Sunday, March 15, 2026

THE PRESS-GANG AT WORK

  THE PRESS-GANG AT WORK (p. 64). 

 

THE PRESS-GANG AT WORK

In the 1700s, a press-gang was essentially a state-sanctioned kidnapping squad.

Technically known as "Impressment," this was the Royal Navy’s brutal solution to a math problem: they had the world's largest fleet of warships but not enough volunteers to sail them. To fill the gap, groups of armed sailors and officers (the press-gang) would roam port towns to forcibly "recruit" men into service.

 

THE SAILMAKER AND THE BOATSWAIN*

A still more curious story is that of a sailmaker who many years ago went to spend Christmas with his mother near Deal. On his way he spent a night at an inn at Deal, and shared a bed with the landlady’s uncle, the boatswain of an Indiaman*, who had just come ashore. In the morning the uncle was missing, the bed was saturated with blood, and the young sailmaker had disappeared. The bloodstains were soon traced through the house, and beyond, as far as the pier-head. It was naturally concluded that the boatswain had been murdered and his body thrown into the sea. A hue-and-cry was at once set up for the young man, who was arrested the same evening in his mother’s house.

He was taken red-handed, with ample proof of his guilt upon him. His clothes were stained with blood; in his pockets were a knife and a strange silver coin, both of which were sworn to most positively as the property of the missing boatswain. The evidence was so conclusive that no credence could be given to the prisoner’s defense, which was ingenious but most improbable. His story was that he woke in the night and asked the boatswain the way to the garden, so that he could not open the back door, and borrowed his companion’s clasp-knife to lift the latch. When he returned to bed the boatswain was gone; why or where he had no idea.

The youth was convicted and sent to the gallows, but by strange fortune he escaped death. The hanging was done so imperfectly that his feet touched the ground, and when taken down he was soon resuscitated by his friends. They made him leave as soon as he could move, and he went down to Portsmouth, where he engaged on board a man-of-war about to start for a foreign station. On his return from the West Indies three years later to be paid off, he had gained the rating of a master’s mate and gladly took service on another ship. The first person he met on board was the boatswain he was supposed to have murdered!

The explanation given was sufficiently strange. On the day of his murder the boatswain had been bled by a barber for a pain in the side. During the absence of his bedfellow the bandage had come off his arm, which bled copiously, and he got up hurriedly to go in search of the barber. The moment he got into the street he was seized by a press gang and carried off to the pier. There a man-of-war’s boat was in waiting, and he was taken off to a ship in the Downs, which sailed direct for the East Indies. He never thought of communicating with his friends; letter-writing was not much indulged in at that period.

Doubts have been thrown upon this story, which rests upon local tradition. As no body was found, it does not seem probable that there would be a conviction for murder. Of the various circumstances on which it was based, that of the possession of the knife was explained, but not the possession of the silver coin. It has been suggested that when the sailmaker took it out of the boatswain’s pocket the coin had stuck between the blades of the knife.

 

*The boatswain (pronounced and often spelled "bosun") was essentially the ship's Foreman or Chief of Operations. He didn't navigate the ship (that was the Master’s job), but he was responsible for everything physical on the deck.

*An East Indiaman was a massive, heavily armed merchant ship belonging to the East India Company (EIC).

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