riches, loot from any captured ship, and a “lay”, or share, in a voyage’s profits. In port, they could leave the ship for a good drunk or two, some fresh air away from the typical ship’s reek, find “elbow room” and some precious privacy away from their shipmates, and have a run at the whores. To be a privateersman put a swagger in their step, and made seafaring a grand adventure, not a thankless chore.
When captains of any nation at war held recruiting “rondies”, they found themselves out-shone by the blandishments of privateers. In those days, there were no organised recruiting establishments, no basic training camps, and no Admiralty department responsible for assigning draughts of men to ships fitting out, or replacing men who had been killed, crippled, discharged, or lost to desertion. A Royal Navy captain had only a limited time to attract
Privateers operated in every corner of the world where ships of an enemy nation traded, and no seas were immune. Some French privateer captains, mostly from St.-Malo, were spectacularly successful in the Indian Ocean against convoys of the British East India Company, which bore rich cargoes to and from China, India, and the Far East. Some even dared to engage warships, and win, though that was usually the last thing a privateer would risk. If the privateer lost, it was all up, and even if they escaped with damage, that had to be repaired in port, resulting in long down-times with no profit, and a loss of money to pay for the repairs. A fast-sailing privateer’s speed was her best defence.
As Falconer noted in his dictionary, privateers sorta-kinda agreed to follow Navy rules when applying for their Letters of Marque and Reprisals, but once at sea it was “Katy bar the door”. Or, as it was said in
Bermuda, and its mysterious magnetic variations-there is no good explanation for them that I’ve heard of. I don’t know if there really is a Bermuda Triangle, but the latest Admiralty charts I used when writing this book note the swings of several degrees from Magnetic North that are
Basil Hall, a Midshipman aboard HMS
From Basil Hall, we also get Bisquit the dog.
That xebec that Lewrie’s squadron captured in his absence in American ports-in
Spanish Florida and lower Georgia were very sparsely settled in the early 1800s, and there were no settlements at what is now Miami, or in the Keys. The border country had been a battlefield between the Spanish, English, and French since the 1500s, and if Whites weren’t at each others’ throats, it was the Indians who raided, and the British colonists who made war on them in return. Governour Oglethorpe lured emigrants to lower Georgia to form a barrier against those raids, to protect his crown jewel, Savannah. Brunswick, Sunbury, Midway, and Darien are real places, and there are many historical sites from the colonial era and the Revolutionary War era to visit, including some restored forts. And, of course there are the Sea Islands. Cumberland Island is pretty-much off-limits for all but day-trippers, unless you’re one of the Kennedys, St. Simon’s is more touristy, and Jekyll, which I’ve visited several times, is much more laid back. Good luck, though, if you go in late summer; it’s “love bug” season. After driving from I-95 to Jekyll Island, I had to use half a bottle of windshield cleaner and a Dobie scrub pad to see where I was going!
Lewrie’s assault up the St. Mary’s River is based on an actual event. In July of 1805, HMS
News travelled no faster than ships in those days, so rumours of Missiessy and Villeneuve bringing fleets to the West Indies, with Admiral Horatio Nelson in pursuit, came to Lewrie weeks and months after the actual events. He still has no idea whether the French will attack the Bahamas or not. If, Nelson brings them to battle, he also does not know whether to fear for his youngest son, Hugh, now a Midshipman in HMS
All Lewrie can do is to enjoy being temporarily in command of all the smaller warships in the Bahamas, keep his fingers crossed in hopes that the French have bigger fish to fry, and hope that it all blows over so he can return to