This book was this month’s selection for our book club, the Literary Lush. Unfortunately, due to a change in schedule, I was unable to attend the meeting. While many books we read are new to me, this one is actually one we got for my kid, who read Moby Dick in Jr. High, devoured the Patrick O’Brian books, and can literally free-build any style of ship or boat (and there is a difference) you desire, out of legos.
So, have you ever heard of the War of Jenkins’ Ear? If so, you are probably a naval history buff. In the list of stupid, pointless, senseless, and wasteful wars, this one would probably rank higher if it hadn’t taken place mostly on the sea and at colonialist forts, and thus didn’t take a particularly high toll in civilian lives. Related to the War of Austrian Succession, it was one of so many conflicts that was about dominance in politics and commerce. And, like so many wars, the lessons learned were fewer than they should have been, and mostly were along the lines of “well, that sure didn’t work.”
The Wager is not about illicit gambling, but about a ship of that name. Part of an expedition against the Spanish, it sailed around Cape Horn as part of a larger flotilla, and met with disaster. Separated from the main group in horrifically rough seas, with the crew suffering from scurvy, it got in too close to land and was wrecked on a remote island off the western coast of what is now Chile.
The captain lost control of the crew after he shot one in cold blood, and seeing no future but starvation, the survivors set out in the small boats they had left, attempting to reach some human settlement.
The first to leave was the main group of enlisted seamen, led by the gunner, John Bulkley, intending to go back around the Horn and reach Brazil. The rest stayed with the captain, David Cheap, who attempted to continue the original goal of assaulting Spanish holdings in Chile.
Bulkley’s group made it to Brazil, but at the cost of many lives. Upon return to England, he published his meticulous diary, in part as an attempt to get ahead of any accusations of mutiny.
Shockingly, Cheap’s group as well, which included a young midshipman who would be the grandfather of the future Lord Byron, turned up after the war. They did manage to find their way to Spanish territory, but were captured and imprisoned until the end of the war.
With these two competing stories, and a terrible disaster of an expedition, what was to be done? There was every reason to try Captain Cheap for murder, and his crew for mutiny, but ultimately, the Admiralty decided the facts reflected too poorly on the British Navy to be tried publically. Instead, after an investigation and a cursory trial, all charges were rejected, and the parties allowed to go their own ways.
Essentially, the reality of a disastrous wreck, a failed war, breakdown of discipline, possible cannibalism, murder, chaos, and general mayhem was too much to rehash in public. Better to just pretend it was no big deal.
Particularly since the entire premise of the nobility of the British Empire was that it was superior to those “savages” they were conquering and enslaving. This incident cast doubt on who truly was the brute.
Also, as we lawyers find fascinating, there was also a question of law that remained unresolved, and promised to lead to terrible precedent no matter how it was resolved.
Simply put, this was the issue: Technically speaking, a captain retained tremendous power over a crew, and discipline was the keystone of the system. But when did that power end?
If the ship was gone, was he still a captain over his crew on land? This was particularly problematic since once a ship ceased to exist, pay stopped for the sailors. They either had to become part of a new crew (common if rescued after a wreck), or support themselves until they had a new ship.
Without pay, they were not technically still in the Navy, and if they weren’t, the captain’s power over them ceased.
Or so the argument went. It had never been tested in court. And nobody really wanted to risk a clear decision. If the captain’s authority continued, then pay would have had to be given, and rescue prioritized. If the captain’s authority ceased, then wrecked sailors were free to do whatever they wanted. It’s a no-win situation for the mucky-mucks.
Grann’s account of the voyage and its aftermath is well researched, and drawn largely from the extensive written accounts by Bulkley and John Byron. In addition, Grann cites passages from Lord Byron’s works which appear to contain material from his grandfather’s stories - he would later become an admiral.
I didn’t take a whole lot of notes on this book. The details are fascinating, of course, and as someone who has a good background knowledge of classic seafaring, it was a fun read. For the most part, I recommend just reading it straight through, and looking up terms only as needed. A deeper dive would include reading Patrick O’Brian’s wonderful Aubrey & Maturin series.
The book is a good read, with a balance of detail and explanation with a narrative arc. Grann knows what he is doing and writes well.
There is one final thing I did want to mention. While the remote island of the wreck was uninhabited, the area was home to the Kawesqar, a nomadic indigenous people who knew the labyrinth of islands on the brutally windy and rough coast. Grann talks about them a bit, and notes that it was the women who were the skilled navigators who steered and paddled the long canoes. It is all too easy for white people to assume that patriarchy is the norm around the world, and that Europeans invented feminism. Not so much. And, in this story, it is clearly the British who are the real savages, which is a significant reason that so many of them died of disease and starvation by the end of the book. It’s hard to find help when your nation has a rather bad reputation for brutality to those they encounter. Just saying.
Anyway, give the book a try, and follow along on my blog for all of the Literary Lush Book Club selections. (You can also find us on Facebook, and attend a local gathering if you are in our part of California.)
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