Fighting-ships of the Middle Ages
"With grisly sound off go the great guns
And heartily they crash in all at once,
And from the top down come the great stones;
In goes the grapnel so full of crooks,
Among the ropes run the shearing hooks;
And with the pole-axe presses one the other;
Behind the mast begins one to take cover
And out again, and overboard he driveth
His foe, whose side his spear-head riveth.
He rends the sail with hooks just like a scythe;
He brings the cup, and bids his mate be blithe;
He showers hard peas to make the hatches slippery.
With pots full of lime they rush together;
And thus the live-long day in fight they spend."
Description of a mediæval sea fight, _Legend of Good Women_
(modernized), fifteenth century.
WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR, like Cortez, the discoverer of Mexico at a later
date, dispelled any thoughts of retreat that might have been lurking in
the minds of his followers by destroying the ships which had brought
them over. He had come to stay. Now the Normans, though of the same
blood as the seafaring Vikings, who had sailed and fought their
Dragon-ships to the very ends of the known earth, had been so long
settled in France that they had adopted not only the French language,
but French ideas, which were not, generally speaking, of a nautical
nature.
Among these was the system of feudalism and knight-service. The very
word for knight--_chevalier_ in French--signified a horseman; and the
Norman and other feudal knights of the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth,
and fourteenth centuries looked at war and politics from the point of
view of a cavalier armed cap-à-pie seated in his war-saddle. As for
ships and sailors, they were merely unpleasant means to necessary
ends.[4] But if one wanted to go to fight and plunder and raid across
Channel he had to submit himself and his followers to the cramped
accommodation of a vessel of some kind, and to the care of the rough
shipmaster and his crew--low but necessary persons, in the eyes of the
mediæval knight, just as were the experienced "tarpawlins" in the
estimate of the scented "gentleman-captains" in the days of the
Restoration. So it came about that for some centuries England had no
Royal Navy.
The king and his principal nobles had at times a few galleys or
sailing-vessels of their own--almost, if not entirely, their personal
property--and these they made use of for purposes of transportation or
fighting when required; but during this period the maritime defence of
the realm was carried out--on the whole inefficiently--on the hire
system. The money for this purpose was forthcoming, since William
revived a tax for defence purposes, called the "Heregeld", which had
been not long before abolished by Edward the Confessor, on the pretext
that by it "the people were manifoldly distressed". Had he not listened
to the "little navyites" of his day, perhaps the Norman Invasion would
not have succeeded. In addition to this, William placed the five
principal ports commanding the narrowest part of the Channel on a
special footing, under which, in return for certain privileges, they
were to supply him or his successors with a fleet of fifty-two ships in
cases of emergency. They could only be retained for fifteen days,
however. These ports--Hastings, Romney, Hythe, Dover, and Sandwich--were
then, and for ever afterwards known as the "Cinque Ports", though Dover
is the only one which can still be regarded as a port at all. Rye,
Winchelsea, and Pevensey also became "Cinque Ports" later on.
William's idea with regard to the Cinque Ports was probably not so much
the general defence of the kingdom as the defence of his communications
with Normandy. With their assistance he could be sure of always being
able to move troops either way across Channel as his exigencies
required. Thus, when in 1083 William, who was then in Normandy, heard
rumours of the intention of the Kings of Denmark and Norway and the
Count of Flanders to invade England with a great fleet, he hurried
over-Channel with so great an army that "men wondered how this land
could feed all that force". Without the assistance of the Cinque Ports
he might have had some difficulty in doing this.
Although we really know a great deal about the ships of the Saxon and
Danish periods of our history, we know comparatively little about those
which were built between the Conquest and the accession of Henry VII.
For, while we have had specimens of the actual Viking ships to work
upon, we have for this long period, of over 400 years, little
information beyond that afforded by the seals of maritime towns, the
ships depicted by monkish chroniclers and romancists in their
illuminated manuscripts, and in a few cases old stained-glass windows
and decorative carvings.
Now, to begin with, it is obvious that in each of these cases the artist
was cramped for space. He had to decide between the calls of accuracy
and of decorative effect, and almost invariably he gave way to the
latter.
In seals, especially, he was tempted to make the curves of the ship's
hull run parallel to the circumference of the seal. In that which
belonged to the master of the _Sainte Catherine de Cayeux_, which fought
at Sluys in 1340, the exterior curve of the hull of the ship represented
upon it is really concentric with the seal itself. In almost every other
case--up to the fifteenth century at any rate--the hulls of the ships
shown on seals of this description approximate to this shape, and,
generally speaking, are of crescent form, with fighting-stages or
"castles" at the bow and stern. There are a few exceptions, which are
more likely to be correct, as their designers evidently made up their
minds not to be led away from the truth.
In the rather fascinating pictures that appear in mediæval manuscripts,
too, the monkish artists had to work in a small space, in which they
wanted to put a great deal of ornamental and other detail. They probably
knew little or nothing about nautical affairs into the bargain. In the
result their ships present the same crescent-shaped hulls as those in
the seals of the period, and give the impression of being very small
affairs indeed, thanks to the large-sized nobles and men-at-arms with
which they are densely packed.
[Illustration: Seal of Demizel, master of the barque _Sainte Catherine
de Cayeux_, 1340
(From _Histoire de la Marine Française_, by kind permission of the
author, Monsieur C. de la Ronière.)
An example of the impossible ship. Note how the engraver has made the
keel exactly parallel to the circumference of the seal. It makes a
handsome and effective seal, but can hardly be accepted as a picture of
a ship of 1340.]
The reason of this quaint method of representing ships and their crews
or passengers is not far to seek. Who has not seen a child's first
attempts to draw the human face in profile? He outlines the forehead,
the nose, and chin, and puts in the back of the head easily and to his
own satisfaction. Then he pauses and deliberates. The eyes are what he
is puzzling over. He knows that, though everybody has one nose, one
forehead, and one chin, he has _two_ eyes. What about them? He may think
that one eye looks most suitable, but still he doesn't like to leave the
other one out. So, as often as not, he puts in a couple, one about the
right place and the other somewhere towards the back of the head.
[Illustration: Wreck of the White Ship, 1120
Another example of the impossible-ship picture. There were said to be
300 souls on board! Observe the rudder, which proves the date of the
original drawing to be much later than 1120--probably 100 or 150 years.]
The tonsured artist argued very much on the same lines. If he painted a
ship it was not a picture of a special ship. What he wanted to portray
was the saint or hero of his manuscript--very often Alexander the
Great--on a voyage or crossing a river. If he drew him on the same scale
as his vessel he would be a mere dot or blob of paint. He wanted to show
his face, his armour, robes, crown, halo, or what-not. So, though he
could not help knowing that it was inaccurate, he drew him--and,
generally speaking, his companions--on a scale about 500 per cent larger
than that of the ship in which he was depicted as performing a most
cramped and uncomfortable voyage.
We must not therefore accept these brilliantly coloured works of art as
corroborative of the accuracy of the figures of ships appearing on the
seals of Dover, Yarmouth, Poole, and other English and foreign ports,
and in the fifteenth century of various noblemen who held the
appointment of Admiral of England or France. But there are,
nevertheless, a great many useful details to be learned from these
sources of information. From seals we can trace the gradual evolution of
the poop and forecastle from the early platforms or fighting-stages, the
supersession of the steering-oar or "steer-board" by the rudder, the
beginning of cabins, the progress of fighting-tops and action aloft. We
see, too, the mode of wearing banners, streamers, and flags, and gain
some idea of the gradual growth of sail-power, which culminated, we may
say, in the sailing battleship of Trafalgar days.
If we consider the question of mediæval shipbuilding as a whole, we
shall find it difficult to believe that the scientific methods of
construction which distinguished the Viking ships, and the improvements
on them which were made by Alfred the Great, had all been forgotten and
thrown on one side, and that these fine specimens of the shipbuilder's
art had been replaced by anything like the ridiculous little "cocked
hats" that are supposed to represent the shipping of the British and
other Northern nations between 1066 and 1450.
The sea-going ships of these peoples, intended especially for sailing,
would naturally be considerably shorter and broader in the beam than the
Viking class of ship, which relied principally on oars for propulsion,
and was rather too long and narrow to sail well under ordinary
conditions of weather. Moreover, though they carried a single sail, they
were not intended to contend with heavy winter weather.
We have a description of the _Mont-Joie_, in which Louis IX of France
sailed on his last crusade. She was built at Genoa, which then and for
long after shared with Venice the distinction of being the birthplace of
the largest and finest ships in the world. She is worth describing, for
she was one of the precursors of the big Spanish and Genoese carracks
that our fleets encountered off the coasts of France and Flanders from
time to time during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and which
stimulated us to buy or build big ships of our own.
The _Mont-Joie_ was 80 feet long on the keel, but over all, measuring
from the extremity of the forecastle to the highest point of the stern,
she had a length of 120 feet. She is said to have been 26 feet deep
amidships. Twelve feet above the keel was a deck running from right
forward to right aft. Below this was the hold, where lay the ballast,
and in which were stowed water, provisions, and various war materials.
Six feet above the lower deck was another similar deck, which we may
call the upper deck, while above this again a gallery or gangway, six or
seven feet wide, ran along each side of the ship, between the fore and
after castles. The ship's side rose 3-1/2 feet above these fore and aft
bridges and was pierced with loopholes for archery. In action the
bulwarks would be heightened and further protected by shields or
_pavises_.[5] Below the upper deck, aft, was situated the "paradis"
(chambre de parade), or state cabin, which in this case was, of course,
occupied by St. Louis himself.
There was other accommodation provided forward for the rest of the
_Mont-Joie's_ passengers, with the exception of the Queen, who occupied
another "paradis" on the upper deck, immediately over the King's. These
cabins were lighted by ports or scuttles cut in the sides of the ship.
Forward there was further shelter provided under the forecastle, and
both it and the after part of the ship were surmounted by a
_bellatorium_, or fighting-platform, with bulwarks 4 feet in height. The
ship was equipped with two tall masts raking forward and carrying large
lateen sails. At the summit of each was a _gabie_ or fighting-top.
Altogether it will be seen at once that here was a real sea-going ship,
very different from the open boats, manned by giants, of the seals and
manuscripts illustrations.
It is not always easy to convey the impression of size by mere figures,
but if we bear in mind that the famous old _Victory_, now lying in
Portsmouth Harbour, and which many of us have seen at least once, is
only about twice the length of those thirteenth-century ships, we shall
be able to form some idea of their not unimportant dimensions.
Many of the mediæval ships were most gorgeously painted and decorated.
When the French king Charles VI fitted out a great naval armament at
Sluys, in 1386, for the invasion of England--which did not come off, by
the way--Froissart tells us that "gold and silver were no more spared
than though it had rained out of the clouds or been scooped out of the
sea". One young noble covered his mast with gold-leaf. "They made
banners, pennons, and standards of silk, so goodly that it was marvel to
behold them; also they painted the masts of their ships from the one end
to the other, glittering with gold and devices and arms: and specially
it was shewed me", says old Froissart, "that the Lord Guy de la
Tremouille garnished his ship richly; the paintings that were made cost
more than ten thousand francs. Whatsoever any lord could devise for
their pleasure was made on the ships: and the poor people of the realm
paid for all; for the taxes were so great, to furnish this voyage, that
they which were most rich sorrowed for it, and the poor fled for it."
Our own Henry V had rather "loud" tastes in his ship decoration. In the
year 1400 he had a ship painted red, decorated with collars and garters
of gold surrounding fleur-de-lis and leopards, as well as gilded leashes
looped round white greyhounds with golden collars. All these were
selections from the royal badges. Her mast was red also. The _Good Pace
of the Tower_[6] was red too, but her upper works and stern were of a
different colour, and she carried a gilded eagle with a crown in its
mouth on her bowsprit.
The _Trinity of the Tower_ was another red ship, elaborately adorned
with coats of arms, while the _Nicholas of the Tower_ was black,
"powdered" with "Prince of Wales's Feathers", with quills and scrolls in
gold. The King's own particular ship, the "cog" _John_, carried the
royal crest, "the Lion standing on the Crown", at her masthead, besides
other decorations. The Genoese in 1242 painted their war-ships white,
spotted all over with red crosses, so Henry perhaps only followed the
fashion after all; but, generally speaking, red was the favourite
colour, though black at times ran it pretty close in favour as
groundwork for various patterns of ornamentation.
But the continually growing decoration in the way of flags, standards,
pennons, and streamers must by no means be overlooked. They were,
perhaps, the most striking characteristic of the mediæval war-ship.
The standard or pennon of the owner or commander of the ship--and it
must be remembered that he was in those days not a seaman, but always a
soldier--was planted at the foremost corner of the poop or after-castle,
on the starboard side. A ship called after a saint would have, in
addition, the banner of that saint, and in the case of the Cinque Ports
we may be sure that their arms, "three lions with half a galley in place
of tail and hind legs", were displayed on some portion of the vessel. In
royal ships there were other banners with the various royal badges, and
there were hosts of streamers, pendants, and guidons as well. When fully
"dressed", with all her flags flying, the mediæval war-ship must have
made a brave display. Galleys, in addition, had a small staff with a
pendant attached to the loom of every oar on such occasions.
[Illustration: Fifteenth-century Ship
(_From a painting by Carpaccio_)
Observe the capacious hull, the heavy mast, the way the sail is made
fast in the middle as well as by the sheets at the corners, the crane
for hoisting missiles to the top, and the darts ranged round it; also
the way the main-yard is spliced in the middle.]
Nor must we overlook the ornamental nature of the sails in the times of
which we are writing. It was no uncommon thing for the whole of the big
square mainsail of a "cog" to be decorated with the arms of her owner.
This is clearly shown in the well-known manuscript _Life of the Earl of
Warwick_, by John Rous. Generally sails, often themselves of the
richest colouring and material, were adorned with badges or devices, but
sometimes merely with stripes of different colours. Colour ran riot in
the war-vessels of our mediæval ancestors--how different from the sombre
grey war-paint of our modern Leviathans!
[Illustration: Ship of the latter half of the Fifteenth Century (_From
an illuminated MS. of 1480_)
Note the diminutive figure-head, the two shields amidships--probably
placed there for decorative purposes, as the ship appears to be
"dressed" with many pennons and streamers. The smallness of the tops is
unusual, also the square port-hole and the double-gabled cabin.]
The end of the fifteenth century saw the development of the carrack into
the caravel, such a ship as the _Sancta Maria_, in which Columbus sailed
to the West Indies in 1492. As her original plans were found in the
dockyard at Cadiz, and a replica of the famous original was built from
them by Spanish workmen in the arsenal of Carracas in 1892 for the
Chicago Exhibition, which took place in the following year, we know
exactly what she was like. She was just over 60 feet long on her keel,
and had a length over all of 93 feet, with a beam of nearly 6 feet. She
had a displacement of 233 tons when fully laden and equipped. She had
three masts, but only the mainmast had a top-sail. The mizzen carried a
lateen sail. She was considerably smaller than many ships of her day,
but in general appearance and rig she approximated to the smaller ships
of the Elizabethan epoch, and she and her class may well be considered
as forming a connecting-link between the old single-masted "round ships"
and the square-rigged, many-gunned line-of-battleship, which from the
time of Henry VIII to Queen Victoria formed the mainstay of our battle
fleets. There were, of course, many developments and improvements during
this long period, but the type persisted throughout, just as did that of
the modified Viking ship in mediæval ages.
So much for the ships of the Middle Ages. But before we go on to take
stock of their crews it will be as well to attempt some description of
the way they were fought. Nowadays the ship armed with the heaviest and
longest-ranged guns--if her gunners know their work--seems to be able to
"knock out" a slightly less powerfully gunned opponent before she can
get in any effective reply. The present war has given us many
illustrations of this fact. The _Scharnhorst_--a crack gunnery
ship--with her heavier broadside, was able to sink the _Good Hope_ with
little or no damage to herself, and in her turn she was simply
demolished by the heavy guns of the _Inflexible_ and the _Invincible_
off the Falkland Islands.
But in the Middle Ages there was nothing like this. All decisive
fighting was practically hand to hand and man to man, except for the use
of the ram by galleys and the exchange of arrows and stones at
comparatively close quarters. But victory was only achieved, as a
general rule, when the enemy's ship was boarded and her crew defeated
in a bloody tussle, at the end of which no one but the victors remained
alive, unless, perhaps, some knight or noble who was worth preserving
for the value of his ransom. The military portion of the crew, the
archers, men-at-arms, and their knightly leaders, carried the usual arms
of their day. The seamen, who were in the minority, probably used
knives, short swords, and spears, and made themselves very useful in
hurling big stones, heavy javelins called "viretons", unslaked lime, and
other disagreeable missiles from the "top-castles" at the head of the
mast or masts.
We have already mentioned the fore and after fighting-stages, or, as
they later on became, poops and forecastles, that were erected when a
ship was going on the war-path. We may note, in passing, that in the
earlier part of the period we are dealing with, these were so often and
so generally required that "castle-building" afloat became a recognized
trade, until, in the process of evolution, poops and forecastles became
integral parts of the ship.
We may add that, in addition to the fore and after fighting-platforms,
special fighting-towers were not infrequently erected, certainly in the
Mediterranean, and we may therefore assume that they were not altogether
unknown in Northern waters. These towers were generally built up round
the mast, and provided with loopholes and battlements, and sometimes
protected by iron plates or raw hides.
One account of mediæval war-galleys states that in some cases "a castle
was erected of the width of the ship and some twenty feet in length; its
platform being elevated sufficiently to allow of free passage under it
and over the benches". King John introduced the famous Genoese
cross-bowmen--who so signally failed to distinguish themselves at
Crécy--into his navy. The reason most probably was that a cross-bow
could be fired through a loophole by a man crouching under cover of the
bulwarks or shield-row, whereas a long-bow could not be used in this
way. Nevertheless the cross-bow did not succeed in ousting the long-bow
in the British Navy, since, in 1456, in the course of a public
disputation between the heralds of England and France as to the claim of
the former country to the domination of the sea, the French herald
claimed for his countrymen that they were more formidable afloat because
they used the cross-bow. "Our arbalistiers", he asserted, "fire under
cover or from the shelter of the fore and after castles; through little
loopholes they strike their opponents without danger of being wounded
themselves. Your English archers, on the other hand, cannot let fly
their arrows except above-board and standing clear of cover; fear and
the motion of the ship is likely to distract their aim." But there does
not seem to have been much "fear" among the English archers, and as
those that were in the habit of serving afloat doubtless had their
"sea-legs", it must have taken a good deal to disconcert their aim,
world-renowned for its deadliness.
Still, as we shall see in a later chapter, the cross-bow was a most
formidable weapon afloat, and the French herald's argument was a sound
one. In the place of artillery the ships of the earlier Middle Ages were
provided with mangonels, trebuchets, espringalds and other mechanical
instruments for hurling heavy projectiles, which, according to some
authorities, were made or imported as the result of the experiences of
Richard I and his crusading companions in the Mediterranean. Personally,
I should say that they had been known long before that time. A
contemporary chronicle of the siege of Paris by the Northmen in 885-7
mentions that, to cover the Danish stormers, "thousands of leaden balls,
scattered like a thick hail in the air, fall upon the city, and powerful
_catapults_ thunder upon the forts which defend the bridge". The
knowledge of the heavy war-machines of the Ancients had never died out.
The catapult was the old Roman onager, and consisted of a long arm or
beam, of which one end was thrust through the middle of a
tightly-twisted bundle of hair-ropes, fibres, or sinews stretched across
a solid frame. At the other end was either a sling or a spoon-shaped
receptacle for the projectile. This end was drawn back by means of
levers and winches against the twist of the bundle of sinews and held by
a catch. On the catch being released, by pulling on a lanyard attached
to a trigger, the long end of the beam was forced violently forward till
it struck against a strongly-supported transverse baulk of timber
arranged for the purpose. When this occurred the huge stone or other
projectile flew on through the air and struck its target with tremendous
force.
The trebuchet and the mangonel were very like the Roman ballista, and
acted much in the same way as the catapult, except that the motive force
was the fall of a heavy counterweight instead of tension. The springald,
or espringald, was a large-sized steel cross-bow, mounted on a pivot,
hurling heavy iron darts, with great force, which had considerable
penetration. In the battle of Zierksee (1304) one of these heavy
"garots", as they were called, struck the _Orgueileuse_ of Bruges with
such violence that it not only pierced the bulwarks of the forecastle,
but took off the arm of one of the trumpeters who were sounding their
silver trumpets, transfixed another, and finally embedded itself in the
after castle.
One of the most formidable missiles hurled by the mangonels and such
machines was the famous Greek fire, knowledge of which had been brought
to Europe from the Crusades. Sometimes it was projected through
"siphons" or tubes, of which no exact knowledge has come down to us. But
it seems to have ignited the moment it came in contact with the air, and
was spouted forth with the violence of water from a fire-hose. It
destroyed everything that came in its way, and was inextinguishable by
water. It could only be smothered by plenty of earth or sand, a material
not generally available at sea. The mangonels threw it in barrels.
"This was the fashion of the Greek Fire," says De Joinville, the
historian of Louis IX's first Crusade. "It came on as broad in front as
a vinegar cask, and the tail of fire that trailed behind it was as big
as a great spear; and it made such a noise as it came, that it sounded
like the thunder of Heaven. It looked like a dragon in the air. Such a
bright light did it cast, that one could see all over the camp as though
it was day, by reason of the great mass of fire and the brilliance of
the light that it shed. Thrice that night they hurled the Greek Fire at
us, and four times shot it from the tourniquet[7] cross-bow. Every time
that our holy King (St. Louis) heard that they were throwing Greek Fire
at us, he draped his sheet round him, and stretched out his hands to our
Lord, and said, weeping: 'Oh! fair Lord God, protect my people!'" Such
was the terror inspired by this fearful mixture, whose chief ingredient
is supposed to have been naphtha. It does not, however, appear to have
been used to any considerable extent in Western Europe.
In the latter half of the period we are dealing with, cannon--big,
little, and middle-sized--quite superseded the mangonel and other
mechanical projectile-throwers. Few large guns were carried, and those
mostly fixed rigidly on timber beds and fired over the ship's
side--hence the term "gunwale", which we still use in boats, a "wale"
meaning a band of timber. Small breech-loading guns were mounted in
considerable numbers in the fore and after castles, some of these,
generally known as "murderers", being mounted inboard in such a way as
to fire at close quarters on any boarding-parties of the enemy who might
succeed in gaining possession of the waist of the ship. Others were
mounted aloft in the tops, just as they were in our own days until the
tops were required for fire-control platforms. But I propose to give the
quaint ancestors of our modern monster cannon and rapid-fire guns a
chapter to themselves later on.
FOOTNOTES:
[4] "No doubt the noblemen of France prefer land to sea warfare, so hard
and so little in accord with nobility ", stated a French Herald in 1456.
[5] Pavises, plural of Pavois. The "Pavois", or "Pavise" as it was
generally termed in English, was a big round-topped shield like a
tombstone. It was set up with a prop on shore or fastened to a ship's
bulwarks, either on going into action or as a decoration. This is why to
this day a French man-of-war when "dressed" with all her colours at a
review, for instance, is said to be "_en grand pavois_".
[6] "Of the Tower": this signifies that she was a royal ship, like
"H.M.S." of to-day.
[7] A strong bow that needed a tourniquet or winch to draw it back.