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SHIPS AND WAYS
OF OTHER DAYS
[Illustration: A SHIP OF YESTERDAY
(A Tea-clipper before the Wind)]
SHIPS & WAYS
OF OTHER DAYS
BY
E. KEBLE CHATTERTON
(Author of “Sailing Ships & Their Story”)
WITH ONE HUNDRED AND
THIRTY ILLUSTRATIONS
[Illustration]
LONDON
SIDGWICK & JACKSON, LTD
3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHI, W.C.
1913
_All rights reserved_
[Illustration: SHIPS AND WAYS OF OTHER DAYS
PREFACE]
I desire to acknowledge the courtesy of the Master and Fellows of
Magdalene College, Cambridge, for having permitted me to reproduce the
three illustrations facing pages 212, 228, and 230. These are from MSS.
in the Pepysian Library. The Viking anchor and block tackle are taken
from Mr. Gabriel Gustafson’s _Norges Oldtid_, by permission of Messrs.
Alb. Cammermeyer’s, Forlag, Kristiania. The two illustrations on pages
123 and 132 are here reproduced by the kind permission of Commendatore
Cesare Agosto Levi from his “Navi Venete.” The Viking rowlock and rivet
are taken from Du Chaillu’s “Viking Age,” by the courtesy of Mr. John
Murray. To all of the above I would wish to return thanks.
E. KEBLE CHATTERTON.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS xi
I. INTRODUCTION 1
II. THE BIRTH OF THE NAUTICAL ARTS 10
III. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE MARINE INSTINCT 18
IV. MEDITERRANEAN PROGRESS 29
V. ROME AND THE SEA 56
VI. THE VIKING MARINERS 85
VII. SEAMANSHIP AND NAVIGATION IN THE MIDDLE AGES 114
VIII. THE PERIOD OF COLUMBUS 150
IX. THE EARLY TUDOR PERIOD 169
X. THE ELIZABETHAN AGE 186
XI. THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 221
XII. THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY 249
XIII. THE NINETEENTH CENTURY 274
GLOSSARY 291
INDEX 293
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
A Ship of Yesterday (a tea clipper before the wind)
_To face title-page_
A Seventeenth-Century Dutch Dockyard _Headpiece to Preface_
Spithead in the Early Nineteenth Century 2
Old-fashioned Topsail Schooner 8
“River sailors rather than blue-water seamen” 13
“Mine be a mattress on the poop” 34
Cast of a Relief showing Rowers on a Trireme 38
Vase in the form of a Trireme’s Prow 42
Portions of Early Mediterranean Anchor 44
Shield Signalling 49
Greek Penteconter from an Ancient Vase 51
The Egyptian Corn-Ship _Goddess Isis_ 58
The “Korax” or Boarding Bridge in Action 63
Sketches of Ancient Ships, by Richard Cook, R.A. 64
Ancient Coins illustrating Types of Rams 65
Bronze Figurehead of Roman Ship 66
Sketches of Ancient Ships, by Richard Cook, R.A. 66
Two Coins depicting Naumachiæ 68
A Roman Naumachia 68
Chart to illustrate Cæsar’s crossing the English Channel 71
Hull of Roman Ship found at Westminster 78
Details of Roman Ship found at Westminster 80
Details of Roman Ship found at Westminster 82
Primitive Navigation of the Vikings 89
Details of Viking Ships and Tackle 99
Vikings boarding an Enemy 102
Viking Ship with Awning up 111
Thirteenth-Century Merchant Sailing Ship 123
Fourteenth-Century Portolano of the Mediterranean 124
Prince Henry the Navigator 126
Fifteenth-Century Shipbuilding Yard 132
A Fifteenth-Century Ship 134
The Fleet of Richard I setting forth for the Crusades 139
A Medieval Sea-going Ship 146
Fifteenth-Century Caravel, after a Delineation by Columbus 158
“Ordered the crew ... to lay out an anchor astern” 162
Fifteenth-Century Caravel, after a Delineation by Columbus 164
Three-masted Caravel 166
Sixteenth-Century Caravel at Sea 166
Sixteenth-Century Caravel at Anchor 170
Sixteenth-Century Astrolabe supposed to have been on board a Ship
of the Armada 172
Astrolabe used by the English Sixteenth-Century Navigators 173
Sixteenth-Century Navigator using the Cross-staff 176
Sixteenth-Century Compass Card 177
An Old Nocturnal 178
Sixteenth-Century Four-Masted Ship 186
Elizabethans boarding an Enemy’s Ship 187
Elizabethan Steering-Gear 189
Sixteenth-Century Ship chasing a Galley 190
Waist, Quarter-deck, and Poop of the _Revenge_ 192
Sixteenth-Century Three-masted Ship 192
Riding Bitts on the Gun Deck of the _Revenge_ 195
Plan of Early Seventeenth-Century Ship 197
Sixteenth-Century Warship at Anchor 198
Drake’s _Revenge_ at Sea 201
Sixteenth-Century Mariners learning Navigation 206
Chart of A.D. 1589 211
Ship Designer with his Assistant 212
Chart of the Thames from the First Published Atlas 214
Diagram illustrating the use of the “Geometricall Square” 215
Sixteenth-Century Ship before the wind 216
Early Seventeenth-Century Warship 218
Early Seventeenth-Century Harbour 222
Early Seventeenth-Century Dutch East Indiamen 226
“The Perspective Appearance of a Ship’s Body” 228
“The Orthographick Simmetrye” of a Seventeenth-Century Ship 230
Early Seventeenth-Century Dutch West Indiamen 232
Fitting out a Seventeenth-Century Dutch West Indiaman 236
Seventeenth-Century Dutch Shipbuilding Yard 240
Seventeenth-Century First-Rate Ship 244
Section of a Three-Decker 246
Nocturnal 247
Building and launching Ships in the Eighteenth Century 248
Collier Brig 250
Boxhauling 252
Eighteenth-Century “Bittacle” 253
Interiors of Eighteenth-Century Men-of-War 254
Quarter-deck of an Eighteenth-Century Frigate 255
Collier Brig discharging Cargo 256
Eighteenth-Century Man-of-War 258
Collier Brigs beating up the Swin 259
Model of H.M.S. _Triumph_ 260
“Compelled to let the ship lie almost on her beam ends” 261
An interesting bit of Seamanship 262
An ingenious Sail-Spread 264
Eighteenth-Century Three-Decker 266
Sterns of the _Invincible_ and _Glorioso_ 268
Model of an English Frigate, 1750 270
A 32-gun Frigate ready for Launching 272
Launching a Man-of-War in the year 1805 274
Sheer-Hulk 276
H.M.S. _Prince_ 278
An Early Nineteenth-Century Design for a Man-of-War’s Stern 280
Course, Topsail, and Topgallant Sail of an Early Nineteenth-
Century Ship 281
Stern of H.M.S. _Asia_ 282
A Brig of War’s 12-pounder Carronade 283
A West Indiaman in Course of Construction 284
A Three-Decker on a Wind 285
The Brig _Wolf_ 286
A Frigate under all Sail 287
Man in the Chains heaving the Lead 287
H.M.S. _Cleopatra_ endeavouring to save the Crew of the Brig
_Fisher_ 288
H.M.S. _Hastings_ 289
Model of the _Carmarthenshire_ 290
PLANS
(_At End of Volume_)
I. Body Plan, etc., of Early Nineteenth-Century 74-gun Ship.
II. A Portable Crab Winch of the Early Nineteenth Century.
III. Longitudinal Plan of Early Nineteenth-Century 74-gun Ship.
IV. A 330-ton Merchant Ship of the Early Nineteenth Century.
V. Shrouds of Mainmast on Early Nineteenth-Century Ship.
VI. Design of the Stern of Early Nineteenth-Century 330-ton
Merchant Ship.
VII. Midship section of Early Nineteenth-Century 330-ton Merchant
Ship.
VIII. Longitudinal Plan of Early Nineteenth-Century 330-ton Merchant
Ship.
IX. Plans of Early Nineteenth-Century 74-gun Ship.
X. Iron Clipper Sailing Ship _Lord of the Isles_.
XI. The Wooden Clipper Ship _Schomberg_.
“The sea language is not soon learned, much less understood, being
only proper to him that has served his apprenticeship: besides that,
a boisterous sea and stormy weather will make a man not bred on it so
sick, that it bereaves him of legs and stomach and courage, so much
as to fight with his meat. And in such weather, when he hears the
seamen cry starboard, or port, or to bide alooff, or flat a sheet, or
haul home a cluling, he thinks he hears a barbarous speech, which he
conceives not the meaning of.”
(SIR WILLIAM MONSON’S _Naval Tracts_.)
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
In “Sailing Ships and their Story” I endeavoured to trace the evolution
of the ship from the very earliest times of which we possess any
historical data at all down to the canvas-setting craft of to-day.
In “Fore and Aft” I confined myself exclusively to vessels which
are rigged fore-and-aftwise, and attempted to show the causes and
modifications of that rig which has served coasters, pilots, fishermen,
and yachtsmen for so many generations.
But, now that we have watched so closely the progress of the sailing
ship herself, noting the different stages which exist between the first
dug-out and the present-day full-rigged ship or the superb racing
yacht, we can turn aside to consider chronologically what is perhaps
the most fascinating aspect of all. On the assumption that activity is
for the most part more interesting as a study than repose, that human
activity is the most of all deserving in its ability to attract, and
that from our modern standpoint of knowledge and attainment we are able
to look with sympathetic eyes on the efforts and even the mistakes of
our forefathers on the sea, we shall be afforded in the following pages
a study of singular charm.
For, if you will, we are to consider not why the dug-out became in time
an ocean carrier, but rather how men managed to build, launch, equip,
and fit out different craft in all ages. We shall see the vessels on
the shipyards rising higher and higher as they approach completion,
until the day comes for them to be sent down into the water. We shall
see royalty visiting the yards and the anxious look on the shipwright’s
face lest the launching should prove a failure, lest all his carefully
wrought plans should after months of work prove of naught. We shall
see the ships, at last afloat, having their masts stepped and their
rigging set-up, their inventory completed, and then finally, we shall
watch them for the first time spread sail, bid farewell to the harbour,
and set forth on their long voyages to wage war or to discover, to
open up trade routes or to fight a Crusade. And then, when once they
have cleared from the shelter of the haven we are free to watch not
merely the ship, but the ways of ship and men. We are anxious to note
carefully how they handled these various craft in the centuries of
history; how they steered them, how they furled and set sail, how
these ships behaved in a storm, how they fought the ships of other
nations and pirates, how they made their landfalls with such surprising
accuracy. As, for instance, seeing that the Norsemen had neither
compass nor sextant, by what means were they able in their open ships
to sail across the Atlantic and make America? In short, we shall apply
ourselves to watching the evolution of seamanship, navigation, and
naval strategy down the ages of time.
[Illustration:
Frigate. A 74-Gun Ship. Portsmouth Pilot Cutter
SPITHEAD IN THE EARLY NINETEENTH CENTURY.]
But we shall not stop at that; for we want to obtain an intimate
picture of the life lived on board these many ships. We would, so
to speak, walk their decks, fraternise with the officers and men,
adventure into their cabins, go aloft with them, join their mess,
keep sea and watch in their company in fine sunny days and the
dark stormy nights of winter. We are minded to watch them prepare for
battle, and even accompany them into the fight, noting the activities,
the perils, and the hardships of the seamen, the clever tactics,
the moves and counter-moves, the customs of the sea and of the ship
especially. Over boundless, deep-furrowed oceans not sighting land
for weeks; or in short coasting voyages hurrying from headland to
headland before impending tempest; or pursued by an all-conquering
enemy, we shall follow these ships and men in order to be able to live
their lives again, to realise something of the fears and hopes, the
disappointments, and the glories of the seaman’s career in the past.
I can promise the reader that if he loves ships, if he has a
sympathetic interest in that curious composite creature the seaman--who
throughout history has been compelled to endure the greatest hardships
and deprivations for the benefit of those whose happy fortune it is to
live on shore--he will find in the ensuing pages much that will both
surprise him and entertain him. I have drawn on every possible source
of information in order to present a full and accurate picture, and
wherever possible have given the actual account of an eye-witness.
How much would we not give to-day to be allowed to go on board the
crack ship of the second century, for instance, and see her as she
appeared to an onlooker? Well, Lucian has happily left us in dialogue
form exactly the information that we want about the “monster vessel
of extraordinary dimensions” which had just put in at the Piræus. On
a later page the reader will accompany the visitor up the gangway
and go round the ship, and be able to listen to the conversation
of these eager enthusiasts, just as he would listen attentively to
a party of friends who had just been shown over the latest mammoth
steamship. What the captain said of his ship, his yarns about gales
o’ wind, how great were her dimensions, how much water she drew, what
was the average return to the owner from the ship’s cargo--it is
all here for those who care to read it. A thousand years hence, how
interested the world would be to read the first impressions of one
who had been allowed to see over the _Mauretania_, or _Olympic_, or
their successors! In the same way to-day, how amazingly delightful it
is still to possess an intimate picture of a second-century Egyptian
corn-ship!
We are less concerned with the evolution of design and build of ships
in this present book than with the manner of using these craft. How,
for example, on those Viking ships which were scarcely decked at all,
did the crew manage to eat and sleep? Did the ancients understand the
use of the sounding lead? how did they lay their ships up for the
winter? what was the division of labour on board?--and a thousand
questions of this sort are answered here, for this is just the kind
of information that the reader so often asks for, and so rarely gets,
frequently being disappointed at the gaps left in historical works.
Believing firmly that a knowledge of the working and fighting of the
ships in history is worthy of every consideration, I have for years
been collecting data which have taken shape in the following narrative.
Seamanship, like the biggest sailing craft, cannot have much longer
to live if we are able to read the signs of the times. _Steam_anship
rather than seamanship is what is demanded nowadays; so that before
long the latter will become quite a lost art. It is therefore time that
we should collect and set forth the ways and customs of a fast-dying
race. Seamanship is, of course, a changing quality, but at heart it is
less different than one might at first imagine. I venture to suggest
that if by any wonderful means you could transfer the men of a modern
crack 19-metre racing cutter to the more clumsy type of Charles II’s
_Mary_, she would be handled very little differently from the manner in
which those Caroline seamen were wont to sail her. Similarly, a crew
taken from one of the old clippers of about 1870, and transferred--if
it were possible--to one of the Elizabethan galleons, would very
soon be able to manage her in just the same manner as Drake and his
colleagues. It is largely a matter of sea-bias, of instinct, of a
sympathy and adaptability for the work. And in such vastly different
craft as the Greek and Roman galley, the Spanish carack, the Viking
ship of the north, the bean-shaped craft of medieval England, and so
on down to the ships of the present day, you find--quite regardless
of country or century--men doing the same things under such vastly
different conditions.
The way Cæsar worked his tides crossing the English Channel when about
to invade Britain in 55 B.C., or the way William the Conqueror a
thousand years later wrestled with the same problem but in different
ships--these and like matters cannot but appeal to anyone who is gifted
with imagination and a keen desire for knowledge. And then--perhaps
some will find it the most interesting of all--there comes that
wonderful story of the dawn and rise of the navigational science
which to-day enables our biggest ships to make passages across the
ocean with the regularity of the train, and to make a landfall with
an exactness that is nothing short of marvellous considering that
the last land was left weeks ago. It is a story that is irresistible
in its appeal for our consideration, firstly because of its ultimate
value to the progress of nations, and secondly because no finer
example could be afforded us of the persistency of human endeavour to
overcome very considerable obstacles. It is a little difficult just
at first to place oneself in the position of those navigators of the
early centuries. To-day we are so accustomed to modern navigational
methods, we have been wont so long to rely on them for finding our way
across the sea, that it requires a great effort of the imagination
to conceive of men crossing the Atlantic and other oceans--not to
speak of long coasting voyages--without chart or compass, sextant or
log-line. There are many names in history which very rightly have won
the unstinted applause of humanity irrespective of national boundaries.
These names are held in the highest honour for the wonderful inventions
and benefits which have been brought about. But there are two among
others which, as it seems to me, the world has not yet honoured
in an adequate manner. These two--Pytheas and Prince Henry the
Navigator--are separated by thirteen or fourteen hundred years, but
their inestimable help consisted in making the ocean less a trackless
expanse than a limited space whereon the mariner was not permanently
lost, but could find his position along its surface even though the
land was not sighted for many a day. Think of the indirect results of
this new ability. Think of the subsequent effects on the history of
the world--the establishment of new trade routes consequent on the
discovery of new continents, the impetus to enterprise, the peopling
of new lands, the rise of young nations, the growth of sea-power, the
spread of Christianity, the accumulation of fortunes and the consequent
encouragement given to the arts and sciences. It is indeed a surprising
but unhappy fact that humanity, because normally it has its habitation
on land, forgets how much it owes to the sea for almost everything
that it possesses. Perhaps this statement may be less applicable to
the European continent, but it is in every sense true of all the other
parts of the world.
Among the decisive battles of the world, among the discoveries of new
lands, among the vast trade routes, how many of these do not come under
the category of maritime? And yet in many an able-bodied, vigorous man,
who owes most of his happiness and prosperity to the sea in some way or
another, you find a spirit of antagonism to the sea, a positive hatred
of ships, an utter indifference to the progress of maritime affairs.
Hence, too, consistently following the same principle, the world
always treats the seafaring man of all ranks in the worst possible
manner. It matters not that the sailorman pursues a life of hardship
in all climes and all weathers away from the comforts of the shore
and the enjoyment of his own family. He brings the merchant’s goods
through storm and stress of weather across dangerous tracts of sea,
but he gets the lowest remuneration and the vilest treatment. He goes
off whaling or fishing, perhaps never to come home again, performing
work that brings out the finest qualities of manhood, pluck, daring,
patience, unselfishness, and cool, quick decision at critical moments.
Physically, too, he sacrifices much; but what does he get in return?
And then think also of the men on the warships. But it is no new
grievance.
Throughout history the world has had but scant consideration for the
sons of the sea, whether fighters, adventurers, or freight-carriers.
You have only to read the complaints of seamen in bygone times to
note this. One may indeed wonder sometimes that throughout the world,
and in fact throughout history, men have ever been found knowingly
to undertake the seafaring life with all its hardships and all its
privations. To people whose ideas are shaped only by the possibilities
of loss and gain, who are lacking in imaginative endowment, in romance
and the joy of adventure, it is certainly incredible that any man
should seriously choose the sea as his profession in preference to
a life of comfort and financial success on shore. Indeed, the gulf
between the two temperaments is so great that it were almost useless to
hazard an explanation. The plainest and best answer is to assert that
there are two classes of humanity, neither more nor less. Of these the
one class is born with the sea-sense; the other does not possess that
faculty, never has and never could, no matter what the opportunities
and training that might be available. Therefore the former, in spite of
his lack of experience, is attracted by the sea-life notwithstanding
its essential drawbacks; the latter would not be tempted to that
avocation even by the possibility of capturing Spanish treasure-ships,
or of discovering an unknown island rich with minerals and precious
stones.
From a close study of those records which have been handed down
to us of maritime incidents and affairs, I am convinced that the
seaman-character has always been much the same. It makes but little
difference whether its possessor commanded a Viking ship or a Spanish
galleon. To-day in any foreign port, granted that both parties have a
working knowledge of each other’s language, you will find that there
is a closer bond between shipmen of different nationalities than there
is between, say, a British seaman and a British landsman. For seamen,
so to speak, belong to a nation of their own, which is ruled not by
kings or governments, but by the great forces of nature which have
to be respected emphatically. Therefore the crews of every ship are
fellow-subjects of the same nationality, no matter whether they be
composed of a mingled assemblage of Britishers, Dagoes, “Dutchmen,” and
niggers.
[Illustration: OLD-FASHIONED TOPSAIL SCHOONER.
After E. W. COOKE.]
So, as we proceed with our study, we shall look at the doings of
different ships and sailors with less regard for the land in which they
happened to be born than for that amazing republic which never dies,
which exists regardless of the rise and fall of governments, which for
extent is altogether unrivalled by any nationality that has ever been
seen. We shall look into the characteristics, the customs, and the
manifold activities of this maritime commonwealth, which is so totally
different from any of our land institutions and which has always had
to face and wrestle with problems of a kind so totally different from
those prevailing on shore.
“That art of masts, sail-crowded, fit to break,
Yet stayed to strength, and back-stayed into rake,
The life demanded by that art, the keen,
Eye-puckered, hard-case seamen, silent, lean,
They are grander things than all the art of towns,
Their tests are tempests and the sea that drowns.”