People: The Canadian Pirate

Today's pirate comes to us once again from the pages of Philip Gosse's The Pirate's Who's Who. He seems full of vigor and a lust for life that not all the characters in Gosse's encyclopedic compendium of freebooters' lives share. He is a curious sort, as well, for his birthplace; although there were probably a number of pirates from the country we now call Canada, it seems that very few have left much of a record.

Captain Nelson (Gosse does not state the man's Christian name) was born on the beautiful shores of Prince Edward Island. His father was a veteran of the "American war", which one must assume was the U.S. Revolution against Britain, and was granted "land for his services" which he turned into a successful farm. By the time young Nelson reached manhood, his father was a well-to-do member of his community, sitting on it's Council and acting as Colonel of the local Militia.

The senior Nelson bought his son farmland and acquired for him a position as Captain in the Militia. The younger Nelson married and settled into life as a farmer, at first seemingly pleased to follow in his father's footsteps. At some point, Captain Nelson attempted to add to his family's fortune by becoming a merchant sailor. He bought a schooner, and began transporting "cargoes of potatoes and fruit" to Halifax. This may be where the trouble began. As Gosse puts it:

He seems to have liked these trips in which he combined business with pleasure, for we learn that on these visits to Halifax he "was very wild, and drank and intrigued with the girls in an extravagant manner." Getting into disgrace on Prince Edward Island, and losing his commission [as Captain of the Militia], he went to live near Halifax, and became a lieutenant in the Nova Scotia Fencibles, while his wife remained on the island to look after his estate...

Nelson's wild side was out for good at this point. He met a man named Morrison and "together they bought a pretty little New York battleship, mounting ten guns." Gosse humorously refers to Nelson's new ship as a "dangerous toy" and notes that he and Morrison manned it "with a crew of ninety desperate characters." Thus armed and crewed, they all went "on the account."

Despite his Canadian background, it appears that Nelson used the port of New York as a base. Here he brought a number of captured ships and sold their goods for a profit. His chosen cruising ground was the West Indies where he plundered English and Dutch ships whose crews he treated "with the greatest brutality."

Nelson and Morrison also ventured raids on land. They ransacked and burned two Dutch plantations on St. Kitts, killing everyone who got in their way. They cruised as far south as Brazil, taking a number of ships on their way. After some time at sea, though, Nelson began to long for hearth and home. He returned, surreptitiously one has to imagine, to the family farm on Prince Edward Island where, Gosse says, "no one dared to molest him."

At this point, Nelson had been a-pirating for three years and had amassed a small fortune of 150,000 pounds. It is interesting that Gosse also notes "his Scotch partner, Morrison, being a frugal soul, had in the meantime saved an even larger sum." Both men seem to have been unusually capable of husbanding their earnings when compared to others of their trade.

Unfortunately for both men, their ship was wrecked in a fog off the island of Nelson's birth. Most of the crew, including the wealthy Morrison, were drowned. This seems to have been the event that ended Nelson's piratical career. He returned home but, ether unable or unwilling to live out the rest of his life as a farmer, Nelson brought his family to New York where, Gosse says, "he lived the rest of his life in peaceful happiness with his wife and family."

The unusually happy ending of the tale of Nelson, the Canadian pirate, is rather nice for a change. The only thing that niggles is all that "great brutality" and burning and pillaging. But then, no one ever said piracy was pretty...

Header: A Fight After the Game by Victor Nehlig via American Gallery

Tools of the Trade: A Morning Egg

Preserving food for long sea voyages has been a conundrum for man every since we first started making, well, long sea voyages. One of the most brilliantly simple ways to preserve a very nutritious form of food was invented - or discovered, if you prefer - by French scientist Rene Antoine Ferchault de Reaumur in the 18th century. Cleverly, Reaumur coated eggs with simple varnish and found that they were good for up to two years.

Admiral Smyth discusses the process in The Sailor's Word Book, and it would be folly for me to try to paraphrase:

Reaumur varnished them all over, and thus preserved eggs fresh for two years; then carefully removing the varnish, he found that such eggs were still capable of producing chickens. Some employ, with the same intention, lard or other fatty substances for closing the pores [on the shell], and others simply immerse the egg for an instant in boiling water, by which its albumen is in part coagulated, and the power of exhalation thereby checked. Eggs packed in lime-water suffered to drain, have after three years' absence in the West Indies been found good; this does not destroy vitality.

An egg "found good" after sitting around in the heat and humidity of the Caribbean islands is almost a magical thing. It is interesting to note that Reaumur was born in the thriving port town of La Rochelle on the Bay of Biscay. One wonders if his experiments with the preservation of eggs did not stem, at least in part, from concerns or requests by seafaring relatives. Whatever the case, sailors made Reaumur's methods their own and, particularly on smaller vessels that could not accommodate live animals, that meant a morning egg at least now and again.

Header: Egg by Edward B. Lintott via Old Paint

People: The Face of a Hero

I don't know many people who are involved in the business of history, if such it can be called, that are particularly interested in what the people whose era they are focusing on looked like. I have read many an unfortunately dry history book that treats the people it is allegedly informing us about like faceless automatons. It is an unfortunate problem that, I personally believe, contributes to the overt hatred of history that so many students suffer from.

For writers of historical fiction, artists and true lovers of particular historical figures, what our ancestors looked like is not only necessary to know, it can become an obsession. That's why this brief but wonderfully informative post over at Face 2 Face, the blog of the National Portrait Gallery at the Smithsonian, fascinates the heck out of me.

The tale of Commodore William Bainbridge, one of the first fighting captains in the U.S. Navy, is full of dizzying highs and claustrophobic lows. Bainbridge commanded the schooner Retaliation when she became the first ship lost to an enemy by the U.S. during the Quasi-War with France. He bore the ignominy of having to fly the Algerian flag at the masthead of the frigate George Washington while transporting the Dey of that country. Finally, back on Barbary shores once again, his ship Philadelphia grounded in Tripoli harbor and the Commodore and his men were taken prisoner and enslaved for a brief but no doubt brutal time.

After each incident, Bainbridge was exonerated by the navy board. It is a sure thing, however, that his own conscience was not so easily cleared. Finally, after a stint captaining merchant vessels, Bainbridge was given command of USS Constitution shortly after the start of the War of 1812. Taking her out of Boston, Bainbridge had the good fortune to encounter, engage and capture HMS Java off the coast of Brazil. Those who are familiar with Patrick O'Brian will remember his skillful description of the engagement - which Jack Aubrey witnesses as a passenger aboard Java - in The Fortunes of War.

This brilliant victory turned Bainbridge into a celebrity, something he honestly loved. As noted in the post, Bainbridge wrote to a friend the "the applause of my countrymen has for me greater charms than all the gold that glitters."

All that said, the most striking things about Matthew Brenckle's discussion of the Commodore are - at least for me - the startlingly immediate portrait above and this contemporary description of Bainbridge:

[He] was six feet in height, and had a finely molded and muscular frame, which enabled him to endure any amount of fatigue. His complexion was rather fair, his beard dark and strong, his eyes black, animated, and expressive. His deportment was commanding, his dress always neat; his temperament was ardent and somewhat impetuous, though he could quality it with the greatest courtesy and the most attractive amenity.

Those two put together describe a true American hero who succumbed to pneumonia at the age of 61 calling for his sword in readiness to board the enemy.

Update: for more on portraiture in the U.S. during this era, see this post over at Log Lines regarding the Nation Portrait Gallery's current exhibit "1812: A Nation Emerges."

Header: Commodore William Bainbridge by Rembrandt Peale

Seafaring Sunday: Old Fort Nassau

January 27, 1776: Continental navy forces invade the city of Nassau, New Providence, to retrieve ammunition stored at Old Fort Nassau. Though the Americans are successful in capturing the fort and raising their flag over it, they find nothing but 100 guns. The British had already moved the ammunition and a good deal of black powder to Boston. All the same, the Governor of New Providence was taken hostage; a small but not unincidental blow to British sovereignty in the Caribbean.

Header: Fort Charlotte, Nassau, the Bahamas via The Bahamas website

Sailor Mouth Saturday: From Arm To Zulu

We're changing SMS up today because nothing is worse than a lack of deviation. At least in my opinion. So here, for your consideration, if a curious list from A Mariner's Miscellany by Peter H. Spectre. These are words that may be familiar to any lubber, but their meaning at sea might leave him or her scratching their land-bound head.

Arm: the portion of an anchor between the crown and the flukes.
Bank: a shoal which is full of enough deep water to navigate a ship through.
Caboose: a cook station on the deck of a sailing ship.
Dead head: a spar or log, usually floating on end, which is mostly submerged and therefore a dangerous obstacle to navigation.
Earing: a line used to bend a sail to a spar.
Fox: a group of rope yarns twisted together.
Groin: a breakwater.
Hog: that unfortunate state of a badly constructed vessel where her bow and stern drop down while her wait rises up.
Indian head: a type of New England fishing schooner first seen around 1900.
Jackass: a canvas bag filled with oakum and stuffed into the hawsehole to make it watertight.
Kid: a tub for serving out soups and stews.
Leech: the after side of a fore-and-aft sail or the outer sides of a square sail.
Mole: a man made breakwater, usually constructed of masonry, and used as a landing for ships.
Nose: the stem of a vessel.
Ordinary: naval term for a vessel that is not sailing and laid up in port, but still in commission.
Pea: the point of an anchor's palm.
Quarter: the side section of a vessel from the aftermost chainplate to the stern. Thus "the wind on her quarter." This should not be confused with the quarterdeck, which is the raised deck at the aft of most ships without a poop.
Roach: the curve in the side of a sail.
Sheets: lines used to control the sails.
Throat: the part of a gaff nearest to the mast.
Up: the position of the helm which allows the vessel to fall off the wind.
Vast!: short for avast; an order to stop as in "Vast fighting!"
Whack: a sailors food ration.
Yankee: a jib topsail. Probably so called because of its development by colonial sailors.
Zulu: a lug-rigged fishing boat used on the coast of Scotland.

There; a whole flock of useful words from one SMS courtesy of that expert in all things seafaring, Mr. Spectre.

Header: A Ship in Storm by an unknown artist via my good mates at Under The Black Flag's Facebook page

Booty: Arrr! Go to Sleep!

Over at io9, the good folks who keep up with all things new and unique have said it all with the title of their article: "This pirate-themed bedroom set is the greatest thing ever." Seriously; I hardly need to continue.

From the good folks at Beyond Bedding, the above room set is a buccaneer's dream. Literally. Look at the details; there's not only bedding and window dressing but a laundry hamper for all love. Beyond incredible this set may be, but perhaps the best thing is that the items are remarkably affordable. The comforter, which fits a full/queen size bed, and two Jack Rackham flag inspired pillow shams will run you just over $100.

The only thing better would be to fine 'em aboard a prize!

Header: Pirate bedroom from Beyond Bedding via io9 (thanks to original member of the Brethren and awesome mate Dwight for bringing this to my attention)

Literature: A Wanderer's Song

It's my birthday, so I'm taking it easy today. Rather than speak for myself, I'll let John Masfield tell you how I feel with his beautiful poem, "The Wanderer's Song":

A wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels,
I am tired of brick and stone and rumbling wagon-wheels;
I hunger for the sea's edge, limit of the land,
Where the wild old Atlantic is shouting on the sand.

Oh I'll be going, leaving the noises of the street,
To where a lifting foresail-foot is yanking at the sheet;
To a windy, tossing anchorage where yards and ketches ride,
Oh I'll be going, going, until I meet the tide.

And first I'll hear the sea-wind, the mewing of the gulls,
The clucking, sucking of the sea about the rusty hulls,
The songs at the capstan at the hooker warping out,
And then the heart of me'll know I'm there or thereabout.

Oh I am sick of brick and stone, the heart of me is sick, 
For windy green, unquiet sea, the realm of Moby Dick;
And I'll be going, going, from the roaring of the wheels,
For a wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels.

Header: Cloud Bank Over a Choppy Sea by Carl Larsson c 1882 via Old Paint