THE GROWTH OF THE MERCANTILE MARINE
Chaucer, who flourished in the fourteenth century, has left us a
description of a merchant “shipman” of his time. He refers to him as
being a West-countryman living, “for aught I woot,” at Dartmouth, who
wore a gown of coarse cloth extending to the knee, and had a dagger
hanging on a lanyard. The hot summer had tanned his face brown, and
Chaucer describes him as a good fellow, who had drawn many a draught
of wine while the “chapman” (or merchant) was asleep. No man had such
skill in reckoning his tides, streams, dangers; and in his knowledge
of harbours, the state of the moon and pilotage, there was no such man
between Hull and Carthage.
“Hardy he was, and wys to undertake:
With many a tempest hadde his berd been shake.
He knew wel alle the havenes, as they were,
From Gootlond to the cape of Finistere,
And every cryke in Britayne and in Spayne:
His barge y-cleped was the Maudelayne.”
From the mere fact that Chaucer said as much as he did, it is clear
enough that English merchant ships at this time were trading up and
down Europe between Sweden and the Spanish coast, and that as a regular
thing. And some of these seamen were now also navigators. Chaucer, who
died in the year 1400, has left behind a treatise on the astrolabe by
which a mariner could “knowe the altitude of the sonne, or of other
celestial bodies.” An astrolabe was the ancestor of the sextant, an
instrument which had been used by the Arabs for long years before it
was used by the Christian seamen of the Mediterranean or the North.
As far back as the eighth century a learned Rabbi named Messahala had
written a treatise on the astrolabe, and it was chiefly from that
author that Chaucer derived his knowledge on the subject. During the
early Tudor period the cross-staff began to supersede the astrolabe.
The growth of the English Mercantile Marine in the fourteenth century,
and the friction which occurred between these ships and the vessels
belonging to Norway, Prussia, Flanders, Scotland, Spain and Genoa, led
to the assertion by Edward III that his royal progenitors had been
lords of the English sea “on every side,” and in 1344 he had coined a
gold noble whereon he was represented standing in a ship crowned, with
sword and shield, emblematic of his sovereignty of the seas. It was a
statesmanlike attempt on behalf of the commercial ships to make the
sea a peaceful highway, when for so long it had been such a dangerous
thoroughfare. It had its counterpart in the Mediterranean; for the
raids by the Saracens had caused the Pisans to exercise the rights of
commercial and naval supremacy on the west coast of Italy; and in 1138
the Genoese had exercised a similar authority in the Gulf of Lyons.
Similarly Venice had claimed sovereignty over the whole of the Adriatic
in the thirteenth century, though prior to that it had exacted a toll
from vessels passing through that sea.
England, too, had her pilgrim trade to Santiago de Compostela,
thirty-three miles south of Corunna, where the shrine of St. James
caused these travellers to cross the Bay of Biscay to Spain. By the
fifteenth century this transportation of pilgrims had become a regular
trade, and in 1434 Henry VI granted a licence to carry no fewer than
2433 such enthusiasts. Indeed the earliest English sea song is that
which describes the life on board one of these pilgrim ships. The
manuscript is in the Trinity College Library, Cambridge, and it begins
by saying that “men may leve all gamys, that saylen to Seynt Jamys,”
for when these people have joined the ship at Sandwich, Winchelsea,
Bristol or wherever it may be, their hearts soon begin to fail, “for
som ar lyke to cowgh and grone, or hit be full mydnyght.” The cook is
ordered to get food ready, but the pilgrims have “no lust” for eating,
but lie “with they bowlys fast them by” and complaining that their
heads would “cleave in three”—“splitting,” as the modern martyr to
sea-sickness expresses it. Then the carpenter comes along and with his
gear makes small cabins for the unhappy passengers to sleep in. A sack
of straw formed the mattress, and in some cases the pilgrims found they
had to sleep near the pump and bilge-water in the reeking hold. “A man
were as good to be dede, as smell thereof the stynk.” For there are few
odours more objectionable than the bilge-stench of an aged ship, and in
those days, when refuse was thrown into the hold and there was little
idea of sanitation, a pilgrim’s voyage from England to Spain, across
the boisterous Bay, could not have been more pleasant than from Venice
to the Syrian shore.
In this poem just quoted it is interesting to notice, also, the life
on board the merchant ship as regards the mariners. We see the master
at once ordering his “shyp-men” to stand by the mast and handle their
tackle. Then, with the old expression of the sea (still surviving in
sailing merchant vessels to-day), “Ho! Hissa,” they hoist away, whilst
one man reprimands another for standing too close to his neighbour to
allow him room to haul. Then one or two boys go up aloft, out on the
yard, and unfurl the square-sail, while the rest of the crew haul aft
the sheets. The captain then orders the boatswain to stow the ship’s
boat, and next “haul the bowline,” the ship being now on a wind; but
presently “veers the sheet” to allow her to run before the breeze. The
steersman is sent to the helm and told to sail no nearer to the wind,
after which the master calls the steward to bring him a pot of beer,
which is promised “with good chere.” It is now time to haul in the
brails of the yard, and one of the crew is admonished for not hauling;
and then see “howe well owre good shyp sayles.” The steward is told
to get food ready “and tary not so long,” whilst the ship’s pessimist
comes and prophesies a storm or squall. He is promptly told to hold his
“pese” and not to interfere.
“Then commeth oure owner lyke a lorde,
And speketh many a royall worde,
And dresseth hym to the hygh borde
To see all thyng be well.”
Thus, with the demand for shipping to carry cargo and pilgrims across
the open sea, there was every chance given to the Mercantile Marine,
and by the fifteenth century the single-masted ship had begun to be
displaced by the three-master, for the reason that the merchantman
was becoming bigger, and it was necessary to split the sails up for
ease in handling. Thus the big cargo ship now has a small square
foresail on her foremast, a big square mainsail on her mainmast,
and a triangular lateen sail on the mizzen-mast. The mere fact that
the last-mentioned, characteristic, Mediterranean sail was added
to northern ships during the fifteenth century, is evidence of the
influence which the Portuguese and Spanish ships were having on our
distant-voyaging vessels. Sea transportation was becoming the rule, and
no longer the exception; trade overseas was increasing; merchants and
seamen were fast becoming imbued with new ideas seen in strange lands,
and in fact the world was beginning to awake.
The biggest of the ships carried a main topsail, and by this time the
rudder had been shifted from the quarter to aft, as it is to-day.
The hull is in a transition state, still feeling the influence of
the Viking type, but not yet a wholesome creature. The forecastle,
sterncastle and main topmast castle are still there, but they have
become amalgamated with the general design of the hull rather than
being mere additional platforms. There is a contemporary manuscript
which shows such craft under way, at anchor, and even being towed out
of harbour by the ship’s boat against a head wind, past a flaming
beacon which marks a promontory. And even at this time there were such
things as pilots’ guides for the coasts of England and Wales, as well
as sailing directions for the Bay of Biscay.
But we must turn our attention south to watch what was going on in
the Mediterranean. Briefly this is what had happened. Already in the
thirteenth century merchant ships had become more enterprising, for
about the year 1270 Malocello had reached the Canary Isles, and in
1281, Vivaldi had set forth from Genoa to find the East Indies via
the west coast of Africa, but failed. For you must remember that
during the latter part of the twelfth century the compass, crude and
inaccurate, yet of immense utility, had been introduced into Europe
from the East. Then comes into our story that great man Prince Henry
the Navigator, son of the King of Portugal, and nephew of Henry IV of
England. Henry devoted his life to developing the science and art of
navigation, creating an observatory and nautical school at Sagres,
near Cape St. Vincent, and doing all he possibly could to encourage
maritime discovery. The result of this was that the Portuguese became
great sea-travellers, big shipowners and expanded in commerce and
colonies. Henry the Navigator was born in 1394 and died in 1460, and to
his foresight, organisation and enthusiastic intellect can be traced
the rapid and marvellous Portuguese achievements which followed at
sea. Thus in 1442 Madeira and the Azores had been discovered in the
Atlantic, trade with Africa materially increased, especially on the
west coast, and the traffic in black slaves become very profitable.
Then in 1486 the Cape of Good Hope was rounded and the sea route at
last opened to the East Indies, instead of the long and perilous
overland route to the Levant which had been used always up till
now. In 1498 Vasco da Gama sailed from Lisbon to Calicut, and two
years later the Portuguese had landed in Brazil. Thus by the dawn
of the sixteenth century Portugal had reached a wonderful height of
prosperity. The great Eastern trade was in her hands; Ceylon, the Sunda
Islands, Malacca and Ormuz in the Persian Gulf were hers; and all this
pre-eminence had been won by studying the problems of the sea and then
applying that knowledge in ships manned by practical navigators and
sailors.
Portugal had risen up by the twelfth century as a separate kingdom, and
Spain had been passing through a period of complete anarchy, but on
the death of the Spanish Henry IV, Isabel and Ferdinand had ascended
the throne of Castile, and then law and order were restored, the last
Moorish stronghold was captured in 1492, and a few months later the
Genoese sailor Columbus, under the patronage of Ferdinand and Isabella,
was allowed to set forth on his historic voyage which discovered the
West Indies. He returned home, went across the Atlantic again in 1493
and discovered Dominica; then made his third voyage, in which he
discovered the mainland of South America in 1498, and finally, on his
last voyage, explored the southern shore of the Mexican Gulf.
With the discovery of a sea-route both to the East and West Indies,
the whole future of the Mercantile Marine was altered. Instead of
carrying merchandise and pilgrims across Europe, there came the demand
for great ocean-going vessels that could carry home large quantities
of rich produce, that would make the European markets surprised when
they beheld these goods. Thus the Portuguese and Spaniards, like
the Venetians and Genoese, began to amass great wealth from their
merchant ships. Noble caracks were built, more and more men embarked
on a seafaring career, the art of navigation received much more
careful study, and mercantile maritime supremacy passed to the Iberian
peninsula. Thus the work of great shipbuilders and sea-carriers,
discoverers, colonisers and traders had for a time passed into other
hands.
But success in one party always breeds jealousy in another: indeed,
if you examine the causes of all the great wars in history, or look
into the reasons for most private quarrels, you will find usually
that they come under the heading either of commercial jealousy or
religious intolerance. And when, as was the case in the sixteenth
century, you have both these factors united, you have the maximum of
intense feeling. The English seamen, perfectly naturally, began to be
jealous and envious of the lectureships and instruction which were
being given to these southern seamen. At Seville Charles V had founded
a lectureship on navigation in the sixteenth century. In England Henry
VIII founded three guilds, at Deptford-on-Thames, Kingston-on-Hull
and Newcastle-on-Tyne, for the same purpose, and Edward VI selected
Sebastian Cabot to be Grand Pilot of England. Henry VII encouraged
his shipbuilders by giving them a bounty on the tonnage built, and
in Henry VIII’s reign dockyards were established at Woolwich, Erith
and Deptford, in addition to Portsmouth. Books on the sea arts began
to be written in English, so that by the time the full force of the
commercial and religious hatred of the Spanish and Portuguese was
let loose, the English mercantile mariners were something more than
mere coastal seamen. From their fishing they had gradually become
cross-Channel carriers; from this they had risen to the ability to
trade regularly with Spain, with an occasional voyage even to the
Mediterranean; but now they were qualified by their ambition and
their greater knowledge to go wherever the sea existed. And thus we
get Drake going all the way round the world; the many voyages across
the Atlantic to the West Indies; the fights with the Spanish treasure
ships; the capture of the _Madre de Dios_ and _San Felipe_, thus
discovering the long-kept secrets of the sea-route to India. From the
captured caracks and galleons which had been built in the Iberian
peninsula, the English shipwright was able to enlarge his ideas and
to learn how to build real ocean-going craft bigger than most of the
Elizabethan ships. The introduction of cannon had been an additional
reason for making the ship a much stouter, loftier and more formidable
creature. Thus length, and beam, and draught increased; larger crews
and more officers were needed, and as each expedition came home with
strange products, merchant adventurers combined to fit out other
expeditions to inaugurate trade even in such remote spots as had not
yet seen a white man.
And never a ship came home from her voyage without adding some valuable
information in regard to trade or geography or navigation or pilotage.
You have only to read the travels in Hakluyt, Purchase and elsewhere
to see how keen these Elizabethans were not to omit a single piece
of knowledge that would be useful for future voyages. They had been
able, almost suddenly, to realise that, given pluck, determination,
enterprise and endurance, the treasures of the world were theirs. They
could follow the sea for a few long voyages and then return to build
themselves comfortable mansions in Devonshire. And inasmuch as nothing
succeeds like success, every time the crew came home and spread the
wonderful tales of their experiences and showed the valuables they had
managed to obtain, other men were anxious to go forth and do likewise.
Nobles and gentlemen and city magnates invested heavily in these
trading voyages, selected the ablest seamen, and thus, incidentally,
were helping to build up the Mercantile Marine on a grand scale.
Before Hawkins engaged in his trans-Atlantic voyages he was a Plymouth
shipowner accustomed to sail to the ports of Spain and the Canary
Islands with trade. At the Canaries he learns a good deal about the
West Indies, then goes further south to the west coast of Africa,
begins transporting niggers thence to America, returns to England with
plenty of money, and sets every one in the west of England talking and
anxious to have a share in this great new game. His relative, Francis
Drake, owner of a small brigantine in which coastal trading has been
carried on, is fired by Hawkins’ success, and accompanies him on one
of his expeditions. Young Francis has learnt his seamanship in a rough
school, having made friends with a shipmaster trading to the Channel
ports and gone to sea with him, and thus acquired his knowledge, until
finally the shipmaster dies and leaves him the brigantine in his will.
Several years of coastal work had followed, Drake had acquired both
money and reputation, and in the end could not resist selling the
coaster and buying the brigantine _Judith_, fifty tons, and going with
his relative across the Atlantic.
What followed? Every time the English seamen came back with terrible
yarns concerning the treachery of the Portuguese and Spaniards, every
time the stories of the gallant fights were told, every time the
jewels and plate and pearls were seen and handled, the West countrymen
were stirred to their very souls. Religious and commercial jealousy,
racial hatred and the love of adventure, combined with the possibility
of becoming rich—all this created such a fire of enthusiasm that
the English Mercantile Marine was bound to increase in numbers and
aspirations. The moderate ambitions of the Middle Ages had passed away
for ever: the dawn of a new order of things had now already come.