"Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World"

[Guest]

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'Master and Commander]

[anonymous]

http://www.imdb.com/gallery/ss/0311113

http://www.imdb.com/gallery/ss/0311113

[carter]

Steve]

At another time, long previous

Steve]

At another time, long previous to this, according to an English Navy officer, Lieutenant Tomlinson, three thousand seamen, impelled by the same motive, fled ashore in a panic from the colliers between Yarmouth Roads and the Nore. Elsewhere, he says, in speaking of some of the men on board the King's ships, that "they were most miserable objects." This remark is perfectly corroborated by other testimony referring to another period. In alluding to the lamented scarcity of good English seamen during the wars of 1808, &c., the author of a pamphlet on "Naval Subjects" says, that all the best seamen, the steadiest and best-behaved men, generally succeeded in avoiding the impress. This writer was, or had been, himself a Captain in the British fleet.

Now it may be easily imagined who are the men, and of what moral character they are, who, even at the present day, are willing to enlist as full-grown adults in a service so galling to all shore-manhood as the Navy. Hence it comes that the skulkers and scoundrels of all sorts in a man-of-war are chiefly composed not of regular seamen, but of these "dock-lopers" of landsmen, men who enter the Navy to draw their grog and murder their time in the notorious idleness of a frigate. But if so idle, why not reduce the number of a man-of-war's crew, and reasonably keep employed the rest? It can not be done. In the first place, the magnitude of most of these ships requires a large number of hands to brace the heavy yards, hoist the enormous top-sails, and weigh the ponderous anchor. And though the occasion for the employment of so many men comes but seldom, it is true, yet when that occasion does come – and come it may at any moment – this multitude of men are indispensable.

But besides this, and to crown all, the batteries must be manned. There must be enough men to work all the guns at one time. And thus, in order to have a sufficiency of mortals at hand to "sink, burn, and destroy;" a man-of-war – besides, through her vices, hopelessly depraving the volunteer landsmen and ordinary seamen of good habits, who occasionally enlist – must feed at the public cost a multitude of persons, who, if they did not find a home in the Navy, would probably fall on the parish, or linger out their days in a prison.

Among others, these are the men into whose mouths Dibdin puts his patriotic verses, full of sea-chivalry and romance. With an exception in the last line, they might be sung with equal propriety by both English and American man-of-war's-men.

"As for me, in all weathers, all times, tides, and ends, Naught's a trouble from duty that springs;

For my heart is my Poll's, and my rhino's my friend's,
And as for my life, it's the king's.
To rancour unknown, to no passion a slave,
Nor unmanly, nor mean, nor a railer," &c.

I do not unite with a high critical authority in considering Dibdin's ditties as "slang songs," for most of them breathe the very poetry of the ocean. But it is remarkable that those songs – which would lead one to think that man-of-war's-men are the most care-free, contented, virtuous, and patriotic of mankind – were composed at a time when the English Navy was principally manned by felons and paupers, as mentioned in a former chapter. Still more, these songs are pervaded by a true Mohammedan sensualism; a reckless acquiescence in fate, and an implicit, unquestioning, dog-like devotion to whoever may be lord and master. Dibdin was a man of genius; but no wonder Dibdin was a government pensioner at £200 per annum.

But notwithstanding the iniquities of a man-of-war, men are to be found in them, at times, so used to a hard life; so drilled and disciplined to servitude, that, with an incomprehensible philosophy, they seem cheerfully to resign themselves to their fate. They have plenty to eat; spirits to drink; clothing to keep them warm; a hammock to sleep in; tobacco to chew; a doctor to medicine them; a parson to pray for them; and, to a penniless castaway, must not all this seem as a luxurious Bill of Fare?

There was on board of the Neversink a fore-top-man by the name of Landless, who, though his back was cross-barred, and plaided with the ineffaceable scars of all the floggings accumulated by a reckless tar during a ten years' service in the Navy, yet he perpetually wore a hilarious face, and at joke and repartee was a very Joe Miller.

That man, though a sea-vagabond, was not created in vain. He enjoyed life with the zest of everlasting adolescence; and, though cribbed in an oaken prison, with the turnkey sentries all round him, yet he paced the gun-deck as if it were broad as a prairie, and diversified in landscape as the hills and valleys of the Tyrol. Nothing ever disconcerted him; nothing could transmute his laugh into any thing like a sigh. Those glandular secretions, which in other captives sometimes go to the formation of tears, in him were expectorated from the mouth, tinged with the golden juice of a weed, wherewith he solaced and comforted his ignominious days.

"Rum and tobacco!" said Landless, "what more does a sailor want?"

His favorite song was "Dibdin's True English Sailor," beginning,

"Jack dances and sings, and is always content, In his vows to his lass he'll ne'er fail her;

His anchor's atrip when his money's all spent, And this is the life of a sailor."

But poor Landless danced quite as often at the gangway, under the lash, as in the sailor dance-houses ashore.

Another of his songs, also set to the significant tune of The King, God bless him! mustered the following lines among many similar ones:

"Oh, when safely landed in Boston or 'York,
Oh how I will tipple and jig it;
And toss off my glass while my rhino holds out,
In drinking success to our frigate!"

During the many idle hours when our frigate was lying in harbor, this man was either merrily playing at checkers, or mending his clothes, or snoring like a trumpeter under the lee of the booms. When fast asleep, a national salute from our batteries could hardly move him. Whether ordered to the main-truck in a gale; or rolled by the drum to the grog-tub; or commanded to walk up to the gratings and be lashed, Landless always obeyed with the same invincible indifference.

His advice to a young lad, who shipped with us at Valparaiso, embodies the pith and marrow of that philosophy which enables some man-of-war's-men to wax jolly in the service.

"Shippy!" said Landless, taking the pale lad by his neckerchief, as if he had him by the halter; "Shippy, I've seen sarvice with Uncle Sam – I've sailed in many Andrew Millers. Now take my advice, and steer clear of all trouble. D've see, touch your tile whenever a swob (officer) speaks to you. And never mind how much they rope's-end you, keep your red-rag belayed; for you must know as how they don't fancy sea-lawyers; and when the sarving out of slops comes round, stand up to it stiffly; it's only an oh Lord! or two, and a few oh my Gods—!that's all. And what then? Why, you sleeps it off in a few nights, and turns out at last all ready for your grog."
This Landless was a favorite with the officers, among whom he went by the name of "Happy Jack." And it is just such Happy Jacks as Landless that most sea-officers profess to admire; a fellow without shame, without a soul, so dead to the least dignity of manhood that he could hardly be called a man. Whereas, a seaman who exhibits traits of moral sensitiveness, whose demeanor shows some dignity within; this is the man they, in many cases, instinctively dislike. The reason is, they feel such a man to be a continual reproach to them, as being mentally superior to their power. He has no business in a man-of-war; they do not want such men. To them there is an insolence in his manly freedom, contempt in his very carriage. He is unendurable, as an erect, lofty-minded African would be to some slave-driving planter.

Let it not be supposed, however, that the remarks in this and the preceding chapter apply to all men-of-war. There are some vessels blessed with patriarchal, intellectual Captains, gentlemanly and brotherly officers, and docile and Christianized crews. The peculiar usages of such vessels insensibly soften the tyrannical rigor of the Articles of War; in them, scourging is unknown. To sail in such ships is hardly to realize that you live under the martial law, or that the evils above mentioned can any where exist.

And Jack Chase, old Ushant, and several more fine tars that might be added, sufficiently attest, that in the Neversink at least, there was more than one noble man-of-war's-man who almost redeemed all the rest.

Wherever, throughout this narrative, the American Navy, in any of its bearings, has formed the theme of a general discussion, hardly one syllable of admiration for what is accounted illustrious in its achievements has been permitted to escape me. The reason is this: I consider, that so far as what is called military renown is concerned, the American Navy needs no eulogist but History. It were superfluous for White-Jacket to tell the world what it knows already. The office imposed upon me is of another cast; and, though I foresee and feel that it may subject me to the pillory in the hard thoughts of some men, yet, supported by what God has given me, I tranquilly abide the event, whatever it may prove.

[JWLaRue]

Hmmmm...

Steve, are you familiar with

Hmmmm...

Steve, are you familiar with the O'Brian novels? The plot synopsis that you provided doeesn't sound like it came from the novels.

I find the title interesting. "Master and Commander" is the first novel in the series and "Far Side of the World" is (I think) about half way through the series.

Carter, might I (politely!) suggest that applying 20th (or 21st) century standards to the late 18th century is not really appropriate? No argument that the life of a sailor was harsh from our point of view....but this really should be discussed in the context if life on shore back then.

...and this type of discussion, as interesting as it might be, is not really relevant to things submarine-related.

-Jeff

[anonymous]

Hello Jeff and Carter,

You are

Hello Jeff and Carter,

You are correct Jeff in your reference to the plot synopsis discrepancies. They combined/modified from both of those mentioned O'Brien novels. The American frigate privateer that Captain Jack Aubrey RN in the novel has been tasked with locating/destroy/or capture becomes in the new recent film an 'American built' French 44 gunner (a gift to France). The film's story takes place in 1805 (Napoleonic War), so the idea of a French frigate in the film does seem to work better though I must admit. To borrow once as Carter has done from the 20th century, the Royal Navy was in this film tracking down a 'commerce raider' mono on mono much like the German criuzer Emden and the later Graf Spee. Perhaps the film makers thought 21st century general audiences might be confused with the novel's plot synopsis of the American frigate, and also the 'bad guys' to American audiences too. The French are not really seen up close face to face till the end of the film, are not depicted as devils, but as very capable and imaginative sailors. In the film, as Captain Audrey admits to his early mistakes and studies his foe respectfully, Audrey's friend Dr. Maturin tells him....."he thinks like you Jack".

I agree with you Jeff about Carters comments and perhaps a lack of context of the period. Life was harsh then, land or sea, peace or war. Watch the scenes in the film surrounding ship surgeon Stephen Maturin (actor Paul Bettany). No antiseptics or anesthetics really. Amazing. A gold coin placed in the opening in the patients' skull during brain surgery as a form of steel plate to heal over, the crew above on the main deck gallery watching their ship mate's operation fascinated like a scene from a college of medicine. HMS Surprise (a small 24 gunner) was very lucky to have such a good surgeon!

In other scenes, we see the ship pounding around the Horn, coated with snow and ice frost, the tops men climbing the rigging barefoot as was the norm. A lost toe or finger likely would most occur while in those very harsh latitudes. So cold, yet your footing sure. Discipline essential, quick crew reaction to orders would make the difference in the live's of both the ship and her crew. In the Hornblower epics (actor Gregory Peck) his Frigate 'Lydia' afforded him some 'distance' from the crew and officers on 'his' quarter deck according to his station as 'ships master'. We knew Hornblower was a brilliant navigator, sailor, gunner, though poor at swordsmanship he admitted. In 'Master and Commander', Russell Crowe's Jack Audrey's character is less 'plumper' gratefully than in the novels. In contrast to Hornblower in the 1951 film, we see Russell Crowe up in the rigging with his look out, or down at the bow's over the cable teir's to get an early first sight leaning out over the water. No room in this '24 gunner' for 'distance' anywhere. He looks like one of the crew in his zeal, if not for his uniform and 'command presence'.

Just some thoughts

Steve

[carter]

Gents]

[color=#000000]Gents]

[desert boat]

Ok dudes ... 'nuff BS

Ok dudes ... 'nuff BS about this movie and your reviews. As LaRue said earlier, if it isn't about submarines, please talk about it amongst yourselves off this site. Thank you for your hoped for adult understanding!

[JWLaRue]

Yea, I know who Melville

[color=#000000]Yea, I know who Melville was. Not one of my favorite writers (I don't really care for his style).

Telling us that the extract from his novel is about submarines is really stretching one's perception of reality.

As Ray (Desert Boat) said]