Characteristics of a British Sailor
Posted By Sarah on August 20, 2011
Ekk is away at the Lake Champlain Maritime Museum‘s Colonial Trades & Crafts Fair this weekend. Due to another obligation, I unfortunately can’t attend. I’ve got some spare time today to put together another post while I wait for Ekk to return with his camera and tell me all about it.
In the mean time, I’ve spent a lot of time scouring old newspaper archives for primary source bits of maritime humor or anecdotes of daily life at sea. This is especially useful for the quiet parts of the year when we’re not doing much due to winter. (I apologize for the long hiatus last winter; too much other stuff was going on.)
Ekk handsewing a sail, 2008.
Most of the bits I find are fairly short, but every once in a while there’s a longer one that’s worth saving to reprint:
Characteristics of a British Sailor, exhibited in Daniel Bryan, an. old Seaman, now in Greenwich Hospital.
Some of the last services of this aged veteran, were performed with Sir Sydney Smith, against the French in Egypt; when at Acre, old Dan was captain of the fore-top, who had been turned over from the Blanche into Sir Sydney Smith’s ship Le Tigre. During the siege of Acre, this hardy veteran made repeated applications to be employed on shore; but, being an elderly man, and rather deaf, his request was not acceded to. At the first storming of the breach by the French, among the multitude of slain, fell one of the generals of that nation. The Turks, in triumph, struck off the head of this unfortunate officer, and after inhumanly mangling the body with their sabres, left it, naked, a prey to the dogs. Precluded from the rites of sepulture, it in a few days became putrescent; a shocking spectacle! a dreadful memento of the horrors of war, the fragility of human nature, and- the vanity of all sublunary ambition, hopes, and expectations. Thus exposed, when any of the sailors who had been on shore returned to the ship, inquiries were instantly made respecting the state of the deceased general. Dan frequently asked his messmates, why they had not buried him?— But the only reply was, “Go and do it yourself.” Dan swore he would; observing, that he had himself been taken prisoner by the French, who always gave their enemies a decent burial, not like those Turks, leaving them to rot above-board. In the morning, having at length obtained leave to go and see the town, he dressed himself as though for an excursion of pleasure, and went ashore with the surgeon in the jolly-boat. About an hour or two after, while the surgeon was dressing the wounded Turks in the hospital, in came honest Dan, who, in his rough, good-natured manner, exclaimed, “I have been burying the general, Sir, and now I am come to see the sick!” Not particularly attending to the tar’s salute, but fearful of his catching the plague, the surgeon immediately ordered him out. Returning on board, the coxswain enquired of the surgeon if he had seen old Dan?” “Yes, he has been burying the French general.” It was then that Dan’s words in the hospital first occurred. The boat’s crew who witnessed the generous action, an action truly worthy of a British sailor, in whose character are ever blended the nobler and milder virtues, thus related its circumstances:
The old man procured a pick-axe, a shovel, and a rope, and insisted on being let down out of a port-hole, close to the breach. Some of his more juvenile companions offered to attend him: “No;” he replied, “you are too young to be shot yet; as for me, I am old and deaf, and my loss would be no great matter.” Persisting in his adventure, in the midst of the firing, Dan was slung and lowered down with his implements of action on his shoulder.—His first difficulty, not a very trivial one, was to drive away the dogs.—The French now levelled their pieces—they were on the instant of firing at the hero!— It was an interesting moment! but an officer perceiving the friendly intentions of the sailor, was seen to throw himself across the file. Instantaneously the din of arms, the military thunder coasted; a dead, a solemn silence prevailed, and the worthy fellow consigned the corpse to its parent earth.—He covered it with mould and stones, placing a large stone at its head, and another, at its feet.—But Dan’s task was not yet completed.—The unostentatious grave was formed, but no inscription recorded the fate or character of its possessor.—Dan, with the peculiar air of a British sailor, took a piece of chalk from his pocket, and attempted to write,—“Here you lie, old Crop!” He was then with his pick-axe and shovel hoisted into the town, and the hostile firing immediately recommenced.
A few days afterwards, Sir Sidney, having been informed of the circumstance, ordered Dan to be called into the cabin. “Well, Dan, I hear you have buried the French general?” “Yes, your honour.” “Had you any body with you?” “Yes, your honour.” “Why, Mr. — says you had not ?” “But I had, your honour; God Almighty was with me.” “A very good assistant, indeed:—give old Dan a glass of grog.” “Thank your honour!” Dan drank his grog, and left the cabin highly gratified. He is now, as we observed before, laid up (as a seaman might say) in Greenwich tier; there to reap the benefit of his long and faithful services.
- From R. S. Kirby’s 1803 Kirby’s wonderful and scientific museum: or, Magazine of Remarkable Characters. Volume 1.
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Jack Tar at his best! Well played, Dan!