One of the first
episodes to draw the attention of the British public to the coronavirus was the
quarantining of a cruise ship in Yokohama. Passengers were locked in their
cabins and interviewed by Skype for TV news. We sympathized with their boredom,
monotonous food and, above all, their fear of the spreading infection. I have
recently been reading a good deal about Spanish navigation from Acapulco,
Mexico, to Manila, Philippines, in the 16th and 17th
centuries.
Artist's impression of two galleons |
Cutaway drawing of a Manila galleon |
A 1628 view of Acapulco |
Once a year two
galleons set out for Manila in the spring and returned to Acapulco just before
Christmas. Tides and prevailing winds made the return much longer than the
outward journey, sometimes as much as six or seven months. This on a crowded
wooden vessel, with no internet, no on-board entertainment, no lights, no air-conditioning
or heating, no showers, no toilets. As regards the latter function one simply
hung one’s bottom, in view of a few hundred others, over the side of the
vessel, endeavouring not to fall into the ocean. A French scholar has estimated
that about half of deaths during a galleon’s journey were the result of
drowning, whether from failed lavatorial poses she does not speculate. And
there were storms, shipwrecks, leaks and English pirates to worry about.
On most journeys a
number of crew also died from disease. This is not surprising. Social distancing
was impossible. Water was for drinking, not for washing hands while singing
Happy Birthday twice. Most galleons had on board some chickens (for eggs) and
some cattle for meat. Droppings and other livestock emissions did not promote
hygiene, nor pleasant odours. Otherwise, the diet was rice, olive oil,
chickpeas, biscuit (brown for the crew, white for officers and dignitaries),
salt pork and salted fish, cheese, raisins, water and wine. And chocolate,
which tended not attract maggots like other foods.
The passengers had no
on-board tasks, and even the sailors needed a break from work, as days merged
into one long sameness. Perhaps this feeling is one we can share in April 2020.
However, there were many forms of entertainment. The most regular was mealtimes.
The day began at first light with a breakfast of bread, wine and salt pork. Lunch
and dinner while light lasted helped to break up the day. Lesser mortals ate with
a spoon, sitting on their sea chests. The crew was organized into groups united
by family ties and/or by town of origin, so meals were sociable. Officers sat
on chairs at tables with tablecloths.
Cards and dice were
common amusements. Gambling was illegal but difficult to stamp out. Music was
another popular amusement, perhaps a song or two accompanied by a guitar or
vihuela. One galleon in the 1590s carried five slave musicians from Mozambique,
Java and India, with a selection of European and Indian instruments, purchased
by a wealthy resident of Mexico City to entertain him and his guests. As an old
publisher, I was glad to discover that reading was popular (some one third of
the crew were literate). Devotional tomes were common, but there were also
literary works such as the Cantar de Mío Cid, an epic poem describing
the heroic feats of the Cid Campeador (“Battling Leader”), Rodrigo Díaz
de Vivar, against the Moors.
Fishing was popular,
sometimes for food, sometimes for entertainment. There are accounts of sharks
being caught, tormented and then thrown back into the sea to watch their death
throes.
There were mock bull
fights and sword battles. Theatrical performances and sketches were popular.
One performance in 1678-1679 was described for theatrical history:
“The sailors, dressed
comically, form a tribunal and brings as prisoners all the important people on
the galleon, beginning with the general, and each is tried. This caused much
amusement. This was a festive day. Then the prisoners were condemned and
sentenced, one to give the crew chocolate, another biscuits, another sweets.”
These performances were given on the day that first signs of approaching land
were spotted, so the comedy was a way to release the tension and boredom of
months at sea. Such was the release of attention that even the most important
man on board was willing to be made fun of. Dramas and comic sketches were
staged more frequently when somebody really important was on board, such as the
new Viceroy of the Philippines, the Marquis of Villena, in 1640.
Monument in Manila recalling the 250 years of the Manila galleon trade |
We are learning in the
current crisis that the National Theatre, the Royal Opera House, the Metropolitan
Opera, and other arts performances online, a well-stocked home library, a
garden if we are lucky, a carefully selected drinks cabinet, and video calls to
friends and family, are all extremely helpful in our isolation. Not to mention
a good gin for my Friday night martini. Would we have coped quite so well on
board the Manila-Acapulco galleon?
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