in purified water, is yet to be determined. The Lower Manhattan Development Corp., which has oversight of the entire World Trade Center project, has not announced their intentions with regard to the ship. Scientists hope to be able to preserve her through freeze-drying, much as Texas A & M is doing with La Belle. Let us hope that the right decision is made not with concern for current economics, but for history – and the future.

Header: Blackbeard via the North Carolina Office of Archives and History (looks like Edward has been using his whitestrips!)

Tools Of The Trade: In To Shore

The Seaman's Friend: A Treatise on Practical Seamanship by Richard Henry Dana, Jr. (above in 1842) was originally published in 1841. None other than D. H. Lawrence tells us that the author “…achieves greatness” with his seminal work on seafaring. Of course Dana’s name will be familiar to many. He authored the classic Two Years Before the Mast, published in 1840, which documented his time as a foremast Jack aboard a clipper travelling from Boston, around Cape Horn to California and back.

I love Dana’s work for its “… dispassionate statement of plain material facts”, to again quote Lawrence. There’s nothing left out but there is also no emotion added to the mix. This is sailing, matter-of-fact, perilous and rewarding. And it is worth returning to over and over again. So today, a sample: Dana’s advice on landing a ship’s boat through heavy surf. It is hard work but it can be safely done if proper procedures are followed.

As far as possible, avoid each sea [ed note: in this paragraph “sea” refers to breaking waves] by placing the boat where the sea will break ahead or astern of her.

If the sea be very heavy, or if the boat be very small, especially if she has a square stern, bring her bow round to seaward and back her in, rowing ahead against each heavy surf that cannot be avoided sufficiently to allow it to pass the boat.

If it be considered safe to proceed to the shore bow foremost, back the oars against each sea [again, a wave in this case] on its approach so as to stop the boat’s way through the water as far as possible and, if there is a drogue [buoy on a line], or anything in the boat that may be used as one, tow it astern to aid in keeping the boat end-on to the sea, which is the chief object in view.
Bring the principal weights in the boat toward the end that is to seaward, but not to the extreme end.

If a boat worked by sails or oars be running under sail for the land through a heavy sea, her crew should under all circumstances, unless the beach is steep, take down the masts and sails before entering the broken water, and take her to land under oars alone, as above described. If she have sails only, her sails should be much reduced, a half-lowered fore-sail or other small head-sail being sufficient.

If sent for treasure, always have a net or canvas bag to contain the treasure, and a buoy rope to attach to it to recover it in case of accident. [Note here that treasure may mean nothing more than fresh water, but then again…]

History: Pirate Fiction

Here's a piece I wrote for a Very Short Story challenge over at Twitter. Interested in very short stories which are sometimes no more than one tweet (140 characters) and never longer than ten? Look up the hash tag - #vss – and read some amazing very short fiction.

Her hair, freed by the acrid wind, slapped her cheeks like rope. The sting would have been painful if she had time for pain.

But the great gun had belched up hell and another canister needed loading. She plunged the swab into the barrel and the cannon hissed.

Protesting against the cold water on its hot metal skin. Then her mates stepped up with shot and powder. Slow match fizzled.

The roar woke the dead and made the living deaf as across the roiling gray water the canister hit home. Men fell and rigging tore.

The prize would soon surrender. There could be no doubt. Anticipation crackled among the pirates like static among the clouds.

“It’s boarding now!” The bosun cried in the stunning silence without cannon fire. “The last one across I’ll whip meself!”

Her bare feet gripped the gunnels and her free hand gripped the lines. The ship nudged the prize. A cry went up.

“For booty!” shouted a mate and in a moment the pirates hit the deck of the prize, slashing and hacking.

Blood now beneath her feet, and still the reek of smoke that burned her eyes. Soon there would be plunder and rum. Enough.

Header picture via my friend Mike Burleson's wonderful New Wars.

Seafaring Sunday: Enjoying A Beverage

Some expressions for non-alcoholic beverages at sea:

Bombay oyster (or elephant rouser): castor oil in a glass of milk as a laxative
Bug juice: hot cocoa
Cow, cow juice: milk
Goffa: anything not alcoholic
Gunfire: morning tea
Mud, java, jamoke or joe: coffee
Switchel: molasses, vinegar and water as a tonic
Thickers: strong tea or coffee
Tonsil varnish: bad tea or coffee
Water bewitched: watered down tea or coffee

Above, Stephen and Jack are enjoying Officer's Privilege: the good wine brought aboard at an officer's own expense.

Sailor Mouth Saturday: Water

There are a million ways to use the word water when one is aboard ship. Not the least of these simply refer to the color or character of the sea around you. Green water, clear water, blue water, choppy water, calm water, angry water; one could go on forever. The specific uses of the word, though, are quite interesting and are the stuff of more than one post. So let’s begin here and come back to the subject at a later date as well, shall we?

To water a ship is to fill her casks with fresh water for drinking. Finishing this task is called completing her water. In more recent history, when tanker ships used sea water as ballast, the act of filling the ship’s tanks for an unladden voyage was also called watering. In this case she was carrying water-ballast, a particular favorite in ships like colliers which would carry coal on the outgoing voyage, unload and water, then drain their tanks upon arriving in their home port and start the whole process over again.

Waterage is a charge for using boats which ferry men, arms and supplies from land out to ships at anchor. A water-bailiff is a port officer who searches vessels for smuggled or other illegal cargo. In New Orleans during the days of the Laffites’ Baratarian and Galveston empires, the city’s chief customs inspector, and therefore head of the “water-bailiffs”, was a man with the unusual name of Beverly Chew.

A water bark is a ship that carries fresh water either between points of land or out to ships at anchor or even at sea. Traditionally they are small, two-decked vessels with a minimum crew which insured plenty of room for the barrels that held the water. A water battery is a range of cannons set virtually at sea level. To again revisit the Laffites’ strongholds, both Grande Terre and Galveston – which are islands only nominally above the level of the Gulf of Mexico – sported water batteries making them difficult for vessels to close in on.

Water-bewitched is a derogatory term used in the Royal Navy to mean tea or, in particular, grog that is comprised more of water than tea or rum. Another term for such is five water grog. Water borne refers to anything, man, beast or goods, that is transported over water including lakes and rivers.

Animals frequently come into play when speaking about water at sea. A water crow is the sailor’s term for the cormorant known as a shag is Britain. A water dog refers to the halo that forms around clouds or distant large objects when it is raining far away from the person looking at is. A water dog is a bad omen denoting certain stormy weather. Water-fleas are small crustaceans scientifically known as Entomostraca which can do damage to the hull of a wooden ship that is uncoppered.

We’ll end here for today as, looking back on it, that seems like quite a lot of etymology for one word. More on water another time. For now, though, enjoy the beautiful DS painting at the header entitled “Ode to the Sea” and done by my extremely talented friend and fellow lover of corvids, Munin. Click over to his sketch blog to see more of his incomparable work.

Cheers, mates! See you tomorrow for Seafaring Sunday.

Booty: Bare Knuckles

Sailors have always been fond of boxing "with bare knuckles" or, as it was referred to in the 18th and early 19th centuries, “milling”. Picking your champion, laying down your bet and then cheering as the match progressed seems to have been a great stress reliever. Aboard ship, these matches were frequently conducted with the opponents sitting astride a sea chest, sometimes with their legs tied to it. On land, however, the usual roped off ring and feint and dodge tactics of a modern boxing match applied. It was a bloody, bar knuckle sport that could result in severe injury or death. Regardless, men went after it like women go after chocolate.

A surprisingly beautiful description of such a match appears in Patrick O’Brian’s novel The Yellow Admiral. This is the 18th in his 21 book Aubrey/Maturin series. Much of the book is spent by land at the Aubrey familial estate, Woolcombe. Here Barret Bonden, Captain Aubrey’s coxswain, falls out with the neighboring estate’s gamekeeper, “Black Evans” (who, as an aside, is not African but "corpse-white" and quite covered with black hair) and the match is set. Bonden, a former champion of both the Mediterranean Fleet and the Portsmouth squadron, is badly beaten by dirty tactics and suffers a concussion. The match through Doctor Maturin’s eyes is stunningly fresh and lyrical. Today, allow me to share some of it with you:

It was not until the third and above all the fourth and fifth round that Stephen began to see that much more than mere brute strength was involved, very much more. Both men had been hit and hurt; their blood was up; each had taken the other’s measure; and though Bonden moved quicker and had more science, Evan’s blows, above all his body blows, were heavier by far. At one point they stood toe to toe in the middle of the ring, hammering one another with extraordinary rapidity and force, but he perceived that almost all the blows he could follow were diverted by the guard: indeed, in spite of the apparent confusion of arms and fists the whole was not unlike a fencing-match with its almost instant anticipation of attack, recoil, parry and lightning counter-strokes.

He sat there, watching them circle, manoeuvre, come in with a storm of blows, close and strive locked together, or break apart for a fresh attack: he watched them under the clear light of a high, veiled sky, fighting there to the roar of the opposing sides – they might have been in the arena of a small provincial Roman town – and he too was as tense as any as he urged his old friend and shipmate to go in and win, shouting for him in a voice he could barely hear for the huge din on either side.

~ Patrick O’Brian, The Yellow Admiral, Chapter Three, pages 66 – 67

In the end Evans, who is a blackguard to the core, takes advantage of Bonden’s long, sailor-braid coming loose from its tight chignon. He grabs the hair and swings Bonden’s head into one of the boxing ring’s wooden poles. Bonden, bloody and senseless, is carried home to Woolcombe. The feud between Jack Aubrey and Evans’ employer escalates and… well… You should read the book.

Keep your fists up and your feet moving, Brethren. Happy Friday!

Engraving by H. Heath of Tom Molyneaux, the first American heavyweight boxing champion who began as a Virginia slave, fighting British heavyweight champion Tom Cribb at Thistleton Gap, Rutland.