I is the custom of some writers concerning mediæval ships to deplore the existing information as being too scanty to afford us any adequate idea as to vessels that sailed the seas during the first half of the middle age. For myself I think that such a statement cannot be maintained.
The evidence on which we are able to construct afresh in our minds the ships of this period, is scarcely as slender as has been supposed, though not unnaturally we must make allowances for obvious inaccuracies, for exaggerations, and for ignorance. But, even when we have done this we shall find the sources of information far from shallow. I have used as the basis for this chapter, the evidence of mediæval seals, both English and Continental: England, Scotland, France, Spain and Flanders all affording interesting details of ships by this means. I have gone carefully through old coins, and though representations of ships thereon depicted have necessarily had to suffer through the limitations imposed on the artist by the size and shape of the coin, yet this evidence used collaterally with the rest, goes a long way towards completing the picture we are endeavouring to paint.
During the eleventh century, certain merchants from Bari on the Adriatic made an expedition to Lycia and brought back the remains of St. Nicholas, Archbishop of Myra, who had lived and suffered persecution in the fourth century under Diocletian. Thence grew up a wide-spread cult of this saint. Not only did he become patron saint of Russia, but of all sailormen throughout Christendom. In ancient pictures we sometimes see a ship caught in a terrible storm with sails and gear carried away, Boreas or his colleague, raising his head above the waters, blowing with inflated cheeks at the helpless ship, while above the picture, St. Nicholas appearing in the clouds, comes to the aid of the skipper seen praying on the poop for deliverance from the horrible seas. In England this cult was not wanting either. There are between three and four hundred churches in our land dedicated in St. Nicholas’ honour, and the reader as he journeys along the coast, will frequently find that in an old seaport the parish church bears this dedication. We need not go too far into this matter, but the famous parish church of that very ancient seaport of Great Yarmouth (whose seamen used to have goodly quarrels with the men of the Cinque Ports, and who, long prior to the coming of William the Conqueror, were busy with the herring fishery), and also of Brighton, are notable instances of this devotion to the sailor’s saint. The font of the Brighton church and of Winchester Cathedral—although the design in each case is conventionalised—cannot fail to assist us. The date of the former belongs to somewhere between the years 1050 and 1075: as to the latter, Dean Furneaux informs me that the date is about 1180.
Mediæval manuscripts both English and foreign have happily preserved to us not merely actual facts, but exquisitely coloured illustrations of ships. We see the vessels in every conceivable way—in course of construction, ashore, afloat, with sails spread, with sails stowed. We see them on rivers and seas, embarking and disembarking. We see them in peace and in war, bound for the Crusades, or ramming each other, grappling, hurling darts and arrows from their elevated fore-castles and stern-castles, or casting destruction down on to one another’s decks from the fighting top above.
We have, too, some slight evidence in contemporary stained glass, which by reason of the demands of an exceptionally conventionalised art must be regarded with caution and only to confirm other evidence. We have the clear and valuable evidence of certain mosaics in St. Mark’s Venice, which help us more than a little with regard to the fourteenth century, and, few though they be as we remarked in Chapter I., there are some artists whose pictures of ships in mediæval times can be relied upon, after making certain allowances already indicated. In this class we may include especially Carpaccio, Giorgione and Memling. The more artistic the mode of expressing these ships becomes, however, so much the more prone to inaccuracy does the evidence incline, and to this category belong the tapestries, models in precious metals, paintings on china and earthenware and tiles. In most cases the distortion of truth has been in respect of length, breadth, and height.
When we remember how thoroughly the Vikings harassed the shores of France and England sailing up the Seine and the rivers and creeks of our own land, committing piracy on the sea and pillage ashore, and finally settling down and conquering the territory, it is not to be wondered that their sway in naval architecture and construction should have been universal in northern Europe. We have in the previous chapter already dealt with the primitive craft of early Britain, and it is generally supposed that the ships which were sent from this country to assist the Veneti against Cæsar had by this time become wooden and not skin-ships. With the Roman invasion of Britain would come the introduction of Roman craft, and there can be little doubt that the Deal “galley” of to-day, which is the characteristic ship of that part of England which was so frequently the landing-place for visitors from Gaul, is a relic, much modified, from the Roman times. After the withdrawal of the Roman influence from these shores, the Saxons and Angles coming in their double-ended Viking craft quickly banished almost all the customs that the Britons had learned under the Romans. And having effected this complete transformation the Saxons settled down and practically forsook the sea and shipbuilding.
But now from the year 787 until the coming of William the Conqueror our forefathers were constantly being invaded by the Northmen in the kind of ships that we discussed in the last chapter. But before the end of the ninth century Alfred succeeded to the throne after the country had been ravaged and despoiled by these raiders along the north-east coast as far west as Southampton Water. Acting on that blessed maxim which alone preserves our country to-day, that he who would be secure on land must first be supreme on sea, he set himself the task of improving on the Viking ships. This he carried out by making his longships—so the Saxon Chronicles inform us—twice as long as the Danish, and swifter, steadier and with more freeboard than any war vessels that had hitherto been seen in England. Nor did he neglect such important details as the seasoning of the timber. But to show how utterly lacking his subjects were in all knowledge of seamanship, his oarsmen—some of his ships carrying as many as sixty—were all hired pirates from the seafaring district of Friesland. Still, for all that, he succeeded in his object and defeated the cruel foe.
Hakluyt quotes from one Octher, who voyaging to “the Northeast parts beyond Norway reported by himselfe unto Alfred the famous king of England, about the yere 890” that he “tooke his voyage directly North along the coast, having upon his steereboard alwayes the desert land and upon the leereboard the maine Ocean: and continued his course for the space of 3 dayes. In which space he was come as far towards the North, as commonly the whale hunters use to travell.”... “The principall purpose of his traveile this way, was to encrease the knowledge and discoverie of these coasts and countreyes, for the more commoditie of fishing of horse-whales, which have in their teeth bones of great price and excellencie: whereof he brought some at his returne unto the king. Their skinnes are also very good to make cables for shippes, and so used.” We see, therefore, that if the Saxons had sunk in maritime pursuits this Octher from “Helgoland” was one of a class in the northernmost parts of Europe that was wont to sail far across the seas. From the same traveller we learn that it was evidently at this time the custom for a ship on a passage and not making port before to “lay still by the night.”
Edgar, too, who reigned from 959 to 975, took a keen interest in his navy. In fact, I would much rather call him the first of our yachtsmen than bestow the title on Charles II. as is customary. For “this peaceable king Edgar,” says Hakluyt, “(as by ancient Recordes may appeare) his Sommer progresses and yerely chiefe pastimes were, the sailing round about this whole Isle of Albion, garded with his grand navie of 4000 saile at the least, parted into 4 equall parts of petie Navies, eche one being of 1000 ships, for so it is anciently recorded.” From the same source we learn that the number was 4800, although it has been also estimated at 3600. One thousand two hundred were kept on the east coast (“in plaga Angliæ Orientali”), and similar numbers to the west, the south and the north respectively, for the defence of his kingdom. Under Edgar’s rule every three “hundreds” (probably only of those along the coast-line), were compelled to furnish a ship. Nor must we suppose that the mercantile marine was entirely at a standstill, for there is frequent mention of the English fleets after the time of Athelstan, and whilst the men of Kent were busily engaged in the herring fishery, trade was regularly being carried on with France and Flanders. Under the reign of Edward the Confessor the merchant navy grew very greatly.
The Anglo-Saxon ships of the eleventh century were less of the Gogstad or skuta type, than of that bigger class to which the “Long Serpent” or snekja belongs. We do know from a certain Scandinavian Edda what the Viking ships of about the year 1000 were like in dimensions. We learn that the “Long Serpent” was 117 feet long, and carried as many as 600 men aboard. She was decked after the manner described in the last chapter, and had the five cabins already mentioned. As in the Mediterranean the ships of burthen developed from the ships of war, so in the Anglo-Saxon times the merchantman differed from the battleship only in being more beamy, and consequently not quite so fast as the longships.
As to the Scandinavians, they did not confine their activities to fighting. Their fleets voyaged as far away as the Levant in the south and Iceland in the north, and further still to Greenland. It is from the colony of Iceland that they are said to have sailed across to the New England States in North America. As to their sails at this period, there is a Scandinavian coin of the ninth century of our era[45] which shows that the usual lines of a Viking ship were continued, with high poop and bow. The mast is shown supported by three backstays and one forestay, whilst pavisses of shields hang round as in the Gogstad ship. The sail is particularly interesting, as it much resembles that of the Mediterranean boats found on the Althiburus mosaics, the surface giving the appearance of net-work. This is no doubt the joining of the stripes of coloured material plus the rows of reef-points. In addition to the different classes of ships enunciated in the previous chapter, there were also during Anglo-Saxon times vessels called “ceols.” These came from Saxony, and it is not without interest to remark that the same word “keel” is still given to those somewhat beamy ships, carrying one huge Viking-like square sail, that to-day are seen navigating the canal that connects South Yorkshire with the same river Humber up which the Saxons sailed.
We come now to the year 1066, when William setting forth from St. Valery-sur-Somme on the evening of September 27, with a fair wind, disembarked before midday on the following morning. Before starting there was trouble with the reluctant crews, and even when lying at anchor off St. Valery several ships foundered. Happily details of William’s ships are preserved to us by the Bayeux tapestry, which is supposed to have been worked by his consort, Queen Matilda. From certain variations between this interesting, painstaking work and contemporary records we know that it is not absolutely correct. Nor, indeed, should we have expected otherwise from the work of imaginative ladies unlearned in maritime matters. But having made due allowance for that, the Bayeux tapestry taken in conjunction with the other evidence is most valuable. The photographs which are here reproduced have been taken from the copy of this tapestry in the South Kensington Museum.
In Fig. 32 we see the striped ships of Harold. To the left of the picture the ship is being “quanted” off from the shore in the manner we saw adopted by the Greeks. Two men are wading out to her; while on board one of the crew, having just got the anchor up, is keeping a look-out. Three others are ready to row as soon as in deep water, while another sailor is stepping the mast. The ship next to her has a backstay and forestay as well as shrouds. Behind her she tows a small rowing boat for going ashore. Some excitement appears to be going on aboard her judging by the man forward of the mast who is shouting to the helmsman—possibly informing him that they are getting into shoal-water, for the man in the bows is seen to be sounding with a pole. Notice that a part of the crew has collected aft, the sheets having been eased. In the next ship it is clearly shown that these sailors have come to the stern in order to put their weight on to the shrouds so that the mast may be lowered away gently. The sail and mast will be seen to be partially lowered, a look-out man being still up the latter, and the man forward is about to drop the anchor overboard. The ships, as we have already seen was the Viking custom, are striped as to their hulls. The present writer has seen a modern Scandinavian boat of this type though smaller with stripes of black and yellow. The pavisses are seen in both ships, being apparently coloured alternately. The sail, too, is striped in accordance with the prevailing custom. The shield-like forms hanging down over the stern outside may probably be the North European equivalent of the aphlaston as a protection against ramming. The decoration of a dragon’s head on stem and stern will be easily seen.
In Fig. 33 we see another ship of this kind, with rudder still affixed to the starboard, and tiller. We see also that William’s men, having been commanded to build ships specially for the purpose of sailing across the Channel, are felling trees. They are seen to be stripping off the bark and planing the wood, whilst other shipwrights are engaged in putting the craft together. Very interesting is the mode of launching shown here. A line attached to the bows is taken through a ring on a stake, and five men haul away on that. Excepting that nowadays the ship would also be put upon a cradle and a capstan or tackle would be used, the same method is used for hauling ashore. Finally, in the same picture also we see the weapons and armour and wine being carried down to the ships (see Fig. 34). It is an historical fact that this wine played no small part in urging the unwilling men to embark on this expedition.
Touching the size of the Norman ships, they did not exceed thirty tons burthen, and as we have seen from the above illustration they were put together on the beach. We have seen, too, that the mast was lowered forward, not aft, and with the sail and yard fixed to the mast. This practice is confirmed by an illustration shown in an old manuscript, in which the sailors have gone aft for the purpose of either raising or lowering the mast. Hanging on to the stays they are even standing right out on the top of the stern-post. The yard is clearly seen from these illustrations to have been kept fixed to the mast and not lowered separately, so that to furl the sail when the mast was not taken down the sailors climbed the rigging and tied the sail to the yard. In the Brighton—or as this old fishing village was then called, Brighthelmston—font this is shown quite clearly, as also is a figure holding a tiller, which is correctly shown to be on the starboard side. The high bows and stern are typical of the Viking type, while the construction appears to be clinker. As we shall see from seals and other illustrations while we go down through time this may be regarded as the characteristic ship of Northern Europe until the end of the fifteenth century, although the tendency was gradually to get away from the “longship” idea and to develop into a crescent form. In the Winchester font which is about a hundred years later than the Brighton one, this newer shape is most noticeable. Both fonts refer to a scene in the life of St. Nicholas.
At the masthead of the ships of this period, the chief ship of the fleet carried a vane or flag. The Bayeux tapestry also shows the Mora, William’s flagship. The truck is surmounted by a cross, and there appears to be a lantern immediately below of somewhat similar appearance to that on the Bœotian ship in Fig. 11. We do not know to what exact knowledge of seamanship the crews of William the Conqueror had attained,[46] but they would, at least some of them, have crossed many times between the two countries before in connection with trade, and they would have been able to acquire by experience and observation, the necessary knowledge of the strong channel tides which, although the coast-line between Pevensey to the eastward has altered since the eleventh century, probably were not much different from what they are to-day. They would have an excellent mark in Beachy Head whereby to make a good land-fall, and a sandy beach further to the eastward on which to disembark in the bay, nicely sheltered from westerly winds. William, having once landed in this country and vanquished Harold, did not neglect the care of the navy. By 1071, or roughly the date when the font was being placed in Brighton church just a few miles to the westward, there was a fleet in being. Trade, too, between France and England would now be even less fettered than before, and this would naturally make for an increase in the merchant shipping. Nevertheless the crews of William’s fleet would be more Norman than English. Nor was shipbuilding neglected in other parts of Great Britain, for Hakluyt gives a chronicle of the Kings of Man, in which we find that Godredus Crovan, who gathered together a fleet of ships and sailed to the Isle of Man, vanquished its people, and subdued Dublin, and “so tamed the Scots that none of them durst build a ship or a boate with above three yron nailes in it.”
Under Henry I. the maritime industry prospered much, and the king collected a squadron of great size. Up to this time it had been the custom that any cargo cast ashore from a wreck became ipso facto the property of the king. But Henry caused a law to be put into force that should any one escape from a wreck alive, the ship should not be treated as lost, and her contents should not have ceased to belong to her owner. In this reign too, we learn of La Blanche Nef, a fifty-oared vessel that had as many as three hundred souls on board when she foundered on the rocks off the race of Catteville in the year 1120.
Portsmouth, even as early as this period, was springing into importance as a naval port, and under Henry II.’s reign, London and Bristol, which in after years were to come into such prominence and to witness so many fine expeditions setting forth to explore all parts of the unknown world, now became the two chief ports of England. Ships were gradually getting bigger and bigger, until we read of one in the year 1170 carrying as many as 400 people. Henry II. contributed his share in encouraging the progress of shipping by good naval legislature, for it was he who enacted that no one should buy or sell any ship that was to be carried away from England.
In the next reign we reach an important stage in the history of sailing ships. Richard I. had set his mind on undertaking a Crusade to the Holy Land, and this expedition had lasting effects on the design of the ships that subsequently were built. Instead of coasting to Ireland or France or the Orkneys, or even to Norway, England now sends her first expedition across the Bay of Biscay to the South, the beginning of that wonderful series of great voyages of the English nation which in Elizabethan times made our country so famous through her enterprising mariners. I have already referred in our first chapter to the influence that was effected by the opportunity afforded to English sailor-folk of seeing the ships of the Mediterranean. The ships of this Sea had developed on two separate lines. There was first the galley type, which had remained wonderfully similar to the galley of Greek and Roman times. She was essentially a rowed vessel, having sails as auxiliaries. In after times all sorts of adaptations resulted from this, which we shall see as we proceed through the Elizabethan period. The root of the word “galley” is found in the various craft designated “galleass,” “galliot,” and “galleon,” but it was the first of these three that represented the rowed ship in her largest dimensions. The other two were sailing ships, although preserving some similarity in name.
The second class of Mediterranean craft consisted of a rounder, broader type of vessel—the descendant of the classic merchant vessel as distinct from the “longship.” This in fact has been the general division in the history of sailing ships through all times. Under this heading will come the various classes of Mediterranean sailing ships—not galleys—designated respectively “caracks,” “great ships,” “busses” or “buccas,” “caravels,” “barks,” and “dromons.” If we keep these two classes distinct in our minds—“galleys” and “ships”—we shall not get far wrong during the ensuing centuries. Sailors in all ages have always had an unfortunate habit of mixing the various classifications of vessels, and we shall see as we proceed to what inconvenience this has attained.
In the records of the Crusades we find mention made of the larger and second class of the Mediterranean ships of sail. Near to Beirut the English espied in the distance a great ship with three tapering masts, strongly built, painted green and yellow, with 1500 men aboard. On being hailed she pretended at first to belong to Richard’s colleague in the Crusade, the King of France, whose flag indeed she was flying, but she was soon discovered to be a Saracen ship, and after some difficulty was rammed and sunk by the English Viking-shaped and smaller vessels. In Hakluyt’s account of this ship she is described as a “carack.” She was probably not very much different from the caravel shown in Fig. 43. The three tapering masts which astounded the Englishmen in their one-masted Viking ships and the tall sides of the carack which gave Richard’s men so much difficulty in assault from their comparatively small vessels of low freeboard, would not fail to bring forth changes in English shipbuilding as soon as internal and external peace was assured and sufficient technical skill had been acquired. This big ship or carack class—call it what you will—marks a determined stand in naval architecture to build real ships as distinct from big boats. From her evolved the vessels that sailed across the Atlantic with Columbus, that carried Elizabethan explorers to all points of the compass, that fought the Armada and the Dutch, and became adapted in time to such wooden walls as the Victory and others, and which are not radically dissimilar from the modern full-rigged ships, though made of iron instead of wood, with steel rigging and a much larger spread of canvas.
Although the carack class was not rare in the Mediterranean in the twelfth century, it was some time in making itself felt in English naval architecture. We must needs wait for another three centuries. But what seem to have had an almost immediate effect were the castles on the Mediterranean galleys at bow and stern. These may have come into use in England during the remaining years of Richard’s or during John’s reign. I have seen no illustration of either of these reigns which shows these castellated constructions; but in the reign of Henry III. in the seal of Sandwich this structure is shown in the bows, at the stern and at the top of the mast. And we can be quite sure that unless it were a prevailing type it would not have figured in the port’s official seal. Fashions moved but slowly in those days, so that it is not unreasonable to suppose that these castellated structures had been in use for some years prior to the date of the seal—the year 1238. At the same time the seal of the City of Paris, which represents the first seal of its “Merchants of the Water,” belonging to the year 1210, shows the Viking shape pure and simple—without any germ of the castle—as were the ships of this type which accompanied the rest of Richard’s fleet to the South. The high stem- and stern-post, the clinker-build, the three stays forward to support the mast, and three aft, seen in the seal, show how determinedly the Viking type had overrun the north coast of France. But there is nothing surprising in the French not having adopted the fighting castles by this date.
Richard having despatched his navy by the “Spanish seas” to meet him at Marseilles, himself travelled overland, and having waited eight days in vain at Marseilles, “for his Navie which came not he there hired 20 Gallies, and ten great barkes to ship over his men, and so came to Naples” and eventually to Messina in Sicily, where to his great joy he found his fleet had arrived. After the departure of the French King from Messina, Richard followed “with 150 great ships and 53 great gallies well manned and appointed.” They were caught in a strong southerly gale, but only two of his fleet appear to have foundered. Later on, in the account included in Hakluyt, we find that the whole fleet that was gathered at the port of Lymszem consisted of “254 tall shippes, and above threescore galliots.”
Fig. 35 represents a Mediterranean warship of the thirteenth century and well shows how far ahead the Southerners still were of the North Europeans. Notice especially the sterncastle and forecastle. The former is open at the sides and differs not very much from the sterncastle in the clay model shown in Fig. 17. In the forecastle of the thirteenth-century ship before us will be seen a warrior standing ready to hurl down spears at the galleys over which his ship towered so high. The large cage-like fighting-top is used as well for steadying the unwieldy yard of the mainsail as for purely war-like purposes. The rope ladders are also seen, and the rig consists of a large squaresail on the main with a lateen on the mizzen. The latter, having been for many hundreds of years seen up and down the Mediterranean, would but naturally find its way into the rig when a second mast was added. It would be very acceptable as being far handier than the big squaresail and capable of being easily stowed in a breeze. When her commander was endeavouring to sail a tubby old craft like this as close to the wind as she could get, the help of the lateen mizzen by sending her head up into the wind would counteract the tendency to fall off from the breeze. I attach considerable importance to this illustration as it is the earliest picture I know of giving us anything of a satisfactory idea of the kind of ships, other than the galley class, that sailed the Mediterranean during about the time of Richard’s crusade. Perhaps this is one of those “great ships” already alluded to. At any rate she belongs to the sailing ship days. The method of stowing her anchor is clearly shown. Very interesting, too, is the manner of bending the sails to the yard. No lacing of any kind seems to be employed, but strips of the sail appear to pass round the yard and then meet the cloth again on the other side.
This is a Venetian ship, and when we consider that at this time Venice was the foremost maritime power in the world, it is not surprising that her vessels subsequently influenced Spain and thence Northern Europe to a wonderful extent, as soon as the latter nations had begun to discard the Viking type which had so long been the model of their shipbuild. This illustration is from the work of one of Giotto’s pupils.
As to the other ships which Richard had with him besides the Viking type, there were the Mediterranean galleys, somewhat similar to those shown in Figs. 57 and 58. A “dromon” or “dromond” is also mentioned, but this word was used very loosely, as for instance the word “barge” and other examples already given in our own times. Sometimes “dromon” referred to a vessel of large tonnage, but the reader will see in Fig. 36 a much smaller ship bearing the same appellation. This mosaic is taken from the ceiling in St. Mark’s, Venice, and belongs to the year 1359. The incident depicted is that of bringing St. Mark to Alexandria from Egiddo. The rig is lateen and the rake of the mast is about the same as seen in the modern dhow-rigged yacht shown in Fig. 101. In the dromon St. Mark is at the stern sheltered from the following sea by a bulwark that would seem to have been super-added to the hull. Notice, too, that by this time a rudder has been fixed to the ship at the extreme stern, and that it appears to be worked by means of a rope leading in through a hole in the gunwale. Of the crew of two one is holding on to the vang, which comes down from the peak of the sail, a relic, no doubt, of the brace of the squaresail, while the man forward has just hoisted up the sail. Nowadays, that part of the mast seen to project beyond the sail would be cut off in a dhow-rigged vessel, the yard coming flush with the truck of the mast.
There was also in the fleet of Mediterranean craft which joined Richard, a ship of the class called a buss, bucca, or buzzo. This was a Venetian type of merchant ship, bluff-bowed and highly useful as a transport. Levi[47] derives the name, not from the Italian word meaning “stomach,” although she has a hold capable of stowing away much cargo, but from buco meaning a hole or small, dark room, into which the cargo was thrown. The various kinds of galleys are spoken of under the names of gallion, galliot, galleass—though in course of time a different and distinctive meaning has been assigned to each of these words—and the visser was a shallow transport perhaps not differing much from the hippago of the Althiburus mosaic. A “barge” was probably more like one of those tar-covered “coasters” that one sees loading in every port—in hull, that is, but with a square-sail and of course no triangular headsails.[48] Of the Viking class Richard had with him some of the esneccas or “Long Serpent” type as well as some “Cogs.” The latter class was also of Scandinavian origin and probably somewhat bigger than the skuta type. Hakluyt includes a letter sent from our King Henry III. to Haquinus, King of Norway, granting permission to Norwegian merchants to come and go freely into English ports. “Wee will and command all bailifes of Portes,” reads the mandate, “at which the Cog of Norway (wherein certaine of the king of Norwaie his souldiers, and certain Merchants of Saxonie are coming for England) shall touch, that when the fore-said Cog shall chance to arrive at any of their Havens, they doe permit the said Cog safely to remain in their said Havens, &c.” Perhaps she was a new type of Viking ship and, like the “Long Serpent,” gave her name to the class of ships built after her model.
On a MS. in the possession of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, we see a couple of galleys ramming each other with the spur some distance above the waterline. The largest of Richard’s galleys in the Mediterranean had thirty oars, and the Viking type of steering paddle was still used, since the rudder affixed to the farthest end of the stern had not yet been introduced into ships of North Europe. Masts and sails were carried as usual. The larger ships of Richard’s fleet that we have mentioned also carried engines for projecting darts as well as terrible explosives. The banner under which they fought at this time was that of St. George. As to the equipment of this first great English fleet the chief vessels had each three spare steering paddles, thirteen anchors, thirty oars, two sails, three sets of all kinds of ropes, and duplicates of all gear except the mast and boat. There are not wanting plenty of references to the esnecca or “Serpent” class. Thus there is a record of payment “to the men of the esnecca” (Pipe Roll, 5 Henry II., p. 45. Pipe Roll Socy.); “paid out to me of the snecca for the Queen’s passage and that of Henry FitzGerald with the treasure and of Nicholas de Sigillo £30 : 10” (Pipe Roll, 6 Henry III., p. 47); “to the sailors of the snecca twenty shillings by the king’s writ” (Pipe Roll, 8 Henry II., p. 35). The ship that was reserved for carrying royalty across from England to France was always at this period called the “esnecca.”
The resulting effects on England of this crusade were not confined to her naval architecture. Although it was not the first time that a North European or even an Englishman had sailed in the Mediterranean, it was the first instance of a naval expedition on a large scale setting forth from these shores to the Levant. It gave our sailors in a smaller way just that experience which the recent world-cruise of the fleet of the United States from the Atlantic to the Pacific and back again has obtained for American sailormen. It made deep-sea sailors of the men who had only been coasters, and showed them in what directions their ships could be improved upon. But its effect on the trade of England was to expand it, to create new sources of imports and fresh outlets for her exports. England owes a great debt to Richard I., besides, for his attention to maritime legislature. Hakluyt gives a list of the laws the king ordained for his navy during this expedition, as, for instance, that any one who killed another on board ship should be tied to the dead man and thrown overboard: and that if he killed him on land he should in like manner be tied “with the partie slaine, and be buried with him in the earth.” It was from the Levant that Richard brought a roll of laws regulating maritime affairs, and which, being held in high honour on the Southern sea, he ordered to be observed in English waters. Very drastic were these laws of Oleron, framed for the benefit of the merchant service. Thus if a pilot from ignorance or otherwise lost the ship entrusted to his navigation and the merchants thereby sustained damage, the pilot was to make full satisfaction if he had means, and if he lacked these he was to forfeit his head. It is interesting to note the care that was taken to prevent ships fouling each other’s anchors, for it was enacted that all anchors were to be indicated by buoys. But no modern sailor will read without a smile the regulation that if a vessel were wind or weather-bound, the master, when a change in the conditions had occurred, was to consult his crew, saying to them, “Gentlemen, what think you of this wind?” and to be guided as to whether he should put to sea by the opinion of the majority. It is not difficult to imagine what the verdict of such a consultation would be to-day on a big barque, for instance, after the men have returned from their carouse ashore, if the law were still in force. The “gentlemen’s” opinion of the wind would be something unprintable.
During the reign of John, ships reached a size as big as eighty tons. Hakluyt contains a reference to the time when Louis invaded England to aid Archbishop Langton. “Hubert of Borough (then captaine of Dover) following the opinion of Themistocles in the exposition of the oracle of the woodden walls, by the aide of the [Cinque] Port townes, armed fortie tall ships, and meeting with eightie saile of French men upon the high seas, gave them a most couragious encounter, in which he tooke some, sunke others, and discomfitted the rest.” Under John the English navy was considerably improved, and this was the first of our sovereigns to retain seamen with permanent pay. Instead of being alternately pirates, fishermen and fighting men of the state, the sailor became endowed with a higher status. The privileges first granted to the Cinque Ports by Edward the Confessor, William the Conqueror and their successors, did much to assist the progress of the sailing ship; but in addition to the ships supplied to him by these south coast ports, John had also ships of his own. This reign is notable, too, as the first instance of our country claiming to be “The Sovereign of the Seas.”
Nor under Henry III. was this progression in maritime matters arrested. Every year the size of ships was becoming greater. Thanks to the Mediterranean influence they were getting away from the Viking type to a more protected and seaworthy kind. Decks and cabins and more than one mast were introduced, and in 1228 a vessel that was sent to Gascony with the king’s effects had expended on her a certain sum of money “for making a chamber in the said ship to place the king’s things in.” In 1242 there is a direction for the cabins of the king and queen to be wainscotted. The seal of Sandwich, one of the Cinque Ports, of the date of 1238, shows the customary Viking hull, as usual, clinker-built. But some notable additions have been made. Both in the bows and stern a raised structure has been added to enable the men to hurl the same destruction from a height that they had seen the Mediterraneans operate during the Crusade. The space underneath the stern-castle was used as a kind of roofed deck-house or cabin, but open at the sides, and we see one of the barons of Sandwich sitting in a dignified manner under this shelter, while a couple of the crew are aloft on the yard, evidently about to unfurl the sail. At the top of the mast has been placed a fighting-top. A very thick forestay, two backstays, and four shrouds are shown, but possibly the two halyards did duty also as backstays. A small rowing boat is seen carried on board, as well as two more crew.
Fig. 37 has been sketched from the seal of Winchelsea in the British Museum. For detail of information it is pre-eminent: the date is the end of the thirteenth century. The reader, after making allowances for the limitations of space and shape imposed on the artist, will at once remark the similarity of the lines, especially at bow and stern, between this and the Gogstad ship. The stem- and stern-post are depicted very high. Forward is seen the forecastle taking its Gothic curves from the architecture on shore. Above, floats a flag. Below the stern-castle sits the baron or commander protected by the roof and arches, whilst over him two trumpeters are pealing forth. We have seen this trumpeting at the stern also depicted in the ancient Mediterranean ship coming into harbour (Fig. 22), and the practice was evidently still a common one in the middle ages when entering or leaving port so as to give due warning to approaching vessels. Hakluyt contains a reference to Richard when he had wearied of waiting at Marseilles and had sailed to Messina. “After that he had heard that his ships were arrived at Messana in Sicilie, he made the more speed and so the 23. of September entred Messana with such a noyse of Trumpets and Shalmes, with such a rout and shew, that it was to the great wonderment and terror both of the Frenchmen, and of all other that did heare and behold the sight.”
The rigging, the sail furled to the yard, and the two braces are so clearly shown as to need no comment. But two other points are of considerable interest to us. Firstly, notice that the rudder, on the starboard side, is almost identical with that of the Gogstad ship. From the hull projects a bracket to support the rudder, while above, the tiller or clavus fits in at right angles and comes inboard to the helmsman. Secondly, notice that the two men forward are getting up the anchor and that the cable leads aft to a winch—probably a great wooden drum like that found on the Dutch schuyts of to-day—for the two men in the stern are clearly shown working away with their handspikes, which would fit into the windlass drum in the manner the reader will notice any day he likes to take a stroll and look at the Dutch craft lying off Billingsgate. In a few moments the ship will be under way, for one of the crew has been sent aloft to unfurl the sail. The fighting-top is not shown on this seal, but that is possibly accounted for by the fact that the artist was cramped for space. Winchelsea, or as Hakluyt speaks of it, “Frigmare Ventus”—and not inaptly so-called, as those who have been caught in the nasty chilly squalls off this ancient shore will agree—was one of the original five Cinque Ports before the others were added, and in the time of Edward I. had to provide ten ships, though during the reign of the third Edward this was increased to twenty-one with five hundred and ninety-six mariners.
Fig. 38 has been drawn from the seal of Hastings in the British Museum. The date is the thirteenth century, and although no forecastle is shown, the erection in the stern scarcely requires any further comment. The high stem and stern are seen again, and what is of considerable interest, the three rows of reef-points. This seal depicts an incident in one of the many engagements that took place about this time along the coast between Beachy Head and the North Foreland. Both ships, it will be noticed, are sailing, and one has rammed his enemy and cut his ship down to the water. An unfortunate warrior is seen swimming in the foreground of the picture. On the banners at bow and stern of the victorious ship are shown the arms of the Cinque Ports. All three warriors are seen clad in mail.
The seal of Dover, another of the Cinque Ports, of the date of 1284, bears out the general characteristics we have been discussing. The castles at bow, stern and top of mast: the trumpeters—this time at the bows: the two men getting in the cable: the one man going aloft to unfurl the sail—these details are all depicted. Both Dover and Sandwich seals contain a bowsprit after the manner of that seen in the Roman merchant ship moored alongside the quay in Fig. 21. It is therefore probable that a small square sail was used occasionally at this time for tilting the ship’s head off the wind.
The model by Mr. Frank H. Mason, R.B.A., reproduced in Fig. 39, was in the Franco-British Exhibition and is now in the South Kensington Museum. It may perhaps assist the reader to obtain a more living picture of the ships of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. The castles will be at once recognised. Frequently the sail was decorated as shown. The detachable “bonnet,” still used by the sailors of Scandinavia and Norfolk, can just be seen below the decoration. The steering oar, or rudder, is attached to the starboard side, but the reader can just see the handle coming up. The massive wooden fenders were both to strengthen the ship and for a protection when going alongside an enemy. Since so frequently the same ship that was used for fishing or trading was also employed as a battleship or even pirate, the unwieldy, top-heavy castles were made so as to allow of them being removed in times of peace. The ship before us probably represents one of the larger, esnecca type, and the snake’s head coming inboard from the stern-post is very noticeable.
From the masthead of the commander-in-chief’s ship by day flew a banner, and by night a lantern hung in order to direct the sailing of the fleet. The officers of the Cinque Ports were ordered to cut adrift the banner of a hostile commander in an engagement, so that the whole of the enemy’s fleet might be thrown into confusion. Before the close of Henry II.’s reign another crusade was undertaken, but the ships of the Southern sea seem to have reached to larger dimensions by now. There is a record of a ship built in Venice for France in the year 1268. She was 110 feet long, 40 feet broad, and 11½ feet deep in the hold. She had also 6½ feet of head-room on her main deck. Her crew totalled 110 officers and men, and she was of about four or five hundred tons burthen.[49] The English ships had another opportunity of testing their sea-going qualities in the Mediterranean, for during a storm in the year 1270 the English squadron was the only part of the allied fleet that escaped without loss.
During Henry II.’s reign the magnet seems to have been first commonly used in navigation. From an old MS. in Corpus Christi College Cambridge we see the derivation of that anchor which is also freely used by balloons nowadays and which seamen find extremely useful when dragging for a lost anchor or cable—the grapnel with its several flukes projecting from a common centre. The MS. mentioned illustrates a sea-fight, and sailors are seen keeping the enemy’s galley close alongside by means of one of these anchors or grappling irons. The other anchors, as will have already been noticed by the reader in the illustration of the warship by Giotto’s pupil in Fig. 35, were stockless.
Edward I.’s charter, granted to the Cinque Ports, ordained that each time the king passed over the sea the Cinque Ports should “rigge up fiftie and seven ships” every one of which was to be manned with twenty armed soldiers. These were to be maintained at the ports’ own cost for fifteen days together. In this charter we come across the expression, so familiar to us now, “before the mast.” Thus it adds: “And that they be free of all their owne wines for which they do travaile of our right prise, that is to say, of one tunne before the mast, and of another behind the maste.”