Sea life in Nelson's time

by John Masefield

The sick and wounded men were treated with comparative humanity. They were given nightcaps, hair mattresses, free vaccination, and sheets of real linen. The cook was sometimes bidden to boil up some “sowens,” or “flummery,” from the ship’s oatmeal for them. The very sick were given soft bread and “portable soup.” When fish were “caught for the ship’s company,” they got the first helping. When the officers had any fowls or similar delicacies in the ward-room, they often sent portions forward for the sick-bay, with any wine they had. But there were, nevertheless, certain cruel regulations in force which made the lot of some of the sick men sufficiently terrible. Lint was reckoned too expensive to be used for the washing of wounds. Sponges were used instead, but the supply of sponges was limited, and, in action, one sponge was often used to dress the wounds of a dozen men. This practice naturally favoured the spreading of various common forms of blood-poisoning. A man with a slight cut or abrasion ran a very good chance of losing a limb by the poison of an infected sponge. Another most barbarous restriction limited the supply of mercury, as “being requisite only for complaints that might be avoided.” A man attacked by one of those complaints was not allowed to leave his duty, he was mulcted more than two weeks’ pay for the medicines he drew, and no care was taken to separate him from his uninfected shipmates.

At the beating of the drum to quarters, the surgeon and his assistants were expected to repair to the after cockpit, to fit it for the reception of the wounded. Some of the non-combatants, such as the purser, the stewards, the chaplain, and the captain’s clerk, accompanied them, to help the wounded men according to their power. The midshipmen’s chests were drawn together, into a kind of platform. A sail was strewn over the top of them in several folds, as a sort of couch for the maimed men. In those ships in which the midshipmen were without a table the chests were used for the operation-table, though they were too low for comfortable surgery. When the operating table had been cleared, some large candles were placed upon it, in tin sconces, to give light to the surgeons. Other candles, in heavy ship’s lanterns, were arranged about the bulkheads. A portable stove was lighted, for the heating of oils, etc., during the operations. A kid of water was generally heated there, in which the surgeons could warm their saws and knives before commencing amputations. They did this, not as a modern surgeon would do it, to sterilise the steel, but in order to prevent the torture caused by the coldness of the metal against the raw flesh and bone. At the sides of the table were ranged several kids or half-tubs, some of them empty, to receive amputated limbs, some of them full of water for the washing of the surgeon’s arms, or for the cleansing of wounds. Close to the operating table were some opened bottles of spirits for the refreshment of those very weak from pain and loss of blood. There were also full supplies of styptics, bandages, sponges, tourniquets, saws, knives, etc. etc., all ready to hand, under a good light.

Before the firing began, the surgeon and his assistants stripped to their shirts, rolled up their sleeves to the shoulders, and braced themselves for a very ghastly experience. A few minutes after the fighting commenced, the wounded came down, supported or carried by their shipmates, who laid them on the operating table, and on the platform prepared for them. A few minutes firing at close range would generally send a dozen or twenty wounded men to the surgeons. It was the strict, inviolable rule, that a wounded man should take his turn. The first brought down was the first dressed. No favour was shown to any man, were he officer or swabber. The rule was equitable, but not without its disadvantages. Many men were so torn with shot or splinter that they bled to death upon the sail long before the surgeon worked his way round to them. The sailors were indeed taught the use of the tourniquet, but it is one thing to adjust a tourniquet on a mate’s arm, at the word of command in a quiet drill hour, and quite another to fix it upon a stump of raw flesh that is pumping blood, in all the fury and confusion of a sea-fight. Not many of the men brought down to the surgeons were properly bandaged.

A ship’s cockpit during a battle must have presented a lively picture of hell. There was the long narrow space shut in and cramped by the overhead beams and lit by the evilly smelling tallow candles. Up and down the deck in rows were the wounded, on their bloodstained sail. Every now and then some heavy feet padded down the hatchway, announcing the advent of another sufferer. Up above was the thundering of the leaping and banging cannon, which roared irregularly, shaking the ship in every timber. Nearer at hand were the poor wounded men, some of them stunned, and chewing placidly; others whimpering and moaning, some screaming and damning. Up and down the rows went the chaplain and civilians, with weak wine-and-water, lime juice, etc., for those in need of drink. In the centre of the piece, bent over the table, were the operators, hard at work. There was no time for lengthy diagnosis. The wound was always self-evident, red, and horrible. Its extent and seriousness had to be guessed from a glance. The surgeon’s first act was to rip off the bloody clothes with his scissors, to bare the wound. A single hurried look had to suffice. From that look he had to determine whether to amputate or to save the limb, whether the wound were mortal or worth dressing, etc. etc. If he decided to amputate, he passed his ligatures as a man would take turns with a hammock-lashing. The assistant gave the patient a gulp of rum, and thrust a leather gag into his mouth, for him to bite upon in the agony of the operation. After that, it took but a moment to make the two cuts, and to apply the saw, while one assistant held the patient’s body, and another the limb or fragment of limb which was coming off. There was really no time for delay. Men were perhaps bleeding to death at every second and it behoved the surgeons to hurry with each case.

The assistant-surgeon was generally a young man fresh from Surgeons’ Hall. He was expected to keep a record of all cases brought before him, to visit the sick in the sick-bay, and to do his best to cheer them. He dressed the men’s ulcers every forenoon, and had control of the slighter general cases. A first-rate ship carried three assistants; other large ships, two: and the smallest, one. An assistant surgeon sometimes accompanied wooding and watering parties, particularly in those places where the men were likely to be long ashore. It was his duty on these expeditions to look after the health of the men, to keep them from drinking putrid water, and eating acid fruits in the heat of the day. In tropical climates he dosed them religiously, twice every day, with a heavy dose of “bark” in a glass of wine.

Neither the surgeon, nor his assistants, wore uniform until the beginning of 1805. The pay varied with the length of service. A surgeon who had served twenty years, received 18s. a day. One who had served six years received 11s. a day. The assistants had to serve three years before they ranked as full surgeons. There were three grades of assistant surgeons, and the regulations enforced a year of service in each grade. The pay of the lowest grade was 4s. a day. The other two grades received 5 s. a day. Both surgeon and assistants were expected to supply their own instruments.[19] Their medicine and other gear were supplied by the Government. When not employed aboard the King’s ships, or in the King’s naval hospitals, the surgeons and assistants drew half-pay.

The chaplain of a ship of war (he was generally known as the rook, the psalm-singer, or the sky-pilot) had to be a clergyman of the Established Church. Many ships carried a chaplain, for the Admiralty instructions compelled them to accept any properly recommended clergyman “of good moral character,” who cared to offer himself for the berth. It is not certain what position chaplains held in the ships of Nelson’s time, but they probably had cabins “in the ward-room or gun-room,” and ranked and messed with the ward-room officers. They received a stipend of about £150 per annum, with an extra allowance for a servant, and a bounty of £20 a year to all who qualified as schoolmasters at the Trinity House. The captain had orders to see that the chaplain received “every proper attention and respect, due to his sacred office.” He had also to order the ship’s company to hear divine service and a sermon every Sunday morning, “if the duties of the ship, or the state of the weather do not absolutely prevent it.” He had, moreover, to use his influence to support the chaplain, by preventing “all profane cursing and swearing, all drunkenness, gaming, rioting and quarrelling, and in general everything which may tend to the disparagement of religion, or to the promoting of vice and immorality.” The chaplain, for his part, was expected to take care of the midshipmen, and to teach the ship’s boys (or cause them to be taught) their catechisms and the Holy Scriptures. The boys who said their catechism well were rewarded with sixpences. Those who were idle or stupid were punished. The chaplain had to attend the sick and wounded in the sick-bay or cockpit, “to prepare them for death, and to comfort or admonish them.” Those who died at sea were buried by him at the gangway in the presence of all hands. Those who were killed in action were generally thrown overboard without service of any kind. In some ships, even as late as the battle of the Nile, it was the custom for the ship’s company to muster to prayers before going in to battle. In times of stress, in storm, when the ship was on fire, or sinking, etc. etc., the chaplain was to set an example of Christian fortitude, and to cheer the men to their duty while the danger lasted. Captain Glascock tells a tale of a chaplain aboard the Mæander, who took his spell at the pumps to encourage the seamen. Marryat tells of another, who helped to put out a fire.

Some ships carried a schoolmaster in addition to the chaplain. It was the duty of the schoolmaster to teach the young gentlemen the art of navigation for two or three hours each morning. A schoolmaster received from £2, 8s. to £2 a month, with a bounty of £5 for each midshipman in his class. He messed with the ward-room or gun-room men, wore plain or civilian clothes, and slept in a cabin near the ward-room, or in the steerage. To receive an appointment as schoolmaster one had to pass an examination in navigation before the authorities at Trinity House.

Next in importance to the second masters, and ranking above the master’s mates and midshipmen, was the boatswain, an officer, indeed, but a warrant or standing officer, not “on the quarter-deck,” like the gentlemen we have been describing. A boatswain had charge of the “boats, sails, rigging, colours, anchors, cables and cordage.” He was generally an old sailor, grizzled and tanned, who knew his business as well as it could be known. No man could be appointed boatswain until he had served a year as a petty officer, to the satisfaction of his captain. On receiving his warrant he was expected to get his stores on board, and to examine every inch of rigging in the ship, in order to test its soundness, before the ship sailed. When at sea he was expected to make such an examination daily. On going into action he had to see that the chains, etc., for repairing the rigging, were in their places. He had to keep an eye upon the sailmaker, and to see that the sails in the sail locker were properly stowed, and kept dry. He was one of those officers honoured with “all night in.” He worked on deck at the discharge of his duty, from sunrise to sunset. He slept at night either in his cabin in the fore cockpit or in a favoured place upon the lower-deck, where double the usual swinging space was allowed for his hammock. He had a distinctive uniform, of blue cloth, with blue lapels and collar, white or blue trousers, according to taste, and gold anchor-buttons on the coat, cuffs, and pockets. His hat was the usual glazed, low top-hat, with a cockade on one side. He wore linen shirts or woollen jerseys just as he pleased. About his neck hung a thin silver chain, supporting a silver whistle—the badge of his office. When an officer gave an order the boatswain sounded the call peculiar to that order, and shouted the order down the hatchway, while the boatswain’s mates, his assistants, repeated it, till the ship rang with the noise. Directly the order had been given, the boatswain and his mates slipped down the hatchways, and hurried the crew to their duty with their colts and rattans. A boatswain always carried a cane, the end of which was waxed and “tip’d with simple twine-thread.” He had the power to thrash the laggards, and to cut at those who did not haul with sufficient fervour when the men were at the ropes. “This small stick of his,” says Edward Ward, “has wonderful virtue in it, and seems little inferior to the rod of Moses, of miraculous Memory; it has cured more of the Scurvy than the Doctor, and made many a poor Cripple take up his Bed, and walk; sometimes it makes the Lame to skip, and run up the Shrouds like a Monkey.” The boatswain’s cane and the colts of his mates continued to do execution till after 1815, when they were gradually laid aside. The privilege of the cane was very much abused. It encouraged the warrant officer to treat his subordinates cruelly, and the lives of those subordinates were made sufficiently miserable as it was.

In action the boatswain was stationed on the forecastle, which he commanded. At all times the boatswain had to see that clothes, etc., were not hung up to dry in the rigging. He had to take care that the ship’s fresh water was not diverted for the washing of the seamen’s clothes or hammocks. He had to keep the yards square when in port, and at all times he had orders to prevent ropes or lines from trailing overboard. Once a day, in fine weather, he was expected to lower a boat and row round the ship, to see that her outward trim was satisfactory, and that nothing needed to be repaired. In the mornings, when the hands were turned up, he had to go below with his mates to see the berth-deck cleared of hammocks. Laggards and sluggards who did not turn out, or hurry their hammocks away, were then enlivened by the colt or the cane. Those whose hammocks were not lashed up and stowed by eight bells, or 8 A.M., were reported to the officer of the watch. Their hammocks were taken from them, and locked up for a month in the boatswain’s store-room. The sluggard had to pass that month without a hammock as best he could, sleeping under the guns, or on deck, or in the tops, in considerable misery. Slighter punishments were meted out to those who did not number their hammocks so that they could be readily identified. The boatswain took his meals in his cabin in the fore cockpit. He had a ship’s boy to wait upon him, or, at least, shared a boy with the carpenter. In a home port, when the ship was laid up “in ordinary” (i.e. not in commission), the boatswain remained on board, with his mates and yeomen, and a few other standing officers, to help the dockyard men in their dismantling or rerigging of the vessel. While “in ordinary” the boatswain stood watch at night, to prevent desertion, or fire, etc., and to keep away shore boats bringing contraband (such as drink) to the men on board. His pay varied from about £4, 16s. a month in a first-rate to about £3 a month in a sixth-rate. His assistants—the rope-maker, yeomen, and boatswain’s mates—received from two guineas to two guineas and a half a month. One of the last of the boatswain’s privileges or duties was that of “piping the side” when a captain came aboard. Lastly, he had charge of the boats when they lay in-board on the booms. One of the boats, either the yawl or the long boat, was under his care at all times, just as the captain’s gig or dinghy was always in charge of the coxswain.