Every Day Life in the Massachusetts Bay Colony

by George Francis Dow

During the first three months of the year 1762, fifty-three vessels cleared from Salem, bound for foreign ports and the southern colonies; thirty-four were schooners. The largest vessel was the ship Antelope, 150 tons, a prize, registered at Salem in 1761 and owned by Richard Derby. She cleared for Guadaloupe with lumber, fish, train oil, and Fyall wines. There were nineteen clearances for Guadaloupe during those three winter months. Listed with the staples were the following curious items, viz.: 7½ tons prize soap, illegally imported, shipped to Guadaloupe; and 12,000 feet of oars, shipped to St. Christophers. There is a surprising diversity of ownership among these fifty-three vessels. No large shipowner had a considerable interest. Richard Derby of Salem owned three vessels; Robert Hooper of Marblehead, two; Jeremiah Lee of Marblehead, two; Nathaniel Ellery of Gloucester, owned two and the rest were owned by men who cleared only one vessel.

The ships, that plied between English and American ports, at more or less regular intervals during the eighteenth century, not only brought an exchange of merchandise, but also carried passengers. Officials connected with the government—the customs service and the military establishment, with a sprinkling of clergymen and scholars, were crossing on nearly every ship and the New England merchant sailing to London to buy a new stock of goods for his shop and the Englishman who came to the colonies bringing adventures of goods in great variety, all helped to maintain the service. In the year 1737, the Boston newspapers mention by name eighteen persons who had arrived by ship or were about departing. On January 31st, John Banister, late in business with his uncle Samuel Banister, at Marblehead, advertised in the Gazette that he designed speedily to embark for Great Britain and requested a settlement of all accounts. John Jeykill, the collector of the Port of Boston, arrived from London, April 18th, in Captain Shepardson; early in May, Thomas Phillips of Boston, merchant, advertised that he would sell his household furniture by vendue, as he intended speedily for London, and a week later Major Martin and family arrived from Antequa, in the West Indies. He proposed to reside in Boston for a few years. Toward the last of the month, the Lieutenant-Governor of New Hampshire sailed from Portsmouth, bound for England, and about the middle of June, the Rev. Doctor McSparrow and lady arrived in Boston. As late in the year as December 20th, Edmund Quincy, Esq., the agent of the Province at the Court of Great Britain, was sailing for London, in Captain Homans, with several other unnamed gentlemen.

Very little is known at the present time concerning the intimate details of life on board ship in the early times and especially as to the accommodations provided for passengers. On the vessels that brought over emigrants in any number, the living conditions must have been well-nigh intolerable because of crowding many people into limited space and also by reason of a meagre equipment and lack of necessary conveniences. During the period of the German emigration and that from northern Ireland in the mid-eighteenth century, there was frequently a high mortality during the voyage and sometimes, when it was of unusual length, the supply of food and water ran short and there was terrible suffering. Doubtless some attempt was made to separate the sexes and the families but from time to time cases are found in the court records in which depositions or testimony clearly show that living conditions on board ship in the early days were decidedly of a miscellaneous character.

It isn't necessary to delve into the very remote past in order to discover casual social relations between the sexes on board ship. In 1888, I went the length of Cape Breton and while sailing up the Bras d'Or lakes on the steamer that plied regularly during the summer, I came on deck early one morning to see the sun rise and then began an exploration of the boat. On the lower deck I suddenly came upon some twenty or more barefooted and half-clothed men and women lying in a long row, side by side, stretched out on mattresses placed on the deck. They were probably waitresses, cooks, stewards, and the like, but may have been second-class passengers. However that may be, they were unconscious of the presence of any passer-by and slept quietly together like so many puppies.

In the olden time it is known that in the more regular passenger service the main cabin was parted off at night by means of curtains. Small cabins or staterooms were also built and especially on the larger ships. It is impossible to imagine that it could be otherwise, when the official station or wealth of the passenger is considered.

The captain's cabin had its steward and there the food and service were undoubtedly better than that provided forward where all slept in canvas hammocks slung from hooks in the deck timbers overhead, or lay upon pallet beds on the deck. Here they served themselves from the ship's galley. The foul odors below deck and the unsanitary conditions are part of the lore of the sea. "Ship feaver" was well known to all physicians practicing in seaport towns. In those days the cooking was done in an open fireplace. So, too, on shipboard there was provided an open "hearth" made of cast iron and weighing from four to eight hundred pounds. This was fastened to the deck and its "chimney" was screened by a "smoke sail." A smaller "hearth" was in the captain's cabin and supplied all the heat below. It must have been bitterly cold on board ship during a winter crossing. The coals in these "hearths" were a menace to safety and required constant attention.

A communication printed in the Boston News-Letter describes an escape from fire on board one of these English packets. The writer, a good New England puritan, first declares his suspicion that a certain military gentleman, a fellow passenger from Boston, had brought on board a fair lady who was not his wife. The couple occupied a small cabin, partitioned off from the main cabin, which had a curtained window looking into it. There were other curtains about. As the Boston shopkeeper sat near the "hearth," musing over his suspicions, a sudden lurch of the vessel brought a carelessly placed curtain swinging into the coals on the "hearth" and in an instant it was aflame. The shopkeeper shouted "Fire! Fire!" which brought the major's inamorata to her cabin window and an instant later she rushed into the main cabin with a certain necessary receptacle in her hands. One splash and the worst was over. The charred curtain was soon torn from its fastenings and the fire stamped out on the cabin floor.

In 1760, Jacob Bailey, a native of Rowley, Mass., and a graduate of Harvard College, having prepared for the ministry and been licensed to preach, determined to obtain orders in the Church of England and so, through the intervention of friends, took passage from Boston for London in the ship Hind, carrying twenty guns, which sailed in company with six other vessels. Mr. Bailey kept a diary of the voyage and his description of the accommodations which the ship supplied, the life on board, and the men with whom he was brought in contact, is a surprisingly vivid picture of strange and uncouth conditions attending passenger service to England in the mid-eighteenth century. The ship lay at anchor in the harbor and Mr. Bailey went out to her in a small boat.

"The wind was blowing strong, and it was some time before we could get on board ship. At length, with difficulty, I clambered up the side and found myself in the midst of a most horrid confusion. The deck was crowded full of men, and the boatswain's shrill whistle, with the swearing and hallooing of the petty officers, almost stunned my ears. I could find no retreat from this dismal hubbub, but was obliged to continue jostling among the crowd above an hour before I could find anybody at leisure to direct me. At last, Mr. Letterman, the Captain's steward, an honest Prussian, perceiving my disorder, introduced me through the steerage to the lieutenant. I found him sitting in the great cabin. He appeared to be a young man, scarce twenty years of age, and had in his countenance some indications of mildness. Upon my entrance he assumed a most important look and with a big voice demanded to know my request. I informed him that I was a passenger on board the Hind, by permission of Capt. Bond, and desired that he would be civil enough to direct me to the place of my destination. He replied in this laconic style: 'Sir, I will take care to speak to one of my mates.' This was all the notice, at present. But happily, on my return from the cabin, I found my chest and bedding carefully stowed away in the steerage. In the meantime the ship was unmoored and we fell gently down to Nantasket....

"I observed a young gentleman walking at a distance, with a pensive air in his countenance. Coming near him, in a courteous manner he invited me down between decks to a place he called his berth. I thanked him for his kindness and readily followed him down a ladder into a dark and dismal region, where the fumes of pitch, bilge water, and other kinds of nastiness almost suffocated me in a minute. We had not proceeded far before we entered a small apartment, hung round with damp and greasy canvas, which made, on every hand, a most gloomy and frightful appearance. In the middle stood a table of pine, varnished over with nasty slime, furnished with a bottle of rum and an old tin mug with a hundred and fifty bruises and several holes, through which the liquor poured in as many streams. This was quickly filled with toddy and as speedily emptied by two or three companions who presently joined us in this doleful retreat. Not all the scenes of horror about us could afford me much dismay till I received the news that this detestable apartment was allotted by the captain to be the place of my habitation during the voyage!