The Victualling Board had issued instructions on the cutting and salting of meat as early as 1716, and despite a steady stream of people offering to sell their ‘new, better and secret’ methods of doing this, reissued the same instructions at regular intervals. There is no great secret to salting meat, for the procedure is simple. First you cut the meat into suitable pieces: for the navy this was four pounds for beef, two pounds for pork (or sometimes double that weight, these being referred to as ‘double’ pieces). This task was done by ‘randers’ and ‘messers’ in a sort of production line. Some historians have erroneously changed what they thought was a spelling error, calling the first worker a ‘render’, presumably on the basis that he ‘rends’ the meat, but a rander is one who cuts meat into strips and a messer one who cuts it into smaller pieces. At this point you might wonder how they achieved accuracy, but of course if they did the job continuously they soon acquired the ability to judge weight by hand and eye. No-one expected each piece to weigh exactly the stated weight: the instructions for checking the weight of the contents of a cask say:
And to judge whether the flesh served to His Majesty’s ships holds out in just weight, the following rule is to be observed, viz. Every twenty-eight pieces of beef cut for four pound pieces, taken out of the cask as they rise, and the salt shaken off, are to weigh one hundred pounds avoirdupois, and every fifty-six pieces of pork, cut for two pound pieces, and taken out and shaken in the like manner, are to weigh one hundred and four pounds; and therefore, if, according to this standard, upon the weighing a whole cask of beef or pork, in the presence of two or more of the warrant officers of the ship, there shall be found a deficiency of weight, the captain may order the purser to issue to the seamen so much more beef or pork as shall make up the deficiency;…13
There is another example of the scrupulous fairness of the Victualling Board: being perfectly aware that there are different qualities of meat on a carcass, their master butchers were instructed to cut the prime pieces slightly small and the other pieces slightly large, thus dividing it ‘in the most equitable manner’.14
There must still have been some small pieces left over and one wonders what happened to them – perhaps they were packed into special casks and marked accordingly. Inevitably some of these small pieces went home in the workers’ pockets, a practice which was known and accepted, as long as the pieces were not too large. Small scraps were probably sold to the same people who bought the offal and other by-products such as heads, feet and bones. The contracts for outside suppliers and the instructions for packing meat in the Victualling Board’s own yards stipulated that these were not to be included, nor beef legs or shins. We will see what the Victualling Board did with the shin meat later on.
The meat having been cut up into appropriate pieces, the salting process could begin. Although they would not have been aware of it in these terms at that time, the salting process, having first drawn out much of the water in the meat, combines with the rest and makes it unavailable for bacteria to feed on. Saltpetre (potassium nitrate), which was used at the time, was thought to aid the penetration of the salt and co-incidentally give the meat a uniform pink colour. It also, unfortunately, tends to harden the meat over time; to counteract this, people salting meat for home use often added sugar. The first part of the process was to rub the pieces of meat with the dry salt and saltpetre mix, then lay them in a bin and cover them with more dry salt. As the salt drew out the water from the meat, the resultant brine was drawn off, poured back over the meat and more salt added, this being done twice a day for six days. Then the meat was packed into barrels with more dry salt between the layers and left to stand for several days. This extracted more liquid, so the cask was then turned on its side with the open bung-hole at the bottom and given twenty-four hours to drain, before the bung was replaced and the cask filled with strong brine. The simple test for brine strength was that the meat should float.15
Victualling agents and pursers were instructed to check all meat casks when they were received, to ensure that none of the brine had escaped, topping them up if necessary. Salt meat, when removed from its cask, was wet, which gives the lie to stories of its being hard and glistening with salt crystals. If the brine leaked out, the meat did not dry up, it rotted; there are many reports of meat being condemned as uneatable because the brine had leaked. Once sealed, each cask was marked with the contents and a unique number which enabled its source to be identified if it was sub-standard. Although in theory meat casks were meant to contain a standard number of pieces, entries in logbooks made when the casks were opened show that many did not, some having more pieces than marked, some less.
Although the standard sizes of meat pieces may have been fixed to tally with the number of men in an average mess, they were also of a size which allowed the salt to penetrate right through the meat. With over-large pieces of meat, the salt will not penetrate and the meat will putrefy. This, combined with poor-quality salt and over-large barrels, caused a major fuss in 1804 over a consignment of meat from Russia intended for the navy in the Mediterranean and the army based at Malta. The story starts with St Vincent (now the First Lord of the Admiralty) agreeing with Nicholas Vansittart of the Treasury that it would be a good idea to obtain some provisions from ‘the Russian provinces’, thus helping to cement the relationship with Russia. An agent, one William Eton, was sent to the Black Sea port of Odessa to organise some supplies, including hemp and made-up cordage and sailcloth, and at the same time to make a bulk purchase of wheat, pease and meat. Nelson, who was commander-in-chief in the Mediterranean at this time, was informed and told to arrange for transports to collect the provisions and take them to Malta. For some reason which is not known, Nelson was violently opposed to the idea, or at any rate opposed to Eton, remarking in a letter to William Otway, the naval commissioner at Gibraltar, ‘I never saw Mr Eaton [sic], but my opinion of him was formed some years ago; and from all I hear I have no reason to alter it. He is, as Burke said of a noble Marquis “a giant in promises, a pigmy in performance”,’ and later, ‘I agree perfectly with you respecting Mr Eaton, and we must watch what comes from him; for first samples are, with knowing ones, always the best…’. Elsewhere, he referred to Eton rather rudely as ‘this sort of gentry’ and insisted that when the supplies finally arrived in Malta they should be inspected and tested before acceptance. However, Nelson did not pass up the opportunity to send a lieutenant with the transports to gather trade and military intelligence on the Russian provinces round the Black Sea.
In due course, the first shipload of provisions arrived in Malta, and were inspected and sampled by the masters of three naval ships; the pease and wheat were declared good but the pork, tongues and hogs’ lard were not (there was no mention of beef). Nelson wrote to the Admiralty secretary on the lines of ‘I told you so’ and ordered the agent victualler at Malta to accept the wheat and pease and sell off the meat for whatever it would fetch. Eton, when he heard of this, wrote to excuse himself, explaining that the decision to send him had been delayed to the point where he arrived too late to buy the best of the animals on the hoof; the meat had already been packed, having been cut it into over-large pieces, using inadequate quantities of inferior dirty salt and put into over-large casks. When he had explained and demonstrated the proper way to do it, the local Russian general was, Eton said, so impressed by the results that he wanted Eton to stay and teach the local workers how to do it ‘the English way’. As a result, the next batch would be much better, as long as his instructions to buy were not delayed again.
Eton was also corresponding with Sir John Borlase Warren, who was at that time the British ambassador to Russia at St Petersburg. Some of this correspondence consisted of intelligence reports but most of it concerned his purchases for the navy and his relationship with another agent, Henry Lavage Yeames, who had taken on some of the purchasing task. This relationship soon fell into disarray, each man accusing the other of incompetence, stupidity, cupidity, and generally erratic behaviour
. Eton, apparently, made a practice of flying into a violent temper whenever crossed: ‘…his conduct,’ said Yeames, ‘has been uniformly as if he intended to destroy the British credit here’. Both agents sent detailed memoranda to Warren, pleading for his intervention, and in Eton’s case, also pleading for those instructions to buy more supplies.
These were not forthcoming. Warren had resigned his post and gone home and the Victualling Board were not pleased with Eton. As well as buying the actual provisions themselves, he had also taken the unauthorised decision to buy ‘the Great Baths at Caffa’ to use as a storehouse; by the time he had had this building repaired, the cost had risen to over £1700. ‘Except for the wheat and pease,’ the Victualling Board wrote to the Admiralty, ‘our judgement is that Mr Eton’s mission to Russia has not been attached with any advantages to the service of this department.’ Even then, the saga was not finished. Russia changed sides and embargoed all British property, including the bathhouse at Caffa and its contents. Then Russia changed sides again, and the Victualling Board, now trying to finalise Eton’s accounts, reported to the Admiralty that the bathhouse had been demolished to make way for other buildings, and its contents had been sent for the use of the Russian navy at Sevastopol, so there seemed no point in keeping Mr Eton’s account open any longer. They owed him £849.17.2¼, but suggested that before they paid him, perhaps they should make sure he did not owe money to any other of the naval departments, or any other government body. The Admiralty agreed, suggesting that since Eton had also purchased cordage and sailcloth, the Navy Board was the first place to check; it seems that Mr Eton’s reputation had caught up with him and he had become generally unpopular everywhere.16
Salt meat was all very well, but fresh beef was thought to be better. It did not have to be steeped to get rid of the salt, and although the stories about aged salt beef being hard enough to carve into snuff boxes were probably exaggerated, there can be no denying that it does become tougher as it ages; this problem does not occur with fresh beef. But the real consideration at the time was that it was thought that salt food caused scurvy, this being one of the reasons for dropping salt fish from the naval ration. Finally, it had become traditional for vegetables to be served with fresh meat when in port, which was obviously popular with the men. Fresh beef was declared to be equal in weight to salt beef, and slightly less so than pork: the rule here was three pounds of fresh beef for two pounds of salt pork with pease. Judging by log reports of receipts of fresh beef when in port, it was served almost every day, at a rate of one pound per man. Gibraltar, with her 600-man complement, received daily deliveries of fresh meat averaging 590 pounds.17 According to William Dillon, when his ship was at Spithead in 1794, it had to be collected from the slaughterhouse early in the morning (often as early as 2am) on a ‘first come, first served’ basis. It was cut into quarters – a piece which can be carried on the shoulder of a strong man – and as Dillon learned to his cost, it was necessary to keep a close eye on it all the time; on one occasion a whole quarter disappeared between the slaughterhouse and the boat.18
The other method of providing fresh beef was to carry live cattle on board ship and slaughter them as needed. This was a common practice and had the advantage of allowing salt provisions to be saved for times when no fresh was available. It may not always be possible to find a port with a supply of salt meat, but if you can get within boat-reach of land you can usually find a merchant or farmer to sell you some cattle (or sheep or pigs); even if you are nominally at war with the country, as long as there is no military presence and you have specie for payment, pragmatism tends to override patriotism. In 1805 Cornwallis’ fleet blockading Brest found that the inhabitants of the islands off Brittany were perfectly happy to sell them live cattle and other fresh provisions.19 Carrying live cattle was only practical on a short-term basis since cattle do not stand up well to long sea journeys, as was found during the American War of Independence when attempts were made to send live cattle across the Atlantic. Of one shipment of 290 cattle, only 105 were still alive on arrival, and the attempt was abandoned as being both impractical and expensive.20
By 1800, most commanders-in-chief were convinced that fresh meat was essential for maintaining the health of the seamen; Nelson was fanatical about it, being firmly convinced that excessive salt was one of the causes of scurvy. When he was in the Baltic in 1801, he had arranged for one of the senior pursers to obtain fresh meat and cattle for his squadron, and when he took over the Mediterranean command in 1803, he took great pains to obtain live beasts. His first attempts to do this by organising supplies himself or through his captains were not entirely successful. His method was to appeal to the consuls at Naples, Barcelona and the Maddalena Islands; although these gentlemen tried, most of these dealings came to nothing, partly due to difficulties of collection and unacceptable prices, partly due to poor communications. In one case, Captain Keats had been in contact with an ex-army officer called Archibald MacNeill in Naples, who offered to supply beasts on a monthly basis starting in September. This offer was accepted and Nelson ordered transports to collect the cattle, but when he heard no more, cancelled the transports. The following January he received a letter from MacNeill saying he had instructed his partner, Warrington, to organise the bullocks, but again there was no further contact until June when a letter arrived from Warrington saying 100 beasts were ready to collect. By this time Nelson had made other arrangements, so he agreed to collect this set of cattle but that was the end of the deal. While all this was going on, Nelson had been using the services of a senior purser to organise supplies of cattle, first from the Barcelona area and then, when the Spanish seemed ready to join Napoleon and declare war against Britain, from the Maddalena Islands at the north end of Sardinia.
These islands had good anchorages and were reasonably close to the main cruising grounds off Toulon. Apart from the times when several ships arrived together at the islands, the procedure was for one of the larger ships, usually a Third Rate, to go off and pick up a substantial number of beasts then distribute them among the squadron on her return.21 When the individual ships only received a few cattle at a time, they seem to have slaughtered them soon after receipt: the log books show ‘received x bullocks’ on one day, and ‘killed x bullocks, weight xxx pounds’ either later on the same day or on the next. When they received larger numbers, they also recorded receipt of ‘fodder’ or ‘hay, then recorded the numbers killed and their weight, a few at a time, over the next week or so. But sometimes they kept them longer, reporting large numbers taken on board over a couple of days, then batches of them being killed over several weeks.
These cattle, with a few exceptions, were bullocks and all were the animals we think of now as cattle (ie, the domestic ‘cow’, Bos taurus). Admiral Pellew, when commander-in-chief in the East Indies, insisted that neither live buffaloes (Bubalus bubalis, the Asian water buffalo) nor their meat were to be accepted; other commanders-in-chief and the Victualling Board itself stated that heifer beef was not acceptable. Even so, a few cows did sneak through the system, usually with a calf at foot. There are several log entries which show this, followed by a report of killing an animal which weighed so little it can only have been the calf; these may have gone to the sickbay. Perhaps the idea was to provide milk but it would have needed a crew member capable of persuading the cow to let down her milk – not always an easy task if she is not used to being milked.
What is noticeable when studying these log reports of killing cattle is the great disparity in weights, beasts producing anything between 140 and 675 pounds of meat. This was not a random thing, but more or less related to where they came from. The lightest mostly came from the Maddalena Islands and Sardinia itself, the heaviest from Italy, especially from Naples. (John James, one of the consuls who had offered to supply cattle from Naples remarked that the average weight of the Calabrian cattle he was offering would be 540 pounds.) Although the weight of a beast is influenced by its age, and what we now call ‘management syst
ems’ (ie where it is kept and how it is fed), these different weight ranges when associated with locations indicate that we are considering different breeds of cattle. It has not been possible to find out exactly what breeds these cattle were but there are modern British equivalents: Herefords are quite large, Dexters are very small.
It is actually incorrect to refer to these Georgian-age cattle as ‘breeds’: strictly speaking, a breed is the product of selective reproduction in controlled conditions, with that breeding recorded in a herd book, something which was not done until later in the nineteenth century. The correct term is a ‘landrace’ (not to be confused with the modern pig breed of that name), a type of animal which has adapted over time to the local conditions. So, given that Sardinia is a mountainous country with sparse grazing, it is not surprising that its cattle would be small, and that countries with flatter areas of good grass, such as southern Italy, would have larger cattle. Another consideration is that goods tend to be moved around mountains by agile pack animals such as mules, and in flatter terrain on carts drawn by placid traction animals such as neutered cattle, which are also in demand for ploughing. These tasks require not only placidity but strength, which means they must be large and carry a lot of muscle. Examples of what are now known as ‘traction cattle’ include Charolais, Simmenthal and the enormous Italian Chianina. How these cattle, and the sheep which accompanied them, were kept on board, despatched and butchered, will be discussed in Chapter 3.
Although mutton was listed as a substitute meat (three pounds of mutton being equal to four pounds of salt beef or two pounds of pork with pease), no examples of it being received have been found by the author, other than in the form of live ‘sheep for the sick’. We do not know exactly what was meant by the term ‘sheep’. Although there was a type of mouflon in Sardinia and Corsica (Ovis musimon), these would not have been domesticated and the sheep bought by the navy would thus have been the local landrace of the domestic sheep (Ovis aries), and probably mature animals. The concept of a one-year-old lamb being raised for its meat is a modern one: sheep, then, were too valuable as producers of wool or milk and cheese to kill them at the ‘young, tender and easily digested’ stage. Milk-fed or sucking lambs were an Easter delicacy on the continent but these would mostly have been males of the milk breeds, which carry very little wool; milk-fed lamb was rarely eaten in England where the sheep were mostly wool breeds. So a sheep for meat would be a mature animal and its meat would be the gamey mutton, not the more easily-digested meat of a juvenile. Although mutton broth was thought to be a good restorative for the sick, it is hard to see how it would have been any better than beef broth.
Feeding Nelson's Navy Page 3
