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Mariners exhibition launch, 7 May 2025

Posted on by hilary.carey
The Mariners exhibition, curated by Lucy Wray and featuring work by commissioned artists, will open in May in Bristol before touring to Liverpool and Hull later in the year.
You are warmly invited to the launch of the Mariners: Race, Religion and Empire in British Ports 1801-1914 project exhibition.
When: Wednesday 7th May, 14:00 – 15:30
Location: The Mount Without, Upper Church Ln, Bristol. BS2 8FN.
This UK Arts and Humanities Research Council funded project (AH/W009803/1), explores the histories of missions to sailors in British ports. It examines the experiences of both British sailors and ‘Lascars’, a term used for largely South Asian seafarers who became an increasingly significant labour force within the merchant marine.
This travelling exhibition will be displayed in Liverpool, Hull and Bristol in 2025.
It features project research and commissioned artwork from Kremena Dimitrova, Charlotte Jones, and William Lindley.
There will be light refreshments served, and the bar will be open for guests to purchase drinks.
Please RSVP via our Eventbrite page here.
Best wishes,
The Mariner’s project team. 

Royal Docks: Unearthing Invisible Seafaring Histories of Empire

Posted on by sumita.mukherjee

By Asif Shakoor

The following post is written by Asif Shakoor, an Independent Scholar and authority on lascar heritage who is a member of our advisory board. The following is an extract from the presentation he gave at our project conference at the SS Great Britain in September 2024:

The term ‘Lascar’ was historically used to describe Black, Asian, and ethnic minority seafarers who served on British ships sailing from India in the 1600s. The original word, however, is Lashkar, not Lascar. The English diplomat Sir Thomas Roe first introduced the word lashkar into the English language in 1616. Later, in 1625, Sir Thomas Roe introduced the corrupted form lascar. This term is a misapplication and distortion of the Persian lashkar.i  

Many senior English officials in India had already been using lashkar before Sir Thomas Roe introduced the corrupted version lascar in 1625. For instance, William Biddulph used the word lashkar in 1621, while Robert Hughes and John Parker did so in 1622.  Maritime scholar, Dr Gopalan Balachandran, equated the term lascar with coolie, thereby rendering it a derogatory term.ii The etymology of lashkar traces it from Urdu لشکر, which originates from the Persian word لشکر, meaning ‘army’ in both languages. Further, it can be traced back to the Arabic word عسكر al-‘askir, also meaning ‘army’.

I don’t think my grandmother would have referred to my grandfather, Mahomed Gama, as a lascar. She would likely have asked, ‘So what is that then? What does that mean? What is a lascar?”. My grandfather was a South Asian seafarer لشکر, and I never refer to him as a lascar. Such a term does not exist in Urdu or Persian linguistic dictionaries from the past century.

The “Lascar Depot” in West Ham 

Around 1814 the East India Company established a hostel, called a depot, for seafarers from the Indian sub-continent who came to London on the Company’s ships. The depot was located in the parish of West Ham, and overseen by a ‘superintendent of lascars’, a London merchant named Abraham Gole. There may have been a second hostel in Shadwell, accommodating seafarers from both the sub-continent and China.

The East India Company claimed to have a moral obligation to look after these seafarers. They stated that they ‘felt it to be their duty, to use every means their power to preserve from injury those natives of India who were employed in navigating the ships’ that they owned, as well as those of other ship-owners. The Company claimed that the depot provided the seafarers ‘with every necessary comfort’.iii

Abraham Gole provided board and lodging, ‘including tobacco’ and conveyed the seamen to and from the docks, charging the East India Company a daily rate. In 1816 he reduced the charges, possibly because he feared that the hostel in West Ham would be closed after a petition against it was submitted by local residents. Drawn up by the vicar of West Ham, the Reverend C. Jones, and signed by more than 100 local people, the petition claimed that the hostel had ‘become a great nuisance’ to them and their families, though why was not clear. However, it seems that the petition was successful, because in 1818 the minutes of the government’s board of commissioners for India noted that the ‘depot’ appeared to have closed.

‘Le Gestenhall’ – A Guesthouse for ‘Lascars’ in West Ham in the 1840s 

A guesthouse for South Asian ‘lascar’ seamen once stood on the banks of the Channelsea River, a small tributary of the River Lea. The building, originally part of the Stratford Langthorne Abbey grounds, was recorded as ‘Le Gestenhall’ and was reportedly used to house ‘lascars’ in the 1840s. Today, a modern office block, likely Channelsea House on Canning Road (E15), occupies the site. This building is visible when travelling westbound on the District Line from West Ham Underground station and is situated adjacent to Masjid-e-Ilyas, a mosque (or Muslim place of worship).

‘Lascar’ Deaths and Burials in West Ham Cemetery 

With the opening of the Victoria Dock in 1855, ‘Lascar’ seafarers began arriving at the port. As ‘lascar’ seamen arrived in England, many fell victim to tropical and sea-borne diseases, while others died in London from unexplained causes. Seafarers also frequently suffered from sexually transmitted infections and pneumonia, which were also rife among seafarers. Many seamen died shortly after embarking on their voyages.

Dozens of Muslim seafarers were subsequently buried in West Ham Cemetery, which officially opened in 1857. Among these burials was Abdul Rahman, who died at the Seamen’s Hospital and was laid to rest in West Ham Cemetery on 17th September 1901. The burials of ‘lascar’ seafarers were in unconsecrated, unmarked public graves.

Many ships, such as the Belle of the Sea under the command of Captain Lewis, docked at the Victoria Dock in 1858, bringing cargo and ‘lascar’ crew from Calcutta, British India. The Belle of the Sea was the first vessel from Calcutta to dock at the Royal Victoria Dock, arriving on 5th July 1858.  

‘Lascars’ 

The Graphic, from 6th August 1892, reported on 2,000 ‘lascar’ seafarers professing ‘the creed of Mahomet’ and observing ʿĀshūrāʾ عاشوراء, the commemoration of Imam Husayn’s martyrdom. They gathered at the renamed Royal Victoria Dock for a ten-day period in the first week of August. The article incorrectly remarked about ‘the murder of Hasan and Hussein’. The commemoration of ʿĀshūrāʾ عاشوراء marks the martyrdom of Imam Husayn and not Imam Hasan. The article described in great depth the events of the procession, including a rather bizarre occurrence of the ‘lascars’ pausing “to make their salaams at the offices of the two companies”—those being the offices of the Peninsular and Oriental Steam Navigation Company (P&O) and the British India Steam Navigation Company, both of which retained offices at the Royal Docks. The term ‘salaam’, Arabic for ‘peace’ السلام, here implies a greeting.

The Illustrated London News, dated 9th April 1904, carried an article titled, ‘Hobson Jobson: A Curious Hindoo Celebration at Easter in the East End’. This event was, in fact, a Muslim commemoration of ʿĀshūrāʾ at the Royal Albert Dock, not a ‘Hindoo Celebration’. The phrase ‘Hobson Jobson’ refers to the names Hasan and Husayn, the grandsons of Prophet Muhammad, and evolved as a linguistic corruption of the call Ya Hasan, Ya Husayn یاحسن ياحسين ‘ This phrase gradually morphed through variations—’Hosseen Gosseen,’ ‘Hossy Gossy,’ ‘Hossen Jossen,’ and ‘Jackson Backson’—eventually becoming ‘Hobson-Jobson’.iv The phrase became so commonly used that Colonel Henry Yule and Dr. A.C. Burnell adopted it as the title for their 1886 dictionary, Hobson-Jobson: A Glossary of Colloquial Anglo-Indian Words and Phrases. The article described the ’lascars’ as ‘grotesquely dressed’ and carrying a ‘flimsy temple made of cardboard and paper’. It further suggested that the ‘temple’ was believed to contain the ‘devil’. However, this was an incorrect reference, as it was not a temple. In fact, it was known as Al-Ta’ziyyah تعزية, an Arabic term implying condolence or comfort, and a symbolic expression of grief made to represent the mausoleum of Imam Husayn (the grandson of Prophet Muhammad). Moreover, it is not associated with containing the devil.

An earlier edition of The Graphic, from 27th November 1873, featured a sketch of ‘lascar’ seafarers described as ‘Praying at Sunset.’ In this depiction, Muslim ‘lascars’ are shown in the Tashahhud تَشَهُّد posture meaning “testimony of faith”, also known as at-Tahiyyat ٱلتَّحِيَّات, performing the al-Maġrib prayer ṣalāt al-maġrib المغرب صلاة. Another ‘lascar’ is portrayed making supplication, or Dua دعاء, on the forecastle of the Sumatra, a vessel of the P&O.

Mahomed Gama (1895–1965) 

Mahomed Gama was born in 1895 in Jhang, Old Mirpur, in the erstwhile princely state of Jammu & Kashmir. He enlisted in the Mercantile Marine in 1913, beginning his service aboard the SS Mooltan.

During the First World War, Mahomed Gama also served on the SS Medina, transporting cargo and passengers. The ship called at the ports of London and New Sydney, Australia, in February 1916, eventually arriving in Bombay (now Mumbai) on 20th November 1916.

Notably, prior to Mahomed Gama’s service, the SS Medina had conveyed King George V to British India for his Delhi Durbar Coronation in 1911. On 11th November 1911, King George and Queen Mary departed from Portsmouth aboard RMS Medina and arrived in Bombay on 2nd December 1911. The durbar took place on 12th December 1911.

Mahomed Gama arrived onboard the SS Khiva at the Royal Victoria Dock, London, in December 1917. He remained there for a month, until the first week of January 1918, while the SS Khiva was refitted for its onward journey, transporting American troops from New York to the British ports of London, Plymouth, and Liverpool.

After the war ended, Mahomed Gama was awarded two medals in recognition of his service: the British War Medal and the Mercantile Marine War Medal. He passed away in August 1965 in Jhang, Old Mirpur, while visiting Pakistan. His burial site is now submerged beneath the waters of the Mangla Reservoir. His descendants continue to reside in both the United Kingdom and Pakistan.

Amir Haidar Khan (1900–1989) 

Dada Amir Haidar Khan (anglicised in the crew records as Ameer Hyder Atta Mahomed) served aboard the SS Khiva alongside Mahomed Gama. In his memoir, Chains to Lose: Life and Struggles of a Revolutionary, he vividly describes life during the First World War at the Royal Victoria Dock.v He recounts how London’s streets were ‘kept dark’, with little visible beyond the ‘cross-beams of powerful searchlights’ that scanned the skies over the city. He wrote, ‘Thus London, the cornerstone of the British Empire, was a rather gloomy place to live during the winter of 1917–1918.’

Reflecting on his impressions of London, he observed, ‘I had thought of all the white-skinned men who wore collars and suits as Sahibs, and all the women who wore skirts, blouses and awry hats as Memsahibs—the people of the ruling class as I knew them in India.’ In Urdu and Arabic, Sahib صاحب is a respectful title for a man, with Sahiba صاحبة as the equivalent for a woman, similar in function to the English use of ‘esquire’.

Amir Haidar Khan’s memoir is among the earliest recorded histories by a ‘lascar’ seafarer documenting experiences from the First World War.

The leading scholar on the South Asian presence in Britain, Dr Rozina Visram notes: ‘In 1919, at the end of the First World War, Indian seamen comprised 20 per cent of the British maritime labour force. Ten years later, the percentage stood at 23.5, rising to 26 per cent in 1938, a total of 50,000.’vi

Rohama Hassa (1895 -): The Oldest Surviving ‘Nolly’ or Continuous Discharge Certificate 

Continuous Discharge Certificates (CDCs) were introduced following the Merchant Shipping Act of 1854, which required a CDC to be signed by both the seafarer and the master of the vessel at the termination of each voyage. The earliest CDC first appeared in the early 1910s.

Rohama Hassa (anglicised as Rohama Hassa, though his original name was Rahima), was born in 1895 in the Punjab, British India, and is recorded on his Continuous Discharge Certificate as a ’Punjabi Mussuliman’. The phrase musalmān مسلمان is a Persian/Urdu term simply denoting his adherence to the Muslim faith. His CDC bears his fingerprint, as the majority of ‘lascars’ were unable to comprehend, read, or write in English, so a thumbprint sufficed in place of a signature.

Rohama Hassa’s CDC is the earliest known to survive in the United Kingdom, named to a South Asian ’lascar’ seafarer. It was issued in March 1914.

An analysis of Rohama Hassa’s CDC shows he served during the First World War on the SS Mongolia, SS Syria, SS Delta, and SS Kaiser-i-Hind, all vessels belonging to the P&O. Rules permitted a CDC to be valid for five years, renewable for up to five more years, provided the holder was a serving seaman and his CDC had not been cancelled, withdrawn, or suspended.  

According to crew lists and agreements, Rohama Hassa served on additional vessels of the P&O, namely the SS Moldavia and SS Narkunda. However, these vessels are not recorded on this CDC due to the reasons above. They would have been recorded on a separate CDC issued to him.

Acknowledgements

Mark Gorman, Local Historian, London Borough of Newham

Tom Chivers, Postgraduate Researcher, Queen Mary University of London, London

References

i Cited in the Oxford Concise Dictionary (Oxford University Press, 1st edition, 1911); and the Reader’s Digest Great Encyclopaedic Dictionary (Oxford University Press, 2nd edition, 1962).

ii Balachandran, Gopalan, 2012. Globalizing Labour: Indian seafarers and world shipping 1870-1945 (New Delhi. Oxford University Press)

iii London Courier and Evening Gazette, 25th January 1814

iv Bragg, Melvyn, 2016.  The Adventures of English: The Definitive Biography of Our Language (London: Hodder & Stoughton)

v Haidar Khan, Dada Amir,1989. Chains to Lose: Life and Struggles of a Revolutionary  (New Delhi: Patriot Publishers)

vi Visram, Rozina, 2002. Asians in Britain: 400 Years of History (London: Pluto Press), p. 225 

Smith and the New Sailor’s Magazine

Posted on by hilary.carey

Back to the BL

After a long time waiting for the British Library to recover from the cyber attack earlier this year, it was exciting to be back and able to order in advance. On 4 December, I arrived early and found my orders waiting for me. Thank you BL staff!

British Library

Smith and the New Sailor’s Magazine

This time my principal target was the original – and undigitised – copies of the G.C. (‘Boatswain’) Smith’s issues of the Soldier’s and New Sailor’s Magazine (NSM), which was published by Smith from his headquarters in and around Wellclose Square in London from 1828 and continued, though with many changes of name, until Smith’s death in 1863. I was intrigued because historians have differed over the significance of this journal and Smith’s place in the marine mission movement.

Smith launched the New Sailor’s Magazine as an act of defiance following his dismissal as editor of the Sailor’s Magazine and acrminomious split from the main dissenting mission for seamen in London, the Port of London Society and Bethel Union (PLSBUS).New Sailor's Magazine

According to Kverndal (1986: 271), Smith was entirely the injured party, and had every right to take his talents elsewhere. He argues that Smith had triumphantly created the Mariner’s Church and its numerous satellite welfare and mission work for sailors’ and their families, while all Smith’s dissenting and Church rivals floundered without support or effectiveness. But was it really the case? Is it correct, as Kverndall (1986: 274) states, that the PLSBUS was motivated by sheer jealousy of Smith’s ‘continuing success, coupled with their own diminishing support’?

In fact, this is rather less than the whole story, as I soon discovered by reading Smith’s New Sailor’s Magazine, which proudly proclaimed Smith as the ‘late editor of the Sailor’s Magazine’.

As with all of Smith’s publications, marketing and branding were key features with attempts to entice subscribers and supporters through calls to patriotism, religion and national pride. The first volume included three separate publications, The Soldier’s Magazine and Military Chronicle, aimed at soldiers,  The New Sailor’s Magazine and Naval Chronicle, for supporters of maritime missions, and a monthly brochure for the Sailor’s Asylum and New Brunswick Institution, the precursor to the London Sailors’ Home.

The Soldier’s Magazine was brashly patriotic and included an engraving of Smith’s most important patron, Admiral Lord James Gambier (1756-1833). The cover was embellished with a header including flags, cannon, helmets, a trumpet and drum to the left, with naval emblems of an anchor, sails and masts to the right. Beneath was the logo: ‘Fear God. Honor the King’. It would take a wise reader to realise that the main business of the magazine was not to serving members of the military, but rather former soldiers and sailors of the merchant service and their urban patrons.

The cover of the New Sailor’s Magazine is less showy, but there are indications that Smith’s resources were rather less than he claimed. Unsurprisingly, there are no stories from the PLS and Bethel Union, and Smith instead resorted to publishing the sermon delivered by the Rev. William Scorseby, Anglican chaplain to the Episcopal Society for Sailors at Liverpool. Scorseby would soon become celebrated in his own right, as an Arctic explorer, and patron of Anglican missions to seafarers, especially deep sea fishermen.

With the editorial licence of The New Sailor’s Magazine, Smith would  denigrate the efforts of the Episcopal floating chapel in Liverpool and London, and the successful efforts of Anglican Evangelicals to make a success of the London Sailor’s Home, but for now he was dependent on Church rather than Chapel sources to fill the pages of his new magazine.

BFSSFS debt

The first sign of serious problems for Smith and his enterprises appear with the financial report published in the June 1828 issue of the New Sailor’s Magazine following the annual Meeting of the British and Foreign Seamen’s & Soldier’s Friend Society, or Mariners’ Church & Watermen’s Bethel Union (BFSSFS). While each monthly issue  always included a gratifying and minutely detailed list of all donations, big and small, this was the first set of fully audited accounts, as signed by William Hodge, W.G. Barnard, and R. Ward. These showed that from 17 May 1827 to 15 May 1828, income received had reached almost £2000, but there was a heavy debt of almost £800 for printing, stationers and ‘agents’ salaries’, ie payments to those employed full-time to collect funds for the society. Smith could not afford his grand publications, or his vision for a charitable empire based on the Mariner’s Church, nor could he afford to alienate the wealthier patrons who had earlier flocked to the Port of London Society and its signature floating chapel.

FS Accounts 1827-28

The ‘agents’ salaries’ are a particularly worrying feature of the cash account. They show that about 25% of all donations had been expended in salaries to those responsible for raising funds. Moreover, ‘travelling expenses’ amounted to over £200 – more than a year’s salary for many clergy – much of which would have been incurred by Smith on his relentless promotional and lecture tours. This was not sustainable, and the reality was that Smith’s Mariner’s church enterprise, conducted in belligerent rivalry to that of like-minded dissenting and Anglican Evangelical supporters of the same cause, was a white elephant. Yet Smith continued to attract admirers and donations, which the following year, 1828-29, were reported by the Missionary Register as no less than £3462. Twelve months later, the same journal reported that the BFSSFS debt stood at £1500, inflating to £2500 in 1831 and to £3000 by 1832. (Adjusted for inflation, this is the equivalent of over £420,000 today). This was a colossal burden for any small, voluntary society, even today, but was an overwhelming and alarming liability in 1832. Smith’s solution was to exclude any mention of the debt from the New Sailor’s Magazine,  while continuing to solicit new donations and make a show of transparency by listing everyone who made a contribution.

These were heady days for the marine mission movement, with handsome donations and subscriptions recorded by the Missonary Register (1830: 517) for a range of maritime missionary causes, including £3393 for the venerable Naval and Military Bible Society, £597 for the Merchant Seaman’s Bible Society, and £1700 for the Sailors’ Home. Smith’s main dissenting rival, the Port of London Society received a modest £884, reflecting the competition for support especially in London, but was managing to survive and – importantly – remained solvent.

Smith’s legacy

I have scrutinised Smith’s legacy as the leading figure in the maritime mission movement for an article forthcoming in the Journal of Ecclesiastical History. Smith’s personality has divided critics, with those from within his own Baptist and dissenting tradition, including Kverndal (1986) and Dray (2013) keen to overlook his financial improprieties. I am more critical, not least because hundreds of people of very small means contributed to the cause, and were entitled to know that their donations were spent helping sailors, not chasing Smith’s grandiose and debt-laden ambitions.

It may not be possible to untangle the details at this distance in time, but there is a smoking gun, and a pattern of over enthusiastic promotion, unexplained or inadequately explained debt, and the reality that Smith would eventually be imprisoned four times for debt.

Sources

Dray, Stephen. 2013. A Right Old Confloption Down Penzance (Carn-Brea Media: n.p.).

Kverndal, Roald. 1986. Seamen’s missions: their origin and early growth (William Carey Library: Pasadena, Calif).

CMS. Missionary Register, 17-20 (1829-1832). Yale Mission Periodicals Online

NSM. Soldiers’ Chronicle and New Sailor’s Magazine, 1-2 (1828-29).

 

Mariners at Treefest

Posted on by hilary.carey

It is the season for – Christmas trees!.

St Mary Redcliffe from docks
St Mary Redcliffe from the Bristol city docks.

The Mariners team is excited to be planning a contribution to Treefest Bristol 2024

What is Treefest?

Treefest is a spectacular festive display of Christmas trees held within the splendid gothic church of St Mary Redcliffe.

Treefest is an opportunity for local people, schools, businesses, charities, community groups and other organisations to decorate a tree and display it  in the atmospheric gothic surrounds of St Mary Redcliffe. It’s a good opportunity to tell our 1000s of visitors about your organisation for free, while helping to raise money for local charities.

So far, our research administrator, Abi Freeman, has bought a tree and acquired bunting from our project partner, the Hull History Centre. We are having fun creating maritime-themed decorations, with a research cutting edge.

Look out for more upates on Treefest in coming weeks.

Word on the Waters – from the Mariners conference

Posted on by hilary.carey

The following post is written by Claire Weatherall, the archivist responsible for  the Mission to Seafarers collection at Hull History Centre and a member of the Mariners Advisory Board. In the post, they explore the question: What can we glean about the lives of sailors from the first publication of the Missions to Seamen? This was presented as part of the Mariners conference, at the ss Great Britain on 12-13 September.

Introduction 

Whilst cataloguing the archive of the Mission to Seafarers I learnt much of the lives of the chaplains and lay readers who undertook the daily work of the organisation. Regular reports and correspondence from port stations to head office capture the activities of these missionaries in ports across the world. We might similarly expect to find the archive littered with references to individuals aided by the organisation. However, details of the lives of seafarers that the Mission sought to help are rarely captured in the official record. 

We must think creatively to uncover the lived experiences of seafarers as revealed through interactions with missionary organisations. When cataloguing a series of publications produced by the Mission, I noticed that extracts from chaplains’ diaries, since lost to time, were often included in the early magazines. These extracts record encounters between chaplains and individual seafarers. 

The Mission’s first known magazine, The Word on the Waters, was published in 1858 (Hull History Centre Reference: U DMS/13/1/1). It was intended for circulation amongst seafarers and supporters of the Mission’s aims. With this in mind, we should consider that content was likely selected to demonstrate successful outcomes from the Mission’s work and to expound its Christian objectives. Nevertheless, the details captured in chaplains’ accounts can help us piece together narratives of seafarers’ lives.

First volume of The Word on the Waters  1 (1858) and illustrated issue from The Word on the Waters, new ser. 33 (1897) whoiwing ‘A mission-cutter at work’. MTS Archive, Hull History Centre.

The lives of seafarers 

So, what kind of details can we learn? 

Firstly, we find that life in port away from home could leave seafarers vulnerable to unscrupulous individuals. An extract from the correspondence of the Mission’s first chaplain describes meeting a sailor in a ‘forlorn’ state whilst walking in the street. The sailor is said to have recounted coming ashore with several months of wages, being helped to buy new clothing and find somewhere to stay, where he was plied with alcohol and women, before receiving a huge bill that he was having to go back to sea to work pay off (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.34-35). The description matches a practice known as crimping, which many seafarers in port are known to have experienced. Whilst the anecdote is used to caution against the dangers of drunkenness and lewd behaviour, the details help us understand how easily sailors in a strange port could be taken advantage of. It also helps us understand factors contributing to financial hardship faced by some individuals. 

Extract from Word on the Waters: ‘Surely the owners of ships should have more regard to the lives of seamen’.

We can glimpse details of physical conditions endured by seafarers. For example, a Bristol Channel chaplain records encountering a man onboard ship who was placed in irons and kept to a prison diet for striking the ship’s mate, thus revealing something of punishment at sea in practice (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.68). The same extract also notes that the chaplain was able to help secure the man’s release. Another extract highlights the lack of medical care available to seafarers: In the extract, a chaplain to the English Channel recounts visiting a vessel whose crew had been struck down by fever. The chaplain states that he found one man to be particularly ill but that the captain refused to allow him to be taken ashore for medicine. He describes rowing back at night with a surgeon friend and medicine to help the man (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, pp.116-119). Incidentally, in both examples, intervention by a chaplain led to physical improvements in the individual’s situation, suggesting that missionaries had a role to play in safeguarding the physical welfare of seafarers as well as their spiritual welfare. 

Extracts also reveal details of working conditions experienced by some seafarers. For example, an extract from the journal of a Bristol Channel chaplain recounts the plight of a shipwrecked Scottish crew. He notes that the loss of their ship ‘was occasioned by overloading, and especially by having pine logs on the deck, which, getting adrift in a gale, stove in and carried away everything, rendering it dangerous and impossible also for the men to work the pumps steadily’, continuing ‘owners of the ships should have more regard to the lives of seamen. It is the overloading of vessels which causes a considerable part of the destruction at sea and loss of life’ (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.68-69). 

We see evidence of literacy amongst seafarers. For instance, a Bristol Channel chaplain records meeting a sailor from Calcutta who had been baptized and educated by British missionaries. He notes that the two shared a book to read prayers and exposition during a service (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.67). Another example is given by a chaplain working on the Mersey, who recounts meeting ‘a black cook who had learnt to read English at Demerara’ having ‘obtained an old Bible from a sailor’ (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.187). The same chaplain also describes visiting an American ship and meeting a crew eager to receive reading material and converse with him: ‘All the sailors were blacks… I believe they could all read; they were very civil and respectful’ (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.255). As the above instances relate to seafarers of non-British origin who appeared to engage with Christianity, it is possible their inclusion is part of a narrative informed by missionary colonialism. Nevertheless, the accounts are evidence of reading ability amongst seafaring populations. Indeed, there are numerous instances describing British sailors reading religious texts and discussing the content with chaplains. 

Extracts from the archives reveal how remote seafarers’ lives could be. For example, the honorary chaplain for Plymouth recounts a visit made by himself and female helpers to deliver books to the crew of a lightship. His description suggests such crews had no visitors and welcomed their visit for the conversation and company it brought (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, p.191). Similarly, the description of a visit by a chaplain at Great Grimsby to the lightkeeper and lifeboat crew at Spurn Point states that the inhabitants were 5 miles across sand to the nearest house, that they never had visitors, and the lighthouse keeper complained that ‘no one cares a straw for us poor souls, we may die and the sea bury us for ought others care’ (The Word on the Waters, Vol.1, 1858, pp.85-86). In both instances, the chaplains describe difficulties reaching their destinations and the isolation in which lightkeepers lived. Reading between the lines we can see that missionary staff might have been the only regular company received by some isolated seafarers. 

Final thoughts 

To summarise, the brief entries we find in magazines such as The Word on the Waters can help us reconstruct the lived experience of both British seafarers and sailors of non-British origin. The surviving evidence reveals details of the dangers of life in port, working conditions, literacy, physical welfare, health care, and social contact, in addition to seafarers’ experience of interacting with missionaries. We don’t have space here to consider what conclusions we might draw from such evidence as regards the project’s themes of colonialism, race and religion, but hopefully this quick look has done enough to highlight that missionary magazines are a valuable research resource allowing us to explore these subjects. 

Mariners conference sails away

Posted on by hilary.carey

Researchers from across the UK, the US, Europe, Australia and India came together  in Bristol to talk and debate issues of race, religion and empire among maritime workers on 12-13 September 2024. From the conference venue we enjoyed a view of the iconic ss Great Britain and, on Friday, followed guides around Brunel’s landmark iron passenger liner.

Delegates took a tour of Brunel’s ss Great Britain.

Over seven lively panels, we encountered the trial of an enslaved black seaman in Victorian London (Umberto Garcia), the pre-history of the Cardiff race riots (Hassam Latif), and the religious background to Birkenhead’s Mere Hall Indian Seaman’s Home (Haseeb Khan). For the British strand, there was a touching account of the emotional lives of children in sailors’ orphan homes (Emily Cuming), and the place of Roman Catholics in the Royal Navy (Michael Snape). Workers’ religious politics in late colonial Calcutta were discussed by Prerna Agarwal, and Florian Stadtler  considered the unique record of Aziz Ahmad and his mission to lascars in Scotland. Justine Atkinson took us to Australia, and the diverse seamen’s missions in the colonial port of Newcastle, NSW, while Houda Al-Kateb provided a rivetting account of passengers on the ss Great Britain – a great way to introduce us to the ship beckoning out the window. Ting Ruan spoke on lighthouses in China, drawing attention to the extreme disparity in the salaries of European and local Chinese workers. The two teams for the Mariners project presented on religion, race and the lascar body, and the soul of the sailor in missions to British seamen.

Haseeb Khan on Birkenhead’s Mere Hall Home for Indian Seamen.

The final session was made up of panels, beginning with archivist extraordinaire, Claire Weatherall, enlightening us on the challenges of knowledge exchange for archives and archivisrts, with examples from the Anglican Missions to Seafarers collection at the Hull History Centre. Asif Shakoor gave a moving presentation on the lascar legacy from the point of view of a community historian, and Brad Beaven and Valerie Burton enlightened us with wit and accumulated wisdom as maritime and social historians of port cities.

We have grand plans for publication, and hope to gather these rich contributions to maritime and religious history into a journal special issue as well as blog posts and contributions to the Mariners website.

 

Mariners conference 12-13 September 2024

Posted on by hilary.carey

We are super excited that the Mariners conference is about to kick off at the Brunel Institute of the ss Great Britain.

Delegates are coming from as far afield as Australia, the US, Germany and India to workshop ideas about religion, race and empire with other colleagues.

We hope to keep the event relatively small so as to encourage conversations and exchanges of view, but visitors are welcome so long as you let us know you would like to attend. Requests should be sent to the conference email: mariners.conference2024@bristol.ac.uk.

Here is a link to the full programme:

FINAL Conference programme 030924 (1)

We are planning to publish the papers and will keep you posted about plans for publication.

 

 

 

At the Manchester Crime History conference

Posted on by hilary.carey

It was exciting to attend the British Crime History conference which was held in Manchester, at the Friends Meeting House, on 5-6 September.

This was a great opportunity to meet other teams currently working on British social and cultural history project, using the latest methodologies and approaches, as well as traditional story telling.

There were particular intersections with the Mariners project in papers addressing crime and mobilities, crime and race, and gendered approaches to the past. The Clive Emsley award went to Libby Collard for her remakale paper on mapping the black presence in 18th century criminal justice records, using the mighty Old Bailey online archive to track black witnesses and other participants in the criminal justice process. She concluded that racial demarkation of the city was much less than might be supposed from qualitative sources.

There were also fascinating papers on issues of gender and youth, infanticide, institutionalised girls, sex workers and prisons, and the significance of space and locality for crimes as varied as motor bandits, and timber workers in rural Scotland. Religious themes were pursued by Alexandra Cox and Stuart Sweeney who looked at the religious lives of the those transported to the Americas from the UK and Ireland in the era before convict transportation to Australia.

One highlight for me was the final keynote paper by Hallie Rubenhold, who gave us a prelude to her new book on the notorious Cribben murder case.

My head is spinning with new ideas for approaches by the Mariners team to religion, race and empire in the merchant marine, a world that often intersected with that of criminal justice.

Lighting China’s Coast: The Chinese Maritime Customs and Lighthouse Construction

Posted on by hilary.carey

We are delighted to be able to feature this fascinating piece from Bristol PhD student, Ting Ruan. Ting will be participating in the Mariners conference, coming up on 12-13 September 2024.

Ting writes:

I am a third-year PhD student in the History Department, and my research focuses on China’s coastal lighting construction during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This project involved the dissemination and adaptation of technology and, more broadly, embodied the presence of Britain’s informal empire and the globalisation process of that era. 

China has a long coastline, stretching from its northeastern corner down to its southernmost point, but in the middle of the nineteenth century, it was largely unlit. The lighting was sporadic, and the facilities were primitive, using vegetable oil in lanterns made of oyster shells, which produced only a dull and smoky flame. Consequently, the lack of modern lighting became a major obstacle for foreign vessels approaching China’s waters. Merchants and captains cried out in the press about the losses in property and human lives caused by shipwrecks. 

However, at that time, the Chinese Imperial Court was beset by both internal and external difficulties. Internally, it was plagued by the Taiping Rebellion, which lasted more than ten years and proved to be the largest peasant uprising in Chinese history. . Externally, it contended with European powers, striving to avoid the fate of complete colonisation like some Asian and African countries. Consequently, the Court lacked the resources to systematically build maritime facilities and did not possess the necessary technical personnel. 

At the same time, a pivotal institution in China’s modern era was founded: the Chinese Maritime Customs Service. This institution had a unique characteristic: although it was always a branch of the Chinese government, from its establishment in 1861 until the Communist Party seized power in 1949, all six chief leaders were foreigners. Five were British (until 1943), and the last was an American. Its employees, however, came from as many as 23 countries around the world. Therefore, the Customs Service was a Chinese authority with a distinctly global dimension but was clearly dominated by Britain. 

Another crucial feature of the Chinese Maritime Customs Service is that it went far beyond being a revenue-collecting agency. It was actively involved in a wide range of affairs in China, including diplomacy, military, postal services, meteorology, and education. Notably, it played a significant role in establishing China’s maritime infrastructure. Sir Robert Hart, the second and longest-serving head, was instrumental in making this ambitious project a success. 

image of lighthouse
Dodd Island Lighthouse with the flag of the Republic of China flying alongside, photo taken in the 1930s. Source: Banister, 1932. (Public Domain)

First and foremost was the issue of funding, which was the basis for everything. In 1868, Hart succeeded in securing 70 percent of the tonnage dues for the lighting project, a sum that the Customs retained exclusively for the construction and maintenance of lighthouses. 

For the equipment, Hart, with the support of his loyal assistant James Duncan Campbell, the head of the Customs’ London Office, imported devices and components from Europe and the United States. The second half of the nineteenth century was a critical period in the evolution of lighthouse technology. The rapid development of steamship transportation and the consequent expansion of sea lanes created an increased demand for lighthouses. At the time, France was the world leader in lighthouse technology, with the invention of the Fresnel lens marking a significant breakthrough in the field. Additionally, Chance Brothers, a British company based near Birmingham that initially started as a glass manufacturer, gradually became a competitive producer of illuminating apparatus—specifically, the core component for lighthouses, the lighting device.. The Customs Service introduced sophisticated technologies, ensuring that China’s lighthouses were on par with the world’s advanced standards. By the 1920s, China’s coastline was praised as ‘one of the best lit coasts in the world’ (North China Herald, 11 February 1928). Looking back to the mid-nineteenth century, when foreign merchants and captains heavily complained about China’s lack of marine facilities, this accomplishment cannot be overstated. 

image of lantern from lighthouse
Image: Lantern room made by Chance Brothers for Dodd Island Lighthouse.
Source: Image courtesy of Special Collections, University of Bristol Library (www.hpcbristol.net).

Having advanced equipment was not enough; technical personnel were essential to design the lighthouses and adapt the technologies. This is where engineers were needed. One of the prominent figures in China’s lighthouse construction was an Englishman named David Marr Henderson. He was the Customs’ first engineer-in-chief, serving nearly 30 years in China. Almost all large coastal lighthouses were built under his supervision. He designed and supervised the construction of the greatest number of lighthouses in the world among his contemporaries. Henderson returned to England in 1898 and lived the rest of his life at Hove, East Sussex.. After his departure, the subsequent engineers-in-chief employed by the Customs were all Britons like him; it was not until the end of World War II that the position was held by Chinese engineers.

portrait of man in Edwardian suit
Image: Studio Portrait of David Marr Henderson. Source: Photograph by A. Esmé Collings. Image courtesy of Special Collections, University of Bristol Library (www.hpcbristol.net).

The engineers’ role was in designing and supervising the construction of lighthouses. Once a lighthouse was established, it was the lighthouse keepers who were responsible for its daily operation, ensuring that the light stayed on after sunset and that passing vessels navigated safely. Unlike the engineers, Chinese personnel were involved in the position of lighthouse keepers from an early stage. However, despite Chinese lightkeepers far outnumbering their foreign counterparts, they were largely limited to roles as assistants. Some of them were classed as ‘coolies’, who were not involved in work related to the light but were only assigned chores such as cleaning the house and painting the walls. The Customs was reluctant to appoint Chinese as lightkeepers-in-charge, particularly for large coastal lighthouses, until the 1920s. During this period, nationalist sentiment in China surged, forcing the Customs to adjust its personnel policies by restricting the proportion of foreign staff and promoting Chinese personnel to higher positions; only then were China’s lighthouses gradually placed under Chinese control. 

imgae of lighthouse workers
Image: Lighthouse construction workers. Source: Image courtesy of Special Collections, University of Bristol Library (www.hpcbristol.net).

However, until the outbreak of the Pacific War, a considerable number of large coastal lighthouses were still operated by foreigners. After 1949, when the Communist regime seized power, the history of foreign-controlled Customs came to an end. With only a few exceptions, Westerners were declared unwelcome in this country and driven away. China entered a whole new era. However, the lighthouses still stand along the coastline, guiding passing vessels. With the widespread use of GPS technology, lighthouses in China, as in the rest of the world, gradually lost their practical significance and became more of a tourist attraction. Their unique architectural style, integrated into the vastness of the ocean, soon became a popular holiday landscape, fascinating travellers from all over the world. 

Nevertheless, their history always reminds us of the unique period that China went through and the legacy left even beyond its formal reach by the British Empire. These lighthouses embody the British imperial networks, which facilitated the transfer of technology, the movement of people and commodities, and the integration of different parts of the world into an ever-accelerating interconnected globe. 

References: 

  1. ‘The Lights of the China Coast’, North China Herald, 11 February, p. 239.

Banister, T. Roger. 1932. The Coastwise Lights of China: An Illustrated Account of the Chinese Maritime Customs Light Service (Shanghai: Statistical Department of the Inspectorate General of Chinese Customs) 

Wright, Stanley F. 1952. Hart and the Chinese Customs (Belfast: Wm Mullan) 

China. Maritime Customs. Reports on Lights, Buoys, and Beacons, 1875–1947 (Shanghai: Statistical Department of the Inspectorate General of Customs) 

Chen, Xiafei and Han Rongfang (eds). 1990–1993. Archives of China’s Imperial Maritime Customs: Confidential Correspondence Between Robert Hart and James Duncan Campbell, 1874–1907 (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press) 

Resources: 

Chance, Toby and Peter Williams. 2008. Lighthouses: The Race to Illuminate the World (London: New Holland Publishers) 

Levitt, Theresa. 2013. A Short, Bright Flash: Augustin Fresnel and the Birth of the Modern Lighthouse (New York: W. W. Norton & Company) 

Van de Ven, Hans. 2014. Breaking with the Past: The Maritime Customs Service and the Global Origins of Modernity in China (New York: Columbia University Press).

The Salvation Navy, 1885-1888

Posted on by hilary.carey

I am the Director of The Salvation Army International Heritage Centre which holds the archives, reference library and other heritage items relating to this international church and charity. As well as caring for these collections and providing access to them, my colleagues and I also research aspects of Salvation Army history. The existence of a Salvation Navy in the 1880s isn’t well known, even within our own history, and it’s a story that I’ve been keen to highlight for some time.

This year, 2024, is the 150th anniversary of the Salvation Army opening its first chapel in Wales. Part of the celebrations of this has been to find stories from our work in Wales over the years. So I decided to look in more detail at the Salvation Navy, whose ships were given by a Cardiff industrialist and which we knew held evangelical meetings in Cardiff dock.

The Heritage Centre holds a small archive of original documents and photographs relating to the Salvation Navy, as well as supporting information in contemporary Salvation Army periodicals, primarily the weekly newspaper, The War Cry. I was surprised, therefore, to discover how little anyone know about the actual history and detail of the Salvation Navy. The official History of The Salvation Army only includes the most basic details and our own catalogue records included little more detail, for instance we knew nothing about the later years of the Salvation Navy and had no date for when it was wound up. I supplemented our records with contemporary newspaper reports from the British Newspaper Archive and have been able, for the first time, to piece together the story of The Salvation Navy.

That story begins in August 1885 when the first flagship of The Salvation Navy was launched. The SS Iole’s three masts flew the Salvation Army colours of red, blue and yellow, alongside flags bearing the words ‘Are you Saved’ and ‘Holiness unto the Lord’. Her sails carried the monogram ‘SN’ for Salvation Navy. The Iole was described by her first commander as looking ‘like a bird on the water.’  (‘Description’ 4)

The Salvation Army had been founded by William and Catherine Booth in 1865. In 1884, the Booths were offered the Iole, a 100ft steam yacht, by one of their wealthier supporters- John Cory, a coal broker and ship-owner from Cardiff, who had originally bought the yacht for his wife. It was described as ‘a little gem, perfect in all her appointments, which are, indeed, almost too luxurious for salvationists.’ in the Salvation Army’s magazine All the World (‘S. S. Iole’ 19)

The crew of the SS Iole was assembled from Officers (ministers) and Soldiers (members) of the Salvation Army with nautical backgrounds. Command of the Iole was given to ‘ex-Admiral’ Sherrington Foster who had been master of the Hartlepool lifeboat. The purpose of the Salvation Navy was “to visit every fishing town and seaport village along the English, Irish, Scotch and Welsh coast, boarding every vessel when lying in any roadstead, giving Bibles and good books, preaching Christ, and doing all in our power to get the sailors and fishermen of our country converted.”  The Salvation Army’s newspaper, The War Cry,  dramatically stated that the Iole had been ‘chartered by the King of Kings to go on a fishing expedition for men’ (‘Our Navy’ 13)

Image of ship
Print. S. S. ‘Iole, July 1885 [Salvation Army International Heritage Centre, SN/3]
The Iole began its evangelical campaign in the Channel Islands and then made her way to ports on the English Channel. In early 1886 she was on the Cornish and Devonian coast where ‘vast crowds were assembled on pier and beach, whilst from the deck of the little vessel the yacht’s crew, assisted by the local Corps where there was one, proclaimed salvation to all sorts and conditions of men.’  (‘The Salvation Navy’ 159)

While attempts to secure a second ship for the Salvation Navy were unsuccessful, ‘Naval Brigades’ were established in the communities it worked amongst. Ships whose captains and crews were made up of Salvationists were encouraged to fly the Salvation Army colours and to ‘labour specially for the salvation of their fellows of the deep’ (‘The Salvation Navy’ 159). A pamphlet of Salvation Navy Songs was published for use by the Brigades.

In the summer of 1886 the Iole was visiting East Anglian ports when disaster struck as the Iole was sailing for Hull. On the evening of 11 June 1886, she struck a sandbank in the Humber and the crew had to row ashore in the lifeboat. It was reported that, the next morning, ‘at dead low water only two or three feet of the Iole’s funnel was to be seen’ (‘General Booth’s Yacht’ 2).

The Salvation Navy was without a ship for some seven months until John Cory again came to the rescue and gave an 82 foot racing yacht, the Vestal, to Booth. This became known as the ‘Salvation Gun-Boat’. Although the Vestal was ‘awaiting orders’ in a Southampton shipyard in February 1887, she had to await significant repairs before she could be launched on 5 April (‘Yachting’ 7. Her first captain was Abbot Taylor, previously the ‘skipper of a Brixham smack’ (The Salvation Navy Yacht 3). The Vestal continued the evangelical work that had been carried out by the Iole, visiting Bridport and Watchet in July and carrying out an evangelical campaign along the south Wales coast in the winter, spending Christmas 1887 in Cardiff Dock.

Photo of Salvation Army officers
Crew of the Vestal, 1888 [Salvation Army International Heritage Centre, SN/3]
However then, in February 1888, the Vestal was badly damaged in a collision with another   vessel in the Thames. It seems the ship, and her crew, never fully recovered. Despite plans to sail to Cornwall, the Vestal remained on the Sussex coast throughout the summer of 1888, delayed by costly repairs and the illness of Captain Taylor. Adverts in The War Cry also show a shortage of crew, asking for ‘Captain and Mate, with a good knowledge of the Coast, well saved and able to lead Salvation meetings. Also two Able-bodied Seamen, One Ordinary Seaman, a Cook and Steward. Must in each case be well saved men’ (Wanted 7).

Image of cover of Songs of Seatime
Pamphlet, ‘Songs of the Sea of Time as Sung by the crew of the Salvation Gun-Boat ‘Vestal,’ 1887 [Salvation Army International Heritage Centre, SN/1]
The last known report from the Vestal is in October 1888 when Captain Taylor was preaching about their work at the corps in East Grinstead, while the ship was lying at Portslade. Which may imply that the coastal work was not at that time taking place and that the Vestal had been limiting its activities to the Sussex coast since May.

While the Salvation Navy may only have been short-lived, it shows General Booth and the Salvation Army learning from and developing the missions to mariners that had been active since early in the century. The militaristic language and embellished metaphors illustrate the dynamic innovations of The Salvation Army in the 1880s.

By Steven Spencer, Salvation Army International Heritage Centre

Sources

  1. ‘Description of our Salvation Stream Yacht ‘Iole.’ Rough report by Staff-Captain Foster’, The War Cry, 17 June, p. 4.
  2. ‘General Booth’s Yacht Sunk in the Humber,’ Norwich Mercury, 16 June, p. 2.

Booth, William. 1886. Orders and Regulations for Field Officers of The Salvation Army (International Headquarters of The Salvation Army), p. 569.

  1. ‘The Salvation Navy,’ The Salvation War, p. 159.
  2. ‘The Salvation Navy Yacht Vestal,’ Western Daily Press, 17 September, p. 3.
  3. ‘S. S. Iole,’All the World, January, p. 19.
  4. ‘Our Navy,’ The War Cry, 6 March, p. 13.
  5. ‘Wanted for the Salvation Yacht Vestal,’ The War Cry, 19 May, p. 7.
  6. ‘Yachting,’ The Hampshire Independent, 26 February, p. 7.