The leaves that hung but never grew

Gravesend, Feb. 20. This day came in the Diamond from Seville, Diligence Sloop from Rotterdam, and Anne-Galley and Industry, both from Dieppe.

Deal, Feb. 19. Put back and came down the S. George, and William and Mary, both for Lisbon; Cane-wood for Barbadoes, Drake for New-England, John and Elizabeth for Jamaica, Hamden for S. Christophers, Sarah for Virginia, and Beckingham for Oporto.

Deal, Feb. 20. The Outward-bound failed yesterday all to the Westward; but soon after came down the Nightingal [sic], Devonshire, and Enfield, all for the East-Indies and are still here.

from The Post-Boy, Tuesday February 20 to Thursday February 22, 1721


It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good – English proverb


tags: proverb | sea travel

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Cock Lorel's Boat is a fantastical Tudor satire on the theme of the Ship of Fools. Parts of it are remarkably flat, not to say tedious; there is a very long list of the trades and professions that are represented in Cock Lorel's crew. But this part, where the ship sets sail with its rollicking company, has always appealed to me.

Than Cocke Lorell dyde his whystell blowe
That all his men sholde him knowe;
With that they cryed and made a shoute
That the water shoke all aboute;
Than men myght here the ores classhe
And on the water gave many a dasshe.
They sprede theyr sayles as voyde of sorowe
Forthe they rowed Saynt George to borowe.
For Joye theyr trumpettes dyde they blowe,
And some songe 'heve and howe, rombelowe'.
They sayled fro Garlyke Hede to Knaves In,
And a pele of gonnes gan they rynge.
Of Colman Hedge a syght they had
That made his company very glad,
For there they thought all to play
Bytwene Tyborne and Chelsay.
With this man was a lusty company,
For all raskyllers fro them they did trye;
They banysshed prayer, peas and sadnes,
And toke with them myrthe, sporte & gladnes;
They wolde not have vertu ne yet devocyon,
But ryotte and revell with Joly rebellyon.
They songe and daunsed full merely,
With swerynge and starynge heven hye.
Some sayd that they were gentyl men of grete myghte
That ther purses were so lyght,
And some wente in fured gownes & gaye shone
That had no mo faces than had the mone.
Of this day gladde was many a brothell
That myght have an ore with Cocke Lorell.
Thus they daunsed with all theyr myght
Tyll that Phebus had lost his lyght,
But than came Lucyna with all her pale hewe
To take her sporte amonge the cloudes blewe,
And Marcury he threwe downe his golden bemes,
And Sperus her sylver stremes,
That in the worlde gave so grete lyght
As all the erth had be paved with whyte.
Than Cocke wayed anker and hoysed his sayle,
And forthe he rowed without fayle.
They sayled Englande thorowe and thorowe,
Vyllage, towne, cyte and borowe.
They blessyd theyr shippe whan they had done,
And drank aboute Saynt Julyan's tonne.
Than every man pulled at his ore,
With that I coude se them no more,
But as they rowed up the hyll,
The bote swayne blewe his whystell full shryll.

from Cocke Lorelles Bote (c. 1509)


tag: sea travel

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William Falconer's long poem The Shipwreck was a surprise publishing success in 1762. The poem was founded on his experiences as one of a handful of survivors of the wreck of the merchant ship Britannia a few years earlier.

from The Shipwreck

Thus they direct the flying bark before
The impelling floods, that lash her to the shore:
High o'er the poop the audacious seas aspire,
Uproll'd in hills of fluctuating fire;
With labouring throes she rolls on either side,
And dips her gunnels in the yawning tide;
Her joints, unhinged, in palsied languors play,
As ice-flakes part beneath the noontide ray.
The gale howls doleful through the blocks and shrouds,
And big rain pours a deluge from the clouds;
From wintry magazines that sweep the sky,
Descending globes of hail impetuous fly;
High on the masts, with pale and livid rays,
Amid the gloom portentous meteors blaze;
The ethereal gloom in mournful pomp array'd
Now buried lies beneath impervious shade;
Now flashing round intolerable light,
Redoubles all the horror of the night –
Such terror Sinai's trembling hill o'erspread,
When Heaven's loud trumpet sounded o'er its head:
It seem'd, the wrathful Angel of the wind
Had all the horrors of the skies combined,
And here, to one ill-fated ship opposed,
At once the dreadful magazine disclosed;
And, lo! tremendous o'er the deep he springs,
The inflaming sulphur flashing from his wings;
Hark! his strong voice the dismal silence breaks,
Mad chaos from the chains of death awakes:
Loud, and more loud, the rolling peals enlarge,
And blue on deck the fiery tides discharge;
There all aghast the shivering wretches stood,
While chill suspense and fear congeal'd their blood;
Wide bursts in dazzling sheets the living flame,
And dread concussion rends the ethereal frame;
Sick earth convulsive groans from shore to shore,
And nature, shuddering, feels the horrid roar.

Canto III, lines 408–443

William Falconer (born Edinburgh, 1736; lost at sea in the Aurora frigate, 1769)


tag: sea travel

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