A quick note: my name is Mike Romero, and I'm a Historic Interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg. The postings I make on this site are my own personal opinions and research, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Colonial Williamsburg. With that said, enjoy the read!
John Montagu, 4th Earl of Sandwich,
First Lord of the Admiralty and
Fellow of the Royal Society in 1773.
Captain Phipps of the Racehorse spends much of May 1773 preparing his ship for the coming expedition. Stores of all kinds are taken on board, and the First Lord of the Admiralty himself (also a Fellow of the Royal Society) inspects the vessel prior to her departure. Towards the end of the month, Phipps receives his official orders for the expedition, described in the following journal entry:
"22d. We received on board the powder, with eight six-pounders and all the gunner's stores. Lord Sandwich gave us the last mark of the obliging attention he had shewn during the whole progress of the equipment, by coming on board himself, before our departure, that the whole had been compleated to the wish of those who were embarked in the expedition. The Easterly winds prevented our going down the river till the 26th, when I received my instructions for the voyage, dated the 25th; directing me to fall down to the Nore in the Racehorse, and there taking under my command the Carcass, to make the best of my way to the Northward, and proceed up to the North Pole, or as far towards it as possible, and as nearly upon a meridian as the ice or other obstructions might admit; and, during the course of the voyage, to make such observations of every kind as might be useful to navigation, or tend to the promotion of natural knowledge: in case of arriving at the Pole, and even finding free navigation on the opposite meridian; not to proceed any farther; and at all events to secure my return to the Nore before the winter should set in. There was also a clause authorizing me to proceed, in unforeseen cases, according to my own discretion; and another clause directing me to prosecute the voyage on board the Carcass, in case the Racehorse should be lost or disabled."
With Racehorse ready for sea, all that remains is to rendezvous with Carcass and get the expedition started in earnest. As with any vessel, the captain and crew must adjust her fittings and trim based upon the performance of the ship and the needs of the coming mission. The journal entry for May 27th shows that the best laid plans on paper don't always coincide with actual circumstances at sea:
Model of a British bomb ketch from the mid-1700's,
similar in design to HMS Carcass.
(Mariner's Museum, Newport News, VA)
"27th. I anchored at the Nore, and was joined by Captain Lutwidge, in the Carcass, on the 30th: her equipment was to have been all respects the same as that of the Racehorse, but when fitted, Captain Lutwidge finding her too deep in the water to proceed to sea with safety, obtained leave of the Admiralty to put six more guns on shore, to reduce the complement to eighty men, and return a quantity of provisions proportional to that reduction. The officers were recommended by Captain Lutwidge, and did justice to his penetration by their conduct in the course of the voyage. During our stay here, Mr. Lyons landed with the astronomical quadrant at Sheerness fort, and found the latitude to be 51°31'30", longitude 0°30' East. The Easterly winds prevented our moving this day and the following."
While not officers (yet), two members of Carcass' company in particular are worth a mention: coxswains Horatio Nelson and Nicholas Biddle. Nelson's naval career is well known. Nicholas Biddle would have a brief but very laudable career in the Continental Navy, culminating in a 1778 engagement off Barbados commanding the Continental frigate Randolph against the 64-gun HMS Yarmouth. Worthy of a future blog post of his own, the former slave and early abolitionist Olaudah Equiano serves aboard Racehorse, assisting Dr. Charles Irving who had developed a method for distilling drinkable water from seawater. Equiano's autobiography, The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African, would be published in 1789.
Meteorological observations begin on June 4, 1773. With my next entry in this series, we'll begin seeing who has a more pleasant summer's day: my colleagues and I on the streets of Colonial Williamsburg, or the officers and men of Racehorse and Carcass.
Source:
Phipps, Constantine John. A Voyage Towards the North Pole Undertaken at His Majesty's Command. (J. Nourse, 1773.)
A quick note: my name is Mike Romero, and I'm a Historic Interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg. The postings I make on this site are my own personal opinions and research, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Colonial Williamsburg. With that said, enjoy the read!
Anyone who has spent a summer in the tidewater of Virginia can tell you that it gets hot and sticky down here. Interpreters throughout Colonial Williamsburg have their own tricks for beating the summer heat. Me, I'm trying a variant of 'mind over mater,' pretending I'm somewhere a bit cooler. To that end, this is the first in a series of posts I'll be making throughout the summer chronicling the attempt of two Royal Navy vessels to sail to the North Pole in the summer of 1773. I'll be posting entries from the journal on particularly noteworthy days with some interesting background information, as well as weather data recorded that day during the expedition and comparing it to what the Weather Channel app says about CW, just for fun.
Constantine John Phipps,
Second Baron Mulgrave
The notion of a passage to the East Indies via the North Pole was suggested as early as 1527. In a letter to King Henry VIII, Robert Thorne suggests that as Spain and Portugal had profited greatly from nautical discoveries to the east and west, and that it was only natural that England should profit from discoveries to the north...in fact, Thorne apparently suggests that it is the King's particular duty to further England's reputation and glory by promoting such explorations. In another letter written to Henry's ambassador to Charles V, THorne hypothesizes that during the summer, it shouldn't be prohibitively cold at the Pole due to the abundance of daylight; he suggests that the notion that encountering excessive cold at the Pole to the point of death will prove as equally as fallacious as the old notion of dying from extreme heat as one approached the equator. Several known northern reaches experiencing fairly temperate climates year round tended to support his hypothesis.
Despite the writings of Thorne and several other prominent thinkers, no exploration of the circumpolar seas appear to have taken place until Henry Hudson attempted to find a northern passage to Japan and China in 1607. Hudson and several other explorers in the years between 1607 and 1613 attempt to pass the North Pole by sea, none getting farther north than 82 degrees latitude before encountering impassible ice. No other voyages were known to be attempted until 1773, when the Royal Society encouraged King George III to order and sponsor another expedition. Constantine Phipps was already an accomplished naval officer, and a veteran of the Seven Years War. In 1765, he served as a lieutenant aboard HMS Niger during an exploration and survey of Newfoundland, where he becomes friends with the soon to be prominent natuaralist Joseph Banks. When Phipps hears of the expedition being planned, he quickly volunteers, and is selected to command the expedition consisting of the converted bomb ketches Racehorse and Carcass.
Knowing that the expedition will face many difficulties from the cold, likely harder than normal labor, and most likely encounter large amounts of dangerous ice, the two vessels are fitted out appropriately. The bomb ketches (a type of vessel whose primary armament are a series of heavy mortars, ideal for shore bombardment) already boast a strong construction due to the nature of their original mission, but their hulls are further reinforced to better punch through loose pack ice without risk of damage. The usual stock of provisions described in 'Regulations and Instructions Relating to His Majesty's Service at Sea' are adjusted to include additional supplies of spirits as an added constitutional and incentive for the men, a more extensive variety of cold weather clothing is added to the slop chests, an apparatus for distilling drinkable water from the sea is put aboard, and the crews are chosen specifically to be of high experience (substituting additional Able Seamen for the usual number of boys), officers hand-picked for their reliability, etc. Various instruments for a variety of scientific purposes are included, along with several members of the Royal Society to make many valuable scientific observations of opportunity during the voyage.
From Phipps' Journal:
"April 19th, 1773, I received my commission for the Racehorse, with an order to get her fitted with the greatest dispatch for a voyage of discovery towards the North Pole, and to proceed to the Nore for further orders."
No weather data until we get out to sea. Join me throughout the summer to see how the voyage unfolds!
Source:
Phipps, Constantine John. A Voyage Towards the North Pole Undertaken at His Majesty's Command. (J. Nourse, 1773.)
A quick note: my name is Mike Romero, and I'm a Historic Interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg. The postings I make on this site are my own personal opinions and research, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Colonial Williamsburg. With that said, enjoy the read!
"Commodore Hopkins, Commander-in-Chief
of the American Fleet,"
mezzotint engraved by C. Corbutt
In the early hours of April 6, 1776, in waters off New England, five ships of the Continental Navy:the 30-gun ship Alfred, the brigs Cabot, Columbus, and Andrew Doria, along with the sloop Providence came across the 20-gun HMS Glascow and her tender Nautilus. Under the command of Commodore Esek Hopkins, the Continental squadron anticipated an easy victory. The morning would not go as planned.
The British vessel had been sighted by a lookout aboard Andrew Doria just after midnight. Captain Nicholas Biddle, a veteran of the Royal Navy, promptly ordered light hung from the ensign staff and two false fires lit in the prearranged signal for having sighted a strange sail. Less than an hour later, the brig Cabot was alongside Andrew Doria with the Continental flagship Alfred right behind. As the Continentals closed on the enemy, Biddle regularly expected signals from Commodore Hopkins dictating tactics to the squadron...forming a line of battle to smash Glascow with successive broadsides, for example...but he was disappointed. No signals came from the flagship, and Biddle watched with disgust as each ship went off on it's own initiative, "all went Helter Skelter, one flying here and another there to cut off the retreat of a fellow who did not fear us,"
HMS Glascow was a relatively small vessel; at 20-guns she was the minimum strength to qualify as a sixth rate, just large enough to have a full post-captain in command rather than a commander or even a lieutenant. Glascow had originally been part of a larger British squadron known to be operating nearby, but she and her tender had been recently detached to Virginia, bearing dispatches for Lord Dunmore. Under the command of Captain Tyringham Howe, Glascow made straight for the Continental squadron, despite being outnumbered five-to-one. Coming up on the port bow of Cabot, Howe asked the ships to identify themselves. Cabot's Captain John Hopkins (son of the Commodore) named his own ship and Alfred just astern. The exchange was cut short when a Marine on one of Cabot's fighting tops threw a grenade that exploded on Glascow's deck. The British promptly responded with a full broadside, and the engagement began.
Cabot was outmatched, attempting to put her sixteen 6-pound guns against Glascow's twenty 9-pounders. To make matters worse, Cabot was crewed with Americans almost entirely unused to battle at sea, with nervous gun crews unable to match the British vessel's far superior rate of fire. Multiple broadsides smashed the Continental brig, ruining her rigging, killing four and wounding seven to include the young Captain Hopkins. After several minutes of intense punishment, Cabot sheered off to allow Alfred to attack. In the process, she very nearly rammed Andrew Doria as the other brig moved in to attack. Captain Biddle's quick reflexes prevented a collision, but in doing so was forced to temporarily turn away from the engagement.
With twenty 9-pounders and ten 6-pounders, Alfred should have been more than a match for Glascow. Once again, however, the relative inexperience of the Continental crew came back to bite them. The British ship fired far more often than Alfred, despite the heroic efforts of Lieutenant John Paul Jones on her gun deck, his relentless drilling of the gun crews paying off as Glascow began to take damage. Marines on both ships poured musket fire and grenades at the opposing crews. The two ships blazed away for nearly a half hour before a fortuitous shot destroyed Alfred's wheel block and ropes...the Continental flagship could no longer steer. Drifting out of control, Alfred was helpless as Glascow crossed her bow and raked her, firing a broadside down the entire length of the ship. This proved to be devastating to Alfred: rigging was shredded, masts damaged, the hull pierced below the waterline, and killing four aboard ship.
A short time later, Alfred had regained control of her steering and Glascow was sailing past her to the northeast with Andrew Doria in hot pursuit. After working furiously to get his ship into action, Captain Abraham Whipple in the brig Columbus was able to approach Glascow's stern on the starboard side. It had taken nearly two hours, but three of the Continental ships were finally able to coordinate their attack: Alfred to port, Andrew Doria at the center, and Columbus to starboard. The Cabot remained out of action, almost completely disabled. Captain John Hazard of the sloop Providence expended all his efforts in keeping his speedy vessel safely clear of the action. The three active Continental ships traded chaser fire with Glascow and were slowly closing. It began to look increasingly likely that the British frigate would be taken, and Captain Howe ordered his signal books and dispatches cast overboard to prevent their capture.
The chase continued until dawn, when the wind unexpectedly changed, allowing the harried Glascow to bear away. As the light increased, Commodore Hopkins realized that Captain Howe was not fleeing...he was attempting to lure the Continental ships towards Newport, Rhode Island where a squadron of British reinforcements under Captain James Wallace lay in wait. Hopkins ordered his ships to break off, and the action ended. Three hours later, HMS Glascow arrived in Newport, with severe damage to her rigging and masts, with one man dead and three wounded (all from Continental Marine musket fire). Hopkins collected his battered squadron and the five ships reached New London, Connecticut the next day. The crews of the Continental ships were welcomed as conquering heroes...the five of them had come together to make a single small ship of the world's most powerful navy running, after all.
In truth, Hopkins' decision not to pursue Glascow into Newport was likely the wisest of his naval career. The Continental Navy had a long way to go if they truly intended to prove an effective force against the Royal Navy. Political infighting and quiet criticism from Captain Biddle and Lieutenant Jones would steadily weaken Hopkins' credibility, leading to his eventual relief as Commander in Chief. The Continental Navy was off to a decidedly mediocre start, but there would be better days in the future.
Source:
McGrath, Tim. Give Me a Fast Ship: The Continental Navy and America's Revolution at Sea. (The Penguin Group, 2014.)
A quick note: my name is Mike Romero, and I'm a Historic Interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg. The postings I make on this site are my own personal opinions and research, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Colonial Williamsburg. With that said, enjoy the read!
Another 'specialty' posts based on programming emphasis taking place at Colonial Williamsburg. Throughout the month of March, CW has been putting on a great deal of programming for Women's History Month. Specialty tours, presentations like "Tag Rag and Bobtail" describing the trials and tribulations of women following the armies fighting in the American Revolution, tales of local midwives, gentry and middle class and enslaved women, you get the idea. It's always amazing to see how much more there is to learn about the 18th century, and I thought it appropriate for me to do some research on women serving at sea during the Age of Sail.
There are many tales of boatloads of prostitutes swarming naval vessels when they pull in to harbor, and others of women disguising themselves as men to join the navy in secret. All of that is an important part of naval history to be sure, but I thought I would take the time to highlight a few examples of women serving openly aboard ship.
"The Destruction of L'Orient at the Battle of the Nile"
by George Arnold, 1827
Women in the Royal Navy
The Battle of the Nile taking place from August 1-3, 1798 remains one of the most celebrated actions of Horatio Nelson, eclipsed only by Trafalgar and the tragic death of Britain's greatest naval hero. Two years ago, I read an excellent work by Brian Lavery called Nelson and the Nile, which remains my favorite non-fiction book to this day. As I was just starting out in my exploration of naval history, and was quite surprised to read of the exploits of several women openly serving in Nelson's squadron.
Of course, according to the "Regulations and Instructions Relating to His Majesty's Service at Sea," by which the Royal Navy was governed, it was strictly forbidden to carry any woman to sea without express permission from the Admiralty. This rule seems to have been overlooked fairly often or simply ignored. Aboard the 74-gun Goliath, four of the nineteen men killed at the Nile left widows aboard ship. Also aboard Goliath, sailor John Nicol remarked, "The women behaved as well as the men, and got a present for their bravery from the Grand Signior." At Trafalgar in 1805, Nicol would again speak well of the women aboard ship, supporting his efforts in the magazine, saying he was "mich indebted to the gunner's wife, who gave her husband and me a drink of water every now and then, which lessened our fatigue much."
Meanwhile, aboard the 74-gun Orion, Ann Hopping worked throughout the battle in the powder magazine, helping to make and fill flannel cartridges to serve the guns as the battle raged around her. Many years later, Ann would recount her adventures aboard Orion (where her husband and brother served) at age 93. Unfortunately, she would get little recognition for her service as both she and Mary Ann Riley were denied the Naval General Service Medal, despite taking part in the battle, on grounds of gender alone. Christina White of Majestic petitioned for a pension after having served as a nurse during the campaign.
Most, if not all, of the women aboard Nelson's ships at the Nile appear to have been the wives of petty and warrant officers; I cannot imagine the common sailor would have enough influence aboard ship to successfully get permission to bring his wife to sea with him. Even so, since women were effectively forbidden on board, they would not be included on the ship's books, and no one who is not on the ship's books is entitled to the victuals distributed to the crew. They and their husbands would have to arrange for their own provisions to sustain them at sea. Following the battle, Captain Foley listed Ann Taylor, Elizabeth Moore, Sarah Bates, and Mary French in Goliath's muster book, and allowed them to receive victuals at two thirds of the men's allowance, "in consideration of their assistance in dressing and tending the wounded, being widows of men slain in fight with the enemy on the first day of August 1798." One wonders if Foley was later made to account to the Victualling Board for the unauthorized expenditure.
Another side effect of not listing women on the ship's books is that there is no accurate way to compute any casualties they suffered. John Nicol reports that several women were wounded in Goliath, and one woman from Leith eventually died of her wounds, soon to be buried on Aboukir Island. Despite the fact that their presence could not be officially acknowledged, numerous British women displayed the courage and fortitude to defend their country and their families at sea.
An engraving of the frigate United States under full sail
by Master William Brady, USN.
Women in the United States Navy
Following the United States' declaration of war against Great Britain in 1812, the fledgling United States Navy enjoyed a string of victories in single ship actions: Constitution vs. Guerriere, Wasp vs. Frolic, United States vs. Macedonian, and Constitution vs. Java. Despite these initial victories at sea, the American naval situation was somewhat desperate with the Royal Navy intending to blockade the coast from New York to New Orleans. Special attention was paid to the city of Boston with the goal of keeping the American frigates bottled up in port. In June of 1813, the luckless frigate Chesapeake would be captured by HMS Shannon attempting to run the Boston blockade.
Meanwhile at New York, Commodore Stephen Decatur's squadron, led by the frigate United States tried unsuccessfully to get to sea. Quickly realizing that any serious attempt to break through the blockade would certainly result in fierce action and likely significant casualties, Decatur decided that it could be useful to carry several nurses aboard ship in case it should prove difficult to transfer his wounded to hospitals ashore. The wives of two seamen would soon join United States as nurses in the spring of 1813.
Mary Marshall and Mary Humphries Allen appear on the ship's books as supernumerary nurses on May 10, 1813. No information exists as to any previous medical experience for the two women, but one assumes the ship's surgeon was instrumental in establishing and supervising their duties aboard ship. Mary Marshall was the wife of a former British sailor named William Goodman (he joined the USN as 'John Allen' to avoid retaliation for his desertion). Mary Marshall's husband is difficult to identify; he may have been either James or Thomas Marshall, both of whom appear on the ship's books in 1811 and 1813, respectively. Unfortunately, the two women are unlikely to have served in action, as United States never made it far out to sea while they were aboard. Late in May, United States and her squadron cruised from New York, passed through Hell Gate and reached New London, CT on May 26. Decatur spent the next five days gathering what intelligence he could on the dispositions of British warships in the area. Receiving word that the closest British ships were off station and leaving an escape route open, Decatur put to sea again, but quickly encountered a pair of British 74's off Block Island. Despite the British attempts to cut off escape, the squadron safely returned to New London where it remained closely blockaded.
On October 28, 1813, John Allen fell overboard while performing work on the ship's anchor and cathead, and drowned. After her husband was buried in New London, Mary Allen receives permission from Commodore Decatur to make her return to New York. What happened to Mary Marshall is unknown...she may have returned to New York with Mrs. Allen, or could have accompanied her husband to his next assignment (Decatur and much of the United States crew was transferred to the frigate President in early 1814). While little information remains on what impact these two women made aboard United States, nurses Mary Marshall and Mary Allen remain the earliest documented instances of females serving aboard a United States warship.
Admiral Michelle Howard,
the USN's first female 4-Star Admiral.
Today
Since the Age of Sail, women have continued to distinguish themselves at sea. Michelle Howard was not only the first African-American woman to command an American warship (USS Rushmore in 1999), but as Vice Chief of Naval Operations, she was promoted to become the US Navy's first female 4-Star Admiral in 2014. Wendi Carpenter became the first female naval aviator promoted to flag rank in 2011. Margaret Klein would become the first female Commandant of Midshipmen at the United States Naval Academy. These are just a few modern examples; I'd be remiss in writing an article on women in the navy if I didn't mention "Amazing" Grace Hopper (one of America's first female admirals), who spent decades working on early computers in the US Navy.
Given enough time, I could go on at great length of the achievements women have made in the navies of the world. Suffice it to say that they have more than proven themselves capable of thriving in a life of hardship upon the raging main. I'd like to conclude with the following remark made by Rear Admiral Lord Sir, Edward Pellew, Viscount Exmouth, reporting on the Battle of Algiers in 1816:
"British women served at the same guns with their husbands, and during a contest of many hours, never shrank from danger, but animated all around them."
Sources:
1. Lavery, Brian, Nelson and the Nile: The Naval War Against Bonaparte, 1798, (Endeavour Press, Ltd., 2014).
2. Langley, Harold D. "The Old Navy: Women in a Warship, 1813." Proceedings January 1984: 124-125. Print.
3. Stark, Suzanne, Female Tars: Women Aboard Ship in the Age of Sail, (US Naval Institute Press, 1996).
4. New York Times, A Four-Star Female Admiral Makes History for the Navy, https://www.nytimes.com/2014/07/12/us/12admiral.html?_r=0 (July 11, 2014).
5. Wikipedia, Women in the United States Navy, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Women_in_the_United_States_Navy (March 29, 2017).
A quick note: my name is Mike Romero, and I'm a Historic Interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg. The postings I make on this site are my own personal opinions and research, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Colonial Williamsburg. With that said, enjoy the read!
Facade of Cesar Tarrant Elementary School in Hampton,
open from 1970-2015, and named for an enslaved veteran
of the Virginia Navy in the American Revolution.
It can be difficult to write with any confidence about the Virginia State Navy in service during the American Revolution, primarily because very few records (and certainly nothing in the way of individual ship logs) survive. To help encourage my oldest daughter as she worked on a school report for Black History Month, I decided to do a little research into slaves and free blacks serving in the Virginia State Navy; records for something so specific are even more difficult to find, but with a little perseverance I was able to discover several interesting stories.
Various court records, land bounty claims, journals of the House of Delegates, and other sources give multiple names: Abram, William Boush, Chris (a mulatto), Emanuel, Jack Knight, Kingston (owned by Jenifer Marshall, sailing master of the row galley Accomac, and assigned to the same vessel as a foremast jack), Minny, and Singleton...these men are described only as "negro," though several are rated as pilots. Pilots could be very valuable resources to military or merchant vessels coming into local waters; pilots are hired to guide ships through shallows, around sandbars, shoals, etc, to arrive at a safe mooring.
Slightly more substantial information exists for two slaves named Cuffy. The first Cuffy, owned by Elenor Boury, is enlisted aboard the galley Norfolk Revenge in September 1777 as an able seaman...such a rating implies in most cases several years experience at sea. The second Cuffy was assigned as a pilot aboard a row galley under the command of Hampton's Richard Barron. This Cuffy "died from injuries received in service" in 1781.
A small entry exists for Nimrod Perkins, "a freeman of Colour" who served aboard the row galley Diligence. According to records circa 1831, Nimrod and shipmates William White and Elkanah Andrews are the only surviving members of the crew.
A desertion notice from Dixon and Hunter's Virginia Gazette, May 16, 1777.
Joseph Ranger was a free black captured by the British aboard the schooner Patriot in early 1781. Though he remained a prisoner for the remainder of the war, Ranger had also previously served aboard the Virginia vessels Hero, Dragon, and Jefferson.
Cesar Tarrant, an enslaved pilot owned by Carter Tarrant of Hampton, would go on to distinguish himself during the American Revolution. In 1779, Cesar was at the helm of the schooner Patriot (itself a tender of the larger vessel Tartar) in an action against the British privateer Lord Howe. Despite the enemy vessel being more heavily armed and manned than initially supposed, the Virginia vessels closed in to attack. Cesar bravely brought the Patriot alongside Lord Howe, ramming her bowspirit through the galley porthole of the larger vessel. Tartar and Patriot's attack on Lord Howe would prove to be a rather bloody affair, with the British privateer eventually making its escape despite the best efforts of the Virginian tars. Cesar was at Patriot's helm throughout the engagement, and was observed by Captain Richard Taylor to have behaved gallantly. Following the end of the American Revolution, the state of Virginia would pass legislation securing Cesar's freedom: "Cesar entered very early into the service of his country and continued to pilot the armed vessels of the state during the late war; in consideration of which meritorious services during the late war it is judged expedient to purchase the freedom of the said Cesar." Following his manumission, Cesar purchased a lot in Hampton where numerous white river pilots lived, apparently with some measure of respect, as several of these pilots petitioned the new state to grant licenses to skilled black pilots as well as whites. In 1793, Cesar would purchase the freedom of his wife Lucy and their youngest child Nancy, though he would be unable to free their other two children, Sampson and Lydia, before his death in 1798. Lucy would eventually be able to purchase Lydia's freedom in 1823, though Sampson's fate remains unknown.
Virginia was able to float the largest navy (upwards of fifty vessels of varying size at its height) among the thirteen original United States during the American Revolution, with a modicum of success. The contributions of brothers James and Richard Barron, Thomas "Silverfist" Herbert, and other prominent figures (more on these later) are handily remembered, but the efforts of free blacks and slaves in the defense of Virginia cannot be ignored. As is seen in such inspiring stories as the Rhode Island Regiment, and James Armistead Lafayette, the freedom of Virginia and the United States was secured through the bravery of patriots from all walks and stations of life.
Sources:
Stewart, Robert Armistead. The History of Virginia's Navy of the Revolution
Tormey, James. The Virginia Navy in the Revolution: Hampton's Commodore James Barron and His Fleet
AfriGeneas Slave Research Forum Archive: Tarrant, Cesar.
A quick note: my name is Mike Romero, and I'm a Historic Interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg. The postings I make on this site are my own personal opinions and research, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Colonial Williamsburg. With that said, enjoy the read!
In January of 1778, the city of Philadelphia, PA was under British occupation. During this time, Francis Hopkinson, Chairman of the Navy Board, entertained multiple suggestions on how to harass British naval forces in the Delaware River. A suggestion from David Bushnell (designer of the submarine Turtle that had been put to use in New York two years previous) was put to use: kegs of gunpowder attached to buoy casks would be floated down the Delaware towards the British ships at anchor, where they would hopefully explode as improvised river mines. Unfortunately, the scheme did not work as planned. The British ships had already anchored in such a way to prevent damage from chunks of ice floating down the river, which also served to protect them from the mines. Other than two curious boys who were killed investigating the mines too closely, no damage was done. Once the threat of the mines had been identified, however, the British poured small arms and broadside fire alike into the Delaware, not allowing even a single keg-like object to remain afloat. The incident became known as the "Battle of the Kegs." A comical account of the action can be found in the Philadelphia Ledger:
"Extract of a letter from Philadelphia, Jan. 9, 1778. - The city has been lately entertained with a most astonishing instance of the activity, bravery, and military skill of the royal navy of Great Britain. The affair is somewhat particular and deserves your notice. Some time last week, two boys observed a keg of singular construction, floating in the river opposite to the city. They got into a small boat, and in attempting to obtain the keg, it burst with a great explosion, and blew up the unfortunate boys. On Monday last, several kegs of a like construction made their appearance. An alarm was immediately spread through the city. Various reports prevailed, filling the city and royal troops with consternation. Some reported that these kegs were filled with armed rebels, who were to issue forth in the dead of the night, as did the Grecians of old from their wooden horse at the siege of Troy, and take the city by surprise, asserting that they had seen the points of their bayonets through the bung-holes of the kegs. Others said they were charged with the most inveterate combustibles, to be kindled by secret machinery, and setting the whole Delaware in flames, were to consume all the shipping in the harbor; whilst others asserted they were constructed by art magic, would, of themselves, ascend the wharves in the night-time, and roll all flaming through the streets of the city, destroying every thing in their way. Be this as it may, certain it is that the shipping in the harbor, and all the wharves in the city, were fully manned. The battle began, and it was surprising to behold the incessant blaze that was kept up against the enemy, the kegs. Both officers and men exhibited the most unparalleled skill and bravery on the occasion, whilst the citizens stood gazing as solemn witnesses of their prowess. From the Roebuck, and other ships of war, whole broadsides were poured into the Delaware. In short, not a wandering chip, stick, or drift log, but felt the vigor of the British arms. The action began about sunrise, and would have been completed with great success by noon, had not an old market-woman, coming down the river with provisions, unfortunately let a small keg of butter fall overboard, which, as it was then ebb tide, floated down to the scene of action. At the sight of this unexpected reinforcement of the enemy, the battle was renewed with fresh fury, and the firing was incessant till evening closed the affair. The kegs were either totally demolished, or obliged to fly, as none of them have shown their heads since. It is said that his Excellency Lord Howe has despatched a swift-sailing packet, with an account of this victory, to the court at London. In a word, Monday, the fifth of January, seventeen hundred and seventy-eight, must ever be distinguished in history for the memorable battle of the kegs."
Hopkinson would go on to write a propaganda ballad/poem about the action, frequently sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle:
Gallants, attend, and hear a friend
Trill forth harmonious ditty,
Strange things I'll tell that late befell
In Philadelphia city.
'Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on log of wood
And saw a sight surprising.
As, in amaze, he stood to gaze;
The truth can't be denied, sirs,
He spied a score of kegs or more,
Come floating down the tide, sirs.
A sailor, too, in jerkin blue,
The strange appearance viewing,
First damned his eyes in great surprise,
Then said, "Some mischief's brewing."
"The kegs now hold the rebel bold
Packed up like pickled herring;
And they've come down to attack the town
In this new way of ferrying."
The soldier flew, the sailor, too,
And, scared almost to death, sirs,
Wore out their shoes to spread the news,
And ran till out of breath, sirs.
Now up and down, throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted;
And some ran here and some ran there,
Like men almost distracted.
Some "Fire" cried, which some denied,
But said the earth had quaked;
And girls and boys, with hideous noise,
Ran through the town half-naked.
Lord William, he, snug as a flea,
Lay all this time a-snoring
Nor dreamed of harm as he lay warm
In bed with Mrs. Loring
Now, in a fright he starts upright
Awakened by such a clatter;
He rubs both eyes and boldly cries,
"For God's sake, what's the matter?"
At his bedside he then espied
Sir Erskine at command, sirs;
Upon one foot he had a boot,
And t'other in his hand, sirs.
"Arise! Arise!" Sir Erskine cries;
"The rebels---more's the pity---
Without a boat are all afloat,
And ranged before the city."
"The motley crew, in vessels new
With Satan for their guide, sir,
Packed up in bags, or wooden kegs,
Come driving donwn the tide sir.
Therefore, prepare for bloody war!
Those kegs must all be routed,
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted."
The royal band now ready stand
All ranged in dead array, sirs,
With stomach stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sirs.
The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle;
Since wars began, I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.
The rebel vales, the rebel dales,
With rebel trees surrounded,
The distant woods, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.
The fish below swam to and fro,
Attacked from every quarter-
"Why sure," thought they, "the devil's to pay
'Mongst folks above the water."
The kegs, 'tis said, tho' strongly made
Of rebel staves and hoops, sirs,
Could not oppose the powerful foes,
The conquering British troops, sirs.
From morn to night these men of might
Displayed amazing courage,
And when the sun was fairly down
Returned to sup their porridge.
A hundred men, with each a pen,
Or more---upon my words, sirs,
It is most true---would be too few
Their valor to record, sirs,
Such feats did they perform that day
Upon those wicked kegs, sirs,
That years to come, if they get home
They'll make their boasts and brags, sirs.
This sounds like too much fun not to sing in the streets. Who will join me on the chorus?
A quick note: my name is Mike Romero, and I'm a Historic Interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg. The postings I make on this site are my own personal opinions and research, and do not necessarily reflect the views of Colonial Williamsburg. With that said, enjoy the read!
I've been silent here for a few months, due primarily to being bogged down in research and training opportunities at Colonial Williamsburg. A lot is happening at my end, and I've been trying to make the most of it. Nonetheless, it's high time for a new post. I thought I'd center my first post of the new year around one of my favorite props/instruments: the sextant.
For those not familiar with the story, early in the summer of 2016, I came across an excellent article on British Tars called "The Tools Needed for Dead Reckoning." It described instruments like the chip log, log board, etc. and how they were used by mariners to approximate their use at sea. As I'd recently been given a fair bit of leeway to interpret an 18th century sailor at Colonial Williamsburg, I thought this an excellent opportunity to develop an activity and demonstrate a purely nautical still at work that you wouldn't be likely to see anywhere in town. Armed with an early 1700's map of the Caribbean, an improvised chip log, log board, and protractor, I set to work. Setting up on a stack of crates along Duke of Gloucester, guests were quickly drawn to the map and began asking about what I was doing. On numerous occasions throughout each day, I'd have small groups working with me to use the tools to plot an imagined course along the sea. Very pleased to be having a positive impact with my dead reckoning demonstration, I described my successes on Facebook. Not long after, I came home from work to find a package from Amazon from an unknown sender. I opened it up to find the object in the picture, a nautical sextant stamped with "J. Scott, London 1753."
Obviously, I was surprised. I'm still not sure who was kind enough to send this to me (I suspect it was a member of my family who is enthusiastic about what I had been doing), but I soon put the sextant to good use. I was able to learn how to use the sextant fairly quickly by watching videos like this one on YouTube, and thanks to the Navigation in the Age of Sail group on Facebook, I was able to find a copy of the Nautical Almanac and Astronomical Ephemeris for the Year 1767 via Google Books. From there, it was relatively easy to begin interpreting a noon sighting and showing guests how the sextant could be used to determine one's latitude.
Predictably, after going through the activity and seeing the sextant at work, guests frequently asked me, "Is this a real sextant from the time period?" Finding a complete answer to that one took some doing, but eventually I was successful. Searching the maker's stamp on my sextant didn't yield me much...it doesn't seem to be based in any history I can find (yet), and searching "J. Scott London" online only takes you a page where you can purchase the sextant itself. Multiple online sources, however, state that the first sextant was not produced until 1759 by John Bird. Most images or descriptions of sextants I found from the period were made primarily of woods like mahogany or ebony, and numerous sources suggesting brass sextants were much heavier for their size and provided an undue amount of wind resistance when being used at sea. Undaunted, I looked for more information on period sextants. In reading through the 1767 Nautical Almanac to try and teach myself the lunar method for finding longitude (an uphill battle and one that frequently produces migraines, I assure you), I came across this description of an ideal instrument to be used:
"But it will be more convenient if the Instrument be made a Sextant, in which case it will measure 120o for the Sake of observing the Moon's Distance from the Sun for Two or Three Days after the first and before the last Quarter. The Instrument will still be more fit for the Purpose, if it is be furnished with a Screw to move the Index gradually in measuring the Moon's Distance from the Sun or Star; an additional dark Glass, lighter than the mommon ones, to take off the Glare of the Moon's Light in observing her Distance from a fixed Star, and a small Telescope magnifying Three or FOur Times to render the Contact of the Star with the Moon's Limb more discernable. A magnifying Glass of 11/2 or Two Inches Focus will assist the Observer to read off his Observation with greater Ease and Certainty."
Brass notwithstanding, this describes my own sextant fairly well. It's tough to see in the image I posted at the top of the page, but my sextant does have a small telescope to magnify the image in the horizon mirror, a short focus magnifying glass to better read the index, and light and dark shades for the lenses. More recently, I came across this tidbit in A Voyage Towards the North Pole, published in 1774 by Constantine Phipps of the Royal Navy as a chronicle of his expedition the previous year:
"The observations for finding the time at sea, were taken with a brass Hadley's Sextant of eighteen inches radius, made by Dollond; and sometimes by Captain Phipps, with a smaller of four inches radius, made by Ramsden, which commonly agreed with the other within a minute."
(From an appendix to the journal entitled Account of the Astronomical Observations and Time-Keepers, by Mr. Lyons.")
So while it may not be an exact replica of any particular piece, I'm able to conclude that sextants with the same features as mine may have been highly desired by readers of the 1767 Almanac, and that a sextant of similar size and material to mine (my own is only about four inches in radius) was in use in 1773. With this information, I can show the guests a decent representation of a navigational instrument that could have been available to navigators of the late 18th century, and they boggle at how accurate these instruments could prove. (Earlier this month, I calculated the south gate of CW's Capitol Building to within 2.4 nautical miles using my sextant and chronometer.) As a visual curiosity, the sextant has drawn attention of guests from all ages from children interested in tools and science of the time to a World War II veteran (likely my most rewarding interpretive moment to date) who used a sextant while serving as a navigator aboard a B-17.
Keep in mind friends, I'm only at the tip of the iceberg when it comes to octants, sextants, and other navigational instruments of the 18th century. I know full well there is a lot more to learn on the subject, and I look forward to the experience.
