THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
The only danger attaching to a fine achievement is lest the next
may appear insignificant by its side. The dramatist who has created
a splendid climax has little to fear except that his effect may be
utterly spoiled by some anti-climax. Transfer the simile to the region
of wars, and how often all through history do you not notice that part
of the grandeur has been robbed by the number of ex-fighting men who,
no longer needed for the safety of their country, find themselves at a
loose end? There has scarcely been one recorded war that has not shown
the soldier and sailor almost happier in fighting than in surviving.
So it was, then, that after all those years of fighting on sea, after
all those expeditions towards the West Indies and Spain, after the
Armada fights and lesser campaigns had at last brought settled peace to
our land, there was no employment for those numerous crews which had
fought with such zest and daring. And so they turned their minds to
something else, according to their circumstances. “Those that were rich
rested with that they had; those that were poore and had nothing but
from hand to mouth, turned Pirats; some because they became sleighted
of those for whom they had got much wealth; some for that they could
not get their due; some that had lived bravely would not abase
themselves to poverty; some vainly, only to get a name; others for
revenge, covetousness, or as ill; and as they found themselves more and
more oppressed, their passions increasing with discontent, made them
turne Pirats.”
So wrote Captain John Smith in his “Travells and Observations.” “The
men have been long unpaid and need relief,” wrote Hawkyns to Walsyngham
on the last day of July, after they had succeeded in driving the
Spanish Armada out of the English Channel, and his own gallant crew had
fought like true sailormen. “I pray your Lordship that the money that
should have gone to Plymouth may now be sent to Dover.” “The infection
is grown very great in many ships,” wrote Howard, three weeks later to
Elizabeth, “and is now very dangerous; and those that come in fresh are
soonest infected; they sicken one day and die the next.” And so we can
easily understand that after all these privations and disappointments
the ill-treated bands of seamen drifted into piracy as the most
profitable life and profession.
Even during Elizabeth’s time there were, of course, plenty of these
rovers in the English Channel, the most notorious of whom was a man
named Callis, who cruised about off the Welsh coast. For companions he
had a man named Clinton and one whose surname was Pursser. These gained
great notoriety until the Queen had them caught and hanged at Wapping.
And there was a man named Flemming, who was as big a rascal and as much
“wanted” as the others; but inasmuch as he performed a fine deed for
his country and was a patriot more than a pirate, he received not only
his pardon, but a good reward as well. For he was roving about in
the Channel when he discovered the great Spanish Armada sailing up.
Then, heedless of the fact that his own country was anxious to see
him dead, he sailed of his own accord into Plymouth, hastened to the
admiral, and warned him of the momentous sight which his own eyes had
beheld.
[Illustration: AN EARLY SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY FORTIFIED HARBOUR.
By a Contemporary Artist. Showing the galleys moored on one side, and
the ships on the other.]
Afterwards there still remained some few pirates, so that it was
“incredible how many great and rich prizes the little barques of the
West Country daily brought home.” But now, after peace had come and
the men who had fought the Spaniards were not needed, they betook
themselves to help the Moorish pirates of Tunis, Algiers, and the
north coast of Africa, and many became their captains. There they were
joined also by the scum of France and Holland, but very few Spaniards
or Italians came with them. Some were captured off the Irish coast and
hanged at Wapping: others were pardoned by James I. They wandered in
their craft north and east; to the English Channel, Irish Sea, and the
Mediterranean, causing panic everywhere; and this notwithstanding that
they had against them warships sent out by the Pope, the Florentines,
Genoese, Maltese, Dutch, and English. There were seldom more than
half a dozen of these piratical craft together, and yet they would
invade a seaside town, carry off property and persons, attack ships
and confiscate their freights with the greatest impudence. But after
a while factions grew, and “so riotous, quarrellous, treacherous,
blasphemous, and villainous” a community became “so disjoynted,
disordered, debawched, and miserable, that the Turks and Moores
beganne to command them as slaves, and force them to instruct them in
their best skill.” It was after these pirates had committed frightful
atrocities as far north as Baltimore, carried away men, women, and
children into slavery and been a terrible menace to shipping, that
James I’s navy performed the only active service of his reign when it
was sent in 1620 to the Mediterranean. However, though it contained
six royal ships and a dozen merchantmen and was away from October to
the following June, yet it did little good as a punitive expedition.
It was not until 1655 that Blake settled the Tunisian pirates, set
fire to all the nine ships of the enemy, and came out of the harbour
again with but small loss. And though even in this twentieth century
the north coast of Africa still possesses a few pirate ships which have
been known to attack a sailing yacht when becalmed, yet ever since
Admiral Lord Exmouth, in August, 1816, with a small fleet of British
and Dutch warships, exterminated the pirates at Algiers, silenced their
five hundred guns, captured the Dey of Algiers, and released twelve
hundred Christians, this relic of medieval piracy has been practically
non-existent in European waters.
If the sixteenth century forms the climax of English seamanship, it is
the seventeenth century which unfortunately is the anti-climax. Abuses
crept into the Navy, so that by the year 1618 a complete reorganisation
had to be undertaken, and the bribery, embezzlement, and general
corruption had to be stopped so far as was possible. And yet, for all
that, there was still being made important progress both in navigation
and in shipbuilding. John Napier, in the year 1614, provided his
tables of logarithms, which simplified the intricate calculations of
navigators. In 1678 was published “The Complete Ship-Wright,” by Edmund
Bushnell, which I believe to be the earliest treatise on shipbuilding
printed in English. The way the London shipwrights were wont to measure
their ships was as follows: They multiplied the length of the keel
“into the breadth of the ship, at the broadest place, taken from
outside to outside, and the produce of that by the half breadth. This
second product of the multiplication they divide by 94 or sometimes by
100, and according to that division, 60 the quotient thereof, they are
paid for so many Tuns.”
For example, take the case of a ship 60 feet long and 20 feet broad:--
60
20
----
1200
10
-----
100)12000(120 Ans. 120 tons.
But, says this same writer, the true way to measure must be by
measuring the body and bulk of the ship underwater. He also gives some
of the rule of thumb standards to which they worked. For instance, the
mainmast of small ships was three times as long as the breadth of the
ship. Thus the ship just mentioned with a beam of 20 feet would have a
mainmast 60 feet high. The topmast, in like manner, was two-thirds the
length of the lower mast in all cases. The mainyard was two-thirds of
the mainmast plus one-twelfth of the mainmast.
There is an illustration in “The Mariner’s Jewel,” by James Lightbody,
published in London in the year 1695, that shows the method which was
employed in launching a ship at that time. It is demonstrated that the
vessel was allowed to rest her weight on a cradle and then hauled into
the water by means of a crab winch. As there was a paucity of dry docks
in those days it was usual, when any painting of, or repairs to, the
bottom of a ship had to be carried out, to careen the ship. She was
hove down on one side by a strong purchase attached to her masts, the
latter having been properly supported for the occasion to prevent their
breaking under so great a strain. This was in vogue until about the
beginning of the nineteenth century, when the custom of sheathing ships
with copper, and thereby keeping a clean bottom for several years,
superseded careening.
There is many an item in Lightbody’s work which is worth our notice.
He tells us that can buoys were employed in those days “for shewing of
danger,” and stuns’ls were already in use on board ship. They still
used the word “davids” for “davits,” and employed a drabler to lace
below the bonnet of the squaresails. “Drift-sail” was the name still
given to a species of sea-anchor, which was used for riding by in heavy
weather. The “sail” was veered right ahead by sheets, he says, to keep
her head right upon the sea. Old hawsers were made up into fend-offs.
The heavy guns were hauled out by means of a guy from the foremast to
the capstan. A ship’s bottom was graved with a mixture of tallow, soap,
and brimstone, which preserved her caulking and made her fast. There
was a rope called a horse which was made fast to the foremast shrouds
and spritsail sheets to keep the latter clear of the anchor-flukes, for
in those days, as one can see from old prints, the anchor was stowed at
the side of the ship close to the foremast shrouds.
[Illustration: EARLY SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY DUTCH EAST INDIAMEN.
By a Contemporary Artist. On the left of the picture the ship is still
being built. Her hull is being caulked and her decks not yet finished.
On the right a fully rigged ship has been careened so as to allow of
her bottom being painted.]
Monson’s “Naval Tracts” are full of information regarding the seaman’s
life at the beginning of the seventeenth century. He tells us that
there were shipyards in his time at Chatham, Deptford, Woolwich, and
Portsmouth; and that every time a ship returned from sea the Surveyor’s
duty was “to view and examine what defects happen’d in the hull or
masts.” The Grand Pilot was “chosen for his long experience as a pilot
on a coast, especially to carry the King’s great ships through
the King’s channel, from Chatham to the narrow seas: as also for his
knowledge to pass through the channel called the Black Deeps.” As to
the life on shipboard, “first and above all things you are to take care
that all the officers and company of ships do offer their best devotion
unto God twice a day, according to the usual practice and liturgy of
the Church of England.” During a fight, if a ship chanced to receive
damage near her bilge the leak was to be stopped with salt hides, sheet
lead, plugs, “or whatsoever may be fit.” To guard against the worm
eating into the wood, one way was to sheathe the hull with an outer
plank and then burn the upper plank “till it come to be like a very
coal in every place, and after to pitch it.” Ships of 400 tons were
built of 4-inch planking; ships of 300 tons had 3-inch; small ships had
2-inch, “but no less.”
The system of signalling in vogue during the first half of the
seventeenth century was of three kinds. By day topsails were lowered
and raised. By night lights were shown: while the shooting of ordnance
was used both by night and day. At night, too, an admiral showed two
lights on his poop, the vice-admiral and rear-admiral being some
distance astern, and each with one light on the poop. Every morning
and evening the vice- and rear-admirals manœuvred their ships so as to
speak with the admiral and take their instructions, weather permitting,
and then fell back into line again. If an admiral went about on the
other tack at night, he fired a cannon and showed two lights, one above
the other, and the rest of the fleet were to make answer. If he was
forced to bear round, the admiral showed three lights on his poop, and
the other ships replied with the same. If he shortened sail in the
night for foul weather, he showed three lights on the poop one above
the other. If in foul weather the ships of the fleet lost company and
afterwards came in sight of each other, then “if in topsail gale, you
shall strike your foretopsail twice; but if it be not topsail gale,
you shall brail up your foresail and let it fall twice.” There were no
fog-horns in use at this time on ships, but in thick weather they made
a noise with a drum, trumpet, or would ring a bell and sometimes shoot
off a musket. One man was kept continually on watch at the topmast head.
A gunner had to provide himself at sea with powder, shot, fire-pikes,
cartridges, case-shot, crossbar-shot, etc., and a horn for powder,
priming iron, linstocks, gunner’s quadrant, and a dark lantern. The
types of guns now in use consisted--reckoning from the largest to the
smallest--of the cannon royal, cannon, cannon serpentine, bastard
cannon, demi-cannon, cannon petro, culverin, basilisk, demi-culverin,
bastard culverin, saker, minion, falcon, falconet, serpentine, and
rabanet. The cannon royal had a bore of 8½ inches, shot a 66-lb. shot
a distance of 800 paces; whilst the rabanet had a 1-inch bore, shot a
1-lb. shot 120 paces.
A capital ship of the time of James I carried two guns in the gun-room
astern and two in the upper gun-room, which was “commonly used for a
store-room, lodgings, and other employments for a general or captain’s
use, and his followers.” Above these two gun-rooms was the captain’s
cabin, with the open galleries astern and on the sides. Fowlers and the
smaller guns were thrust out from here.
The author of “The Light of Navigation,” published in 1612, remarks
that among other things the “seafaring man or pilot” ought to know how
to reckon tides, “that he may knowe everie where what Moone maketh an
high water in that place, that when he would enter into any Haven or
place, where he can not get in at lowe water, then he may stay till it
be half flood.” He ought to know also the direction of the tide, and
complains that some “upon pride and unwillingnes, because they would
keepe the art and knowledge to themselves,” “will not suffer the common
saylers to see their work.”
[Illustration: “THE PERSPECTIVE APPEARANCE OF A SHIP’S BODY, IN THE
MIDSHIPS DISSECTED.”
This ingenious drawing, which gives the reader a good idea of the
interior of a seventeenth-century ship, is among the Pepysian MSS.
in Magdalene College, Cambridge, and entitled “Mr. Dummer’s Draughts
of the Body of an English Man of War.” Edward Dummer was assistant
shipwright at Chatham. Pepys described him in 1686 as an “ingenious
young man.”]
In the seventeenth century the lieutenant was still not necessarily
a seaman. He was a well-bred gentleman, knowing how to entertain
ambassadors, gentlemen, and distinguished visitors received on board.
He was capable of being sent as a responsible messenger to important
personages, and was, in short, of far more use as a social instrument
than as a naval officer. During the Commonwealth soldiers again
became sea-commanders, and the names of Blake, Monck, and Popham will
instantly leap to the mind. Up till the time of Charles II the sea
service had not always enjoyed the dignity of being deemed a profession
worthy of gentlemen. There were, of course, exceptions; but as a
general rule this was the case. But, thanks to the example of the Duke
of York, afterwards James II, the Navy during the time of his brother
Charles II became fashionable--too fashionable, in fact; for numbers of
gentlemen got themselves promoted to the rank of ship’s captain while
knowing very little indeed about ships and their ways. One has only to
read through some of Mr. Pepys’ remarks to appreciate this unfortunate
condition of affairs.
The reign of James II gave a still greater impetus to the English naval
service. There was an improvement in administration and organisation
generally, thanks partly to the personal inclination of James towards
maritime matters, and partly to the lessons which he and others had
learned during the Anglo-Dutch sea fights. But as to placing naval
education on a sound basis, there was no such thing in England till
the end of the Stuart period, although across the Channel the French
were seeing to it that their sailors obtained not only a thoroughly
practical, but also an adequate theoretical training. The English
midshipman came aboard for his first cruise a complete landsman with
no training. He managed to learn the rudiments of seamanship from the
boatswain, and to get a smattering of elementary navigation; yet it was
anything but a satisfactory training. There was little enough science
in the sailor’s work, and hundreds of ships were wrecked through
lack of proper instruments, until, in the year 1676, the founding of
Greenwich Observatory enabled nautical astronomy to be developed to
the great advantage of ships and men. Thanks to the English overseas
colonies and the Newcastle colliers, to which Boteler refers in
his famous “Dialogues,” published in 1685; to the numbers of other
coasters; and last, but most important of all, to the long protracted
Dutch wars which had taught many a greenhorn how to use the sea, there
was a large and growing body of seamen, many of whose descendants were
to fight under Rodney, Hawke, Jervis, Nelson, and other famous admirals
at a later date.
[Illustration: THE “ORTHOGRAPHICK SIMMETRYE” OF A SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY
SHIP.
Being another of “Mr. Dummer’s Draughts.”]
At the end of the seventeenth century, captains in the Navy were being
paid £1 10s. a month during the time of peace, but during war this was
raised to £3. The idea of a naval uniform originated in France in the
year 1669, but the practice of all grades of naval officers wearing
uniform did not become general until the time of the first Empire.
During the reign of our Charles II, ships of the English Navy carried
as officers, captains, lieutenants, masters, pursers, surgeons, and
chaplains. The seventeenth-century French Navy owed a very considerable
debt to the far-sighted enterprise of Colbert, but _directly_ it owed
a very great deal to the labours of its chaplains, who instructed
the pilots in their work and taught naval aspirants the mysteries of
astronomy and navigation. During the first part of the seventeenth
century the finest shipbuilders had been the Dutch, for, thanks to
their East Indian and other colonies, Holland had every reason for
building big ocean-going ships. No one in Spain, England, or France
could for a time build ships like theirs. And so it was but natural
that the zealous French went to Holland, lived there for some time in
order to learn shipbuilding, translated the best Dutch authorities
on this subject into French, and returned home to build on even more
scientific lines. Therefore in the eighteenth century the French could
build vessels as no one else in the world. It was from the latter, in
turn, that the English at last acquired so much skill that the old
rule-of-thumb methods of ship construction were for ever banished and
the era of scientific shipbuilding entered upon. In such scientific
matters as the improvement of gunnery, the log, the stability and
better under-water design of ships, France led the way for those vast
reforms which were subsequently to follow.
In the whole history of shipbuilding there is no name which stands
out so prominently as Pett. From the time of Henry VIII right down
till that of William and Mary, one or more members of this family were
busy building ships for the State. At the beginning of the seventeenth
century the finest and largest ship which had ever been in the British
Navy was the _Prince Royal_, of 1200 tons. She was designed and built
by Sir Phineas Pett, and her keel was laid down in 1608, and the first
attempt to launch her was made on the 24th of September in 1610. Among
the Harleian manuscripts in the British Museum is a quaint volume of a
hundred and thirteen pages, entitled “The Life of Phineas Pette, who
was borne Nov. 1^{st}, 1570,” and the account continues down to the
year 1638. It is a curious record, in which the most intimate domestic
matters are mixed up with the most interesting facts concerning the
building of ships. For example: “In the beginning of August, I was
summoned to Chatham with my fellow master shipwrites there to take a
survey of the Navy according to the yearly Custom.... The 6th. of this
Month of Aug^t. my wife was delivered of her 5th. son at Woolwich.”
However, this MS. attracts our attention, because it gives us a
most interesting and detailed account of the way ships in England
were launched only twenty-two years after the Armada was fought and
vanquished. There is, I believe, in existence no such satisfactory
a picture of the time-honoured ceremony of sending a ship for the
first time into the water that is to be her abiding support. I will,
therefore, ask the reader to be so good as to accompany me down to
Woolwich a few days before the end of September in that year 1610.
Here, at last, after two years’ worry, work, and anxiety, Pett has
finished his master-work, the biggest craft which even a Pett had ever
fashioned. Even to-day, as then, the shipbuilder feels never so much
anxiety as the day on which the launching of a great ship is to take
place. A hitch--a difficulty in persuading the ship and water to become
acquainted--may spoil the labour of many a month, besides being a
source of great depression to all concerned, from the builder downwards
and upwards.
[Illustration: EARLY SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY DUTCH WEST INDIAMEN.
By a Contemporary Artist. These were the merchant ships which used to
bring back to Holland the rich cargoes from across the Atlantic. Notice
the exquisite carving.]
However, here we are arrived at the Woolwich yard, where the great
_Prince Royal_ is seen towering high above other craft, and the last
touches are being given alike to the ship and to the arrangements, for
Royalty are coming to grace the launching ceremony. There was a great
“standing sett up,” Pett informs us, “in the most convenient place
in the yard for his Majesty, the Queen and the Royal Children, and
places fitted for the Ladies and Council all railed in and boarded.”
All the rooms in Pett’s own lodgings had been “very handsomely
hanged and furnished.” “Nothing was omitted that could be imagined
anyways necessary both for ease and entertainment.” Pett had been round
the dockyard on Sunday, September 23, and then in the evening came a
messenger to him with a letter ordering him to be very careful and have
the hold of the _Prince Royal_ searched lest “some persons disaffected
might have board some holes privilly an’ the ship to sink her after she
should be launched.” Pett, however, was far too wide-awake not to have
foreseen any such possibility.
On Monday morning, then, he and his brother and some of his assistants
had the dock-gates opened. Everything was got ready for the approach
of high tide and the time when the _Prince Royal_ was to be floated.
But matters were not going to be quite satisfactory. It was, of course,
a spring tide, but unfortunately it was blowing very hard from the
south-west, and this kept back the Thames flood so that the water
failed to come up to its expected mark, and the tide was no better than
at neaps. This was a great disappointment, for presently arrived the
King and his retinue. Pett and the Lord Admiral and the chief naval
officers received James as His Majesty landed from his barge, but it
was with a heavy heart. The King was conducted to Mr. Lydiard’s house,
where he dined. The drums and trumpets were placed on the poop and
forecastle of the _Prince Royal_, and the wind instruments assigned
their proper place beside them. But still the tide was behind-hand.
So Pett thought out a device. About the time of high water he had a
great lighter made fast at the stern of the _Prince Royal_ so as to
help to float the latter. But it was of no avail, for the strong wind
“overblew the tide, yett the shipp started, but yet the Dock gates pent
her in so streight that she stuck fast between them by reason the ship
was nothing lifted with the tide as we expected she should, and ye
great lighter by unadvised counsel being cut of(f), the sterne of the
ship settled so hard upon the ground that there was no possibility of
launching that tide.” Furthermore, so many people had gone aboard the
ship that one could hardly turn round. It was a terrible contretemps
that the ship remained unyielding, for here were the distinguished
visitors on board waiting. “The noble Prince himself accompany with
ye Lord Admirall and other great Lords were upon the poope where the
standing great guilt Cupp was ready filled with wine to name ye shipp
so soon as she had been on floate according to ancient Custome and
ceremoneys performed at such time by drinking part of the wine, giving
the ship her name and heaving the standing cup overboard.”
But time and tide wait on no man, prince or shipbuilder. It was no
use to expect a launch that day. “The King’s Maj^{tie},” Pett adds
sorrowfully, “was much grieved to be frustrate of his expectation
comeing on purpose tho very ill at ease to have done me honour, but
God saw it not so good for me, and therefore sent this Cross upon me
both to humble me and make me to know that however we purposed He would
dispose all things as He pleased.” Thus, at five that afternoon, the
King and Queen departed. When the last guest had gone, Pett, pathetic
but plucky, set to work with his assistants “to make way with the sides
of the gates,” and, plenty of help being at hand, got everything ready
before the next flood came up. The Lord Admiral had sat up all night
in a chair in one of the rooms adjoining the yard till the tide “was
come about the ship.” It was a little past full moon--when the tides,
of course, are at their highest--and the weather was most unpropitious.
It rained, it thundered and it lightened for half an hour, during
which Prince Henry returned to the yard and went aboard the _Prince
Royal_ together with the Lord Admiral and Pett. It was now about 2
a.m., or an hour before high water. Another attempt was made to launch
the great ship, and happily this time she sped into the water without
any difficulty or the straining of screws or tackles. As she floated
clear into the channel, the Prince drank from the cup and solemnly
named the ship the _Prince Royal_. Thus, at length, this glorious ship
that was to be so much admired presently with her fine carvings and
decorations, with her elaborate figurehead at the bows representing her
namesake on horseback, kissed the waters of the Thames. Soon, fitted
with three lanterns at the poop and her yards and masts, her fifty-five
guns and her spread of canvas, she would go forth to the open sea, the
proudest ship flying the British ensign. But though this ship contained
many of the improvements which had been made recently in the art of
shipbuilding, yet there had been a scandalous excess of expense, for
the Commissioners discovered that more than double the loads of timber
had been used than had been estimated for.
It is undeniable that the Stuart seamanship was inferior to that of the
Elizabethans. They could not handle their vessels with such dexterity
as the contemporaries of Drake. The sailors who had not become pirates
were not the equals of those who had fought against the Spaniards;
and this for two reasons: firstly, the fisheries had become so bad as
to discourage putting to sea; and, secondly, the voyages of discovery
were now far fewer. As already stated, one of the happy results of the
Anglo-Dutch wars was that they gave experience to inexperienced men.
Often enough, too, as in the fleet that was sent in 1625 to Cadiz,
the ships were leaky, cranky, and fitted with defective gear and the
scantiest supply of victuals. Add to these drawbacks the incapacity of
the officers and the diseases of the men, and you may rightly pity the
lot of the sailor in those times. They were even put ashore at Cadiz
fasting, so that they promptly filled their poor bellies with the wine
of the country and became drunk.
Can you wonder, therefore, that during the Civil War, after there had
been a series of mutinies during the reign of Charles I, the whole of
the Navy, with the exception of one ship, deserted the royal cause as
a protest against the bad food, the irregular pay, and the incapable
officers? After that the victuals were improved, their wages were
paid at a fair scale and with punctuality, and their affairs better
regulated. But not even then were matters entirely satisfactory. As
one reads through the correspondence of this period one can see that
discipline was woefully lacking. Even Blake, keen disciplinarian that
he was, found it necessary to write on the 1st of December, 1652,
to the Admiralty Commissioners to the following effect soon after
the encounter with the Dutch fleet off Dungeness: “I am bound to let
your Honours know in general that there was much baseness of spirit,
not among the merchantmen only, but many of the State’s ships, and
therefore I make it my humble request that your Honours would be
pleased to send down some gentlemen to take an impartial and strict
examination of the deportment of several commanders, that you may know
who are to be confined and who are not.” Captain Thomas Thorowgood--is
not the surname suggestive of the Puritan period?--also wrote to
complain that his crew had actually refused to accept their six months’
pay as being inadequate. “On Saturday night they were singing and
roaring, and I sent my servant to bid the boatswain to be quiet and go
to their cabins; but they told me they would not be under my command,
so I struck one of them, and the rest put out the candle and took
hold of me as though they would have torn me to pieces, so that I am
almost beside myself, not knowing what to do.”
[Illustration: FITTING OUT AN EARLY SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY DUTCH WEST
INDIAN MERCHANTMAN.
By a Contemporary Artist. Observe the elaborate stern gallery.]
When Blake wrote to Cromwell in August, 1655, from on board the
_George_, he complained of various matters. When he had wished to blaze
away at the Spanish fleet there was a little wind “and a great sea,”
so that he could not make use of the lower tier of guns. This arose
from the old mistake of having the gun-ports too near the water’s edge.
Furthermore, “some of the ships had not beverage for above four days,
and the whole not able to make above eight, and that a short allowance;
and no small part both of our beverage and water was stinking.” ...
“Our ships are extreme foul, winter drawing on, our victuals expiring,
all stores failing, and our men falling sick through the badness of
drink and through eating their victuals boiled in salt water for two
months’ space. Even now the coming of the supply is uncertain (we
received not one word from the Commissioners of the Admiralty and Navy
by the last); and, though it come timely, yet if beer come not with
it, we shall be undone that way.” Again he writes from the _George_,
“at sea, off Lagos,” in 1657: “The _Swiftsure_, in which I was, is so
foul and unwieldy through the defects of her sheathing laid on for
the voyage of Jamaica, that I thought it needful to remove into the
_George_.”
The importance of the Anglo-Dutch wars consists, _inter alia_, in the
display of tactics that must now be mentioned, for this, if you please,
represents the period of transition. We dealt some time back with the
lack of tactics of the Elizabethan period, and saw that at least there
was in existence a yearning after the line-ahead formation. The object
of this is, of course, to enable each ship to fire into the enemy her
very utmost, and give her opponent the benefit of a broadside. But
it was not till the seventeenth century that this theory got a real
foothold. Between 1648 and 1652 certain fighting instructions were
issued for the English Navy, and may be summed up as follows: The fleet
was not to engage the enemy if the latter should seem more numerous.
On sighting the enemy, the vice-admiral and rear-admiral respectively
were to form wings with their ships, to come up on either side of the
admiral and to keep close to him. When the admiral gave the signal,
each ship was to engage the hostile ship nearest to him, the admiral
tackling the admiral of the enemy. Care must be taken not to leave any
of their own ships in distress, and commanders of all small craft were
to keep to windward of the fleet and to look out for fire-ships.
There was no instruction enjoining line-ahead as a battle formation,
but it was understood, and when Blake had his first encounter with
Marten Tromp the English ships formed into single-line ahead. So much
for the moment with regard to tactics. What was the strategy displayed
at the commencement of the Anglo-Dutch wars? Consider a moment what
would most probably be that strategy employed by the British Navy
to-day at the beginning of hostilities between ourselves and Germany.
We should assuredly do three things: (1) We should close up the Straits
of Dover and intercept German liners homeward bound. (2) That being so,
the only possible chance of the enemy’s ships reaching their Fatherland
would be to go round the north of Scotland: so we should have a
squadron off the north-east coast of Scotland to thwart that intention.
(3) And, lastly, we should send some of our warships across the North
Sea to blockade German ports.
Now except for a comparatively slight coast erosion and the shifting of
minor shoals, Great Britain in the twentieth century is geographically
the same as in the seventeenth. Instead of a German enemy, imagine
that Holland is the foe; instead of the German liners, substitute
the Dutch Plate ships; instead of the modern steel steam warriors,
substitute sail-propelled warships. Otherwise you have exactly similar
conditions. The strategy is the same: only the century and the type
of ships are different. For what happened? Ayscue with his squadron
remained in the Downs to catch the Dutch Plate ships bound home to
Holland. Blake was sent with sixty or seventy ships to the north-east
of Scotland and captured a hundred of the Dutch fishing fleet, and then
proceeded further north to intercept the Dutch merchantmen between the
Orkneys and Shetlands. He then came in contact with the Dutch fleet and
prepared for war, but a gale sprang up and dispersed Tromp’s ships.
It was only the lack of good charts that made the English sea general
reluctant to cross the North Sea into the shoal-strewn Dutch waters,
though in fact they did cross later and blockade. Thus we may say that
at any rate by the beginning of the first of these Anglo-Dutch wars
there is the surest evidence that naval strategy was appreciated at its
full value, and that it was modern and not medieval strategy.
And now let us pass to the year 1653, after the English fleet had come
in from the English Channel to Stokes Bay for a refit. Important new
orders were now issued which insisted that ships were to endeavour to
keep in line with their chief so as to engage the enemy to the best
advantage. When the windward line had been engaged, the English ships
were to form in line-ahead “upon severest punishment.” Now please
note two points: that this line-ahead tactic was not of foreign but
English origin, and that following this order a general improvement in
tactics followed. The second Dutch war showed the progress which had
been made since the new type of Fighting Instructions had been issued.
Earl Sandwich, the Lord High Admiral, had issued orders just a month
before war was declared, to provide for the formation of line-abreast,
and for forming from that order a line-ahead to port and starboard.
The principle, too, of sailing close-hauled in single-line ahead is
conspicuous after the Commonwealth period. During the first year of the
third Dutch war still further progress was observed by the officers
being instructed as to how they should keep the enemy to leeward and
how to divide the enemy’s fleet if the latter were to windward; and
the regulations once more insisted on the commanders maintaining their
line-ahead and avoiding firing over their own ships. Two distinct
schools of tactics arose: one purely formal, the other allowing room
for personal initiative as occasion suggested. In the end the former
won, and this continued till the end of the eighteenth century.
[Illustration: AN EARLY SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY DUTCH SHIPBUILDING YARD.
After a Contemporary Artist. Painting the hull of an ocean-going
merchantman]
There is among the seventeenth-century MSS. in the British Museum still
to be found a great deal of interesting data which well illustrates
the experiences of ships and men in these times. Notwithstanding the
incompetency of some of the captains who owed their position less to
their ability as seamen than to influence, yet there were others who
had been at sea most of their lives and had had command of merchant
ships for years. Such men as these were of the highest value to their
country during the Anglo-Dutch wars. You will remember that battle
off Portland in 1653, during the first Dutch war. Richard Gibson, who
was purser on board the _Assurance_ at the time, has left behind his
reminiscences of this fight. In the beginning of February the English
fleet was sailing from Dover down Channel with a fair easterly breeze.
“Gen^{rl} Blake and Deane in the _Tryumph_, S^r John Lawson Vice
Adm^{ll} of the Redd in the _Fairfax_, Cap^{tn} Houlding Rear Adm^{ll}
of y^e Redd in the _Ruby_, Gen^{rll} Monck Adm^{ll} of the White in
y^e _Vanguard_, S^r W^m Penn Adm^{ll} of the Blew in the _Speaker_
(now named the _Mary_), and the Whole Fleet about 52 Saile spread
their Colours of Redd White and Blew, and their Flaggs Ensignes and
Pendants (as now) according to their Division of Squadrons, and Sayled
to meet the Dutch Fleet.... Upon our first Sight of the Dutch all the
English had their Starbord tacks aboard; Gen^{rll} Blake Espying the
Dutch Fleet to bare down before the Winde upon him got his Shipp ready,
haled his Main Sayle up the Brailes, and braced his foretopsaile to
the Mast.... The Dutch Fleet in a Boddy bore downe upon the Generalls,
and pressed upon the _Tryumph_ with as many Shipps as could well lay
about her. Upon which S^r W^m Penn Tacked and his Division with their
larboard Tacks (as soon as they could) stood thorow the Dutch fleet
one way: as S^r Jo^n Lawson (with his division) did the other....
Upon which such of the English Friggotts as Sailed well Stered out of
Gunn Shot of the Dutch Fleet to Windward on the larbord side, untill
they had got a head of severall Dutch Shipps of Warr: then set their
Starbord Tacks and stand right with them, and boarded the first Dutch
Shipp they could.”
It seems strange to us in these modern days, when excellent and
reliable charts can be had for a few shillings, to read in the official
dispatch signed by Monck and Blake to Cromwell that they supposed they
would have destroyed the Dutch fleet off the Lowland coast, “but that
it grew dark, and being off of Ostend among the sandes, we durst not
be to bold, especially with the greate ships; soe that it was thought
fitt we should anchor all night, which we accordingly did about 10 of
the clock.” The way these ships manœuvred in battle so as to get to
windward of their enemy was as pretty a sight as a fleet of racing
yachts to-day manœuvring for the same ambition at the starting-line.
At the battle of Lowestoft in June, 1665, at sunrise, the Dutch fleet
“bore up to V(ice) A(dmiral) Minnes, and gave him a broadside, who
received them accordingly, and so,” says a Harleian MS. of that date,
“their whole Fleet passed by ours, firing at every Ship as they went,
and receiving returnes from them, not one of either side being out
of play at their first encounter: immediately upon which his R(oyal)
H(ighness) made his Signe of the Tacking, that we might still keep the
wind of them, which was as happily executed, notwithstanding that the
Ennemy also strove for it.”
Yet again we have proof of the importance which the English Navy
attached to falling into line of battle. The occasion was the four
days’ battle off the North Foreland in June, 1666. When de Ruyter’s
fleet had been sighted to leeward, our “General calld immediately a
Council of Flag officers: which being done, ye signe was put out to
fall into ye ligne of batle ... about 1 of ye clock ye fight began, Sir
G. Askue with ye white squadron leading ye van.” In the official report
of the battle of Solebay (May, 1672), Captain Haddock, in command of
Lord Sandwich’s flagship the _Royal James_, shows that orders during
battle were sent by means of the ship’s boats. “I had sent our Barge
by my Lord’s command ahead to Sir Joseph Jordaine to tack, and with
his division to weather the Dutch that were upon us, and beat down to
Leeward of us, and come to our Assistance. Our Pinnace I sent likewise
astern (both Coxswains living) to command our ships to come to our
Assistance, which never returned.” And there are other instances of
falling into line, as, for instance, at the battle on the 11th of
August, 1673. “His H(ighnes)s Pr. Rupert seeing us come with that
faire wind,” says the Stowe MS., “gave us the Signall to beare into his
wake.” And again in the evidence of the Dutch Rear-Admiral Schey at the
court-martial on Torrington after the battle of Beachy Head: “On the
10^{th}, being Munday morning, y^e Admirall Torrington made a signe for
y^e ranging ourselves in a line, and our fleete being got into a line,
y^e signe for engaging by a bloody flag from y^e Admirall’s foretopmast
head being putt up.”
We spoke just now of the absence of good charts. It was Charles II
who, being himself greatly interested in navigation and finding that
there were no sea charts of the British Isles except such as were
Dutch or copies of the Dutch--and very erroneous at that--gave a man
named Greenville Collins command of a yacht for the purpose of making
a sea survey, “in which service,” says Collins, “I spent seven years’
time.” James II, himself a great admiral, encouraged this work till
its completion, and so good and accurate were the charts that they
were in active use at any rate till the end of the eighteenth century.
As to the lighting of the coast, this was still in a very primitive
condition. The first navigation light in this country was that of the
Roman Pharos at Dover, a day-mark which mariners still see to-day as
they come bound up Channel. In monastic times probably St. Aldhelm’s
(better known as St. Albans) Head showed a light to warn ships from the
land, and it is also thought that there was a light at Flamborough[51]
and in Flintshire. In 1685, Lowestoft, Dungeness, the North and South
Forelands, Orfordness, Flamborough, Portland, Harwich, and the Isle
of Man were all lighted by beacon fires of wood and coal. These coal
fires continued in some of the lighthouses round our coast even till
well into the reign of William IV. But the Argand lamp, which was
invented during the reign of James II, gradually and surely took the
place of the older-fashioned beacon. And if we may, whilst we are
on the subject, anticipate a few years, we may add that though in
William IV’s time lights were more numerous and the system of buoys was
well established, yet lightships were practically non-existent. The
first lightship dates from 1732, when Robert Hamblyn and David Avery
established such a ship at the Nore.
We may pass now to consider the conditions which regulated the work
of Stuart seamen on board one of the ships such as fought against the
Dutch. We have to think of a type of warship that was nothing else than
a slightly developed specimen of the Elizabethan period. The difference
between the Tudor and Stuart ships at their fullest development is
merely that the latter had become much bigger and carried additional
sails and guns and crew. As a broad statement, this sums the matter up
in the fewest words. Had you passed one of the biggest of the Stuart
ships at sea you would have seen a three- and sometimes a four-masted
craft with topsails and t’gallants above her courses. On such a ship
as the _Sovereign of the Seas_, if we are to judge by a perfectly
authentic engraving, royals were also set sometimes. On the mizzen you
would have observed the lateen sail still in existence. What especially
would have struck you would have been not merely the elongated beak,
but the very long bowsprit. The sailors had to creep out along this
spar, keeping themselves, by hanging on to a stay or spreader, from
slipping into the ocean every time the vessel rose or fell to the
motion of the waves. It was a pretty wet job to lay out along there in
a breeze of wind when the beak-head was dipping well down into the sea
every time she pitched and hurling a veritable cascade over them. There
was one squaresail bent to a yard underneath the bowsprit, and this
water-sail had a couple of round holes--one at either side low down
near the foot--the object being to permit the water, which this low
sail scooped up, to escape. The sheets of this sail led aft and came on
board abaft the fore shrouds. In fine weather a bonnet was sometimes
laced to this spritsail. But in these Stuart ships there was also a
square spritsail hoisted on a sprit-topmast. To hoist this sail the
men had, of course, to go right out to the extreme forward end of the
bowsprit. Above this topmast flew the Union Jack.
[Illustration: A SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY FIRST-RATE SHIP.
Embarkation was made by means of the “Entring Port,” which is clearly
shown amidships.]
Had you gone aboard such a vessel you would have found she had three
decks and a forecastle, a quarter-deck, and a “round-house.” The
lowest tier had thirty square-ports for demi-cannon and cannon. There
were thirty ports also on the middle tier for demi-culverin and
culverin. But her upper tier had twenty-six ports for lighter ordnance.
Her forecastle and her half-deck had twelve and fourteen ports
respectively, and there were thirteen or fourteen more ports “within
board for murdering pieces,” as well as a good many holes for firing
muskets out of the cabins. Right forward and right aft respectively she
carried ten pieces of chase-ordnance.
As you paced her spacious decks you would have realised that you were
on board some better finished article than belonged to Elizabethan
days. The workmanship and decoration would have struck you as of a
higher class. From her great ensign flying over the poop to the smaller
Union Jack on the sprit-topmast; from her royal standard, flying at
the main, to her keel, she would have appeared a massive, substantial
creature of wood and able to withstand a good deal of battering even
from the Dutch ordnance. You would have noted, too, the many carved
emblems pertaining to land and sea which decorated her--the angelic
figures holding up devices, the cupids, and “symbols of navigation,”
all done in gold and black. You would have wondered at the elaborate
figurehead representing a royal personage on horseback prancing over
the waves. And finally, when you came round to the stern, you would
have remarked the elaborate allegorical picture of Victory, or some
other suitable subject, and the five great poop-lanterns--one of them
so big that “ten people could stand upright in it”--crowning the whole
thing. Seventy-five feet, you would have been told, as you looked over
the side, she measured from the keel to her lanterns.
The poop-deck ended some distance abaft the mizzen-mast: the
quarter-deck came just as far forward as the mainmast. Below the
quarter-deck was the upper deck, which ran the whole length of the
ship. Next below came the main deck, where the heaviest guns were
kept. The forecastle was really a substantial fortress which rose
from the upper deck, and, by the aid of its guns already mentioned,
could look after itself even when the enemy had boarded the ship
and obtained possession of the rest of the decks. Sometimes a light
topgallant forecastle was erected above the forecastle. Additional to
the guns already mentioned, swivels were also mounted on quarter-deck
and poop, and would be very useful in case one of the enemy’s ships
came alongside for boarding. The cable of such a ship would be about a
hundred fathoms long of 21-inch hemp, her anchors being respectively of
430 lbs., 150 lbs., and 74 lbs. weight. Davis’ quadrant or backstaff
was still used, and the log-line was an appreciable assistance.
[Illustration: SECTION OF A THREE-DECKER.
Showing construction and gun tiers.]
[Illustration: NOCTURNAL.
Employed at sea for finding the hour of the night by the North Star.]
Below you might have found the dull red everywhere a monotonous colour.
But there was a reason: it prevented the human blood spilt in an
engagement from being too conspicuous. So also the gun-carriage was
painted the same hue. All the ports were square except on the upper
and quarter-decks, where the ports were circular, and surrounded with
gilt wreaths. Externally the upper works of the hull above the line of
the upper decks were painted dark blue with gilt decorations. Below
this the ship was painted yellow down to the lower deck ports, with
a broad band of black along the water-line. Her bottom was painted
white, with the anti-fouling composition. Various experiments were
tried for sheathing the ships with lead, but eventually a fixed method
was adopted for about a century, which consisted of hammering numerous
broad-headed nails close together along the ship’s bottom, and then
paying thereon a composition of tallow and resin.
The nocturnal was still used for finding the hour of the night by the
North Star, and the moon-dial for finding the time of high water.
Spherical and plane trigonometry, the use of charts and globes, the
application of Gunter’s scale and Briggs’ logarithms, the use of
Mercator’s chart--these were the subjects which a seventeenth-century
navigator was expected to learn if he were a genuine “tarpaulin,” and
not an ignorant, swaggering land-lubber promoted by influence only.
[Illustration: BUILDING AND LAUNCHING SHIPS IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.
The vessel on the left is in process of being launched into the water.
The ship on the right is still on the stocks.]