The Deadliest Enemy (I)

The award-winning cover of the book “Relação da Primeira Viagem em Torno do Mundo — António Pigafetta”, translated by Joana Lima, represents the number of crew members sailed and returned after Magellan’s voyage.

At first glance, one can be shocked by great number of people who perished during the voyage. However, knowing the conditions onboard during oceanic navigation, I’m surprised that even 18 people managed to come back. And I’m not thinking about the dangers of navigating unknown oceans or fighting in mysterious lands, I’m talking about the worst enemy of the age of discoveries: scurvy.

Scurvy, a disease caused by a serious ascorbic acid (vitamin C) deficiency, killed more sailors than the combination of other diseases, piracy, war, and shipwrecks. For centuries, it has scourged fleets from every country, influencing the course of history. Given the impossibility of preserving fresh food for more than a few weeks, eating fruits and vegetables was a rare event on ships, only possible when disembarking for refuel. Together with the poor diet that characterized the poorest segment of the population, from which many sailors came, this meant that early symptoms of scurvy manifested themselves in the crew within just a few weeks from departure. One of the first symptoms is weakness, so that many crew members started to find working very hard. They were therefore accused of being lazy and punished accordingly.

In a short time, tiredness and sore arms and legs gave way to more severe symptoms like bleeding gums, loosened teeth, bleeding from the skin, change in personality. For a long time, many cures were tried, like vitriol, vinegar and seawater, that were useless or even made the disease worse.

Page from the journal of Henry Walsh Mahon showing the effects of scurvy, from his time aboard HM Convict Ship Barrosa (1841/2)

The scarce hygiene largely contributed to exacerbate the situation, favouring infections, and further degrading the health and quality of life of travellers.

Surprisingly, knowledge of how to prevent and cure scurvy has been present in different times and places, but it was largely ignored for a long time… TBC! [Silvana Munzi]

Daybook of (part of) the RUTTER Crew in Oxford

In April, we had the opportunity to visit Oxford and take part in the postgraduate conference organized by the British Society for the History of Science. Our panel focused on navigation, and we were there to present the individual research projects we have been working on with RUTTER. The conference showcased exceptional presentations of high quality, and the atmosphere was incredibly welcoming, while maintaining a strong emphasis on academic rigour.

During our leisure time, we received a recommendation to explore the charming city of Oxford, a suggestion that we eagerly embraced! It is a city that captivates with its beauty, and every corner reveals a rich history encapsulated by its walls and imponent buildings. Accompanied by local students, we had the privilege of visiting several colleges, where they regaled us with fascinating tales about the city and vividly depicted the vibrant academic atmosphere that permeates this place.

Merton College, Oxford

While walking from Christ Church College to Merton College, we heard an interesting story. As many know, there is an ongoing debate about which college holds the title of “oldest” in Oxford. Merton and Balliol are two contenders in this competition. Merton College puts forth a compelling argument by pointing out that it incorporates one of the ancient city walls of Oxford. This suggests that in the event of an attack on Oxford, Merton students would be called upon to defend the wall. Of course, it's not expected for Merton students, who come to study, to assume the role of soldiers. However, this tradition has endured, meaning that theoretically, Merton students would be tasked with its defence if the wall were under threat. A few years ago, during a snowy day, a student from Balliol initiated an amusing incident by launching snowballs at Merton's wall. In response, Merton students had no choice but to defend the wall, resulting in a lively snowball fight with historical implications.

Through these and other stories, we had the opportunity to acquaint ourselves with the various colleges, libraries, and museums. It provided us with valuable insights into a culture that deeply appreciates history, tradition, and a commitment to academic excellence. [Carmo Lacerda & Inês Bénard]

Life is a Voyage

Life is a voyage. From Homer and Virgil to Dante and Cervantes, could one think of a more timeless metaphore in Western culture? Traced by joy and pain, the route from birth to death, such different places, is not without risk of transforming someone along the way. The unsafety and the uncertainty of travelling from one space to another – a movement of growth, gaining knowledge, and being saved in the end if following the correct path – are at the core of every voyage. A classic, given the verisimilitude of its representation of human life, this literary trope can be found in the opening lines of Ioannes Princeps Tragoedia (1558), by Portuguese Neo-Latin writer Diogo de Teive (c. 1514-1565):

“As the small boat, in the fury of the sea, is a toy of the cruel Notus and, because of huge waves, is unable to maintain the rhumb, a weak spirit wounded by pain is agitated in distressing worries, no rest is offered to the insecure heart, and no consolation receives the saddened soul.”

Foreshadowing the death of João Manuel, Prince of Portugal (1537-1554) – the last surviving son of King John III’s nine children, deceased at 16 years old, right before the birth of his only child, the future King Sebastian of Portugal (1554-1578) –, this comparison of the human suffering to a rudderless vessel portrays how a feeling of being adrift may have existed in the Portuguese court during the second half of the sixteenth century. There seems to be a fear that the life of the kingdom is in danger of losing its course by being engulfed in a succession crisis.

Painting of João Manuel, Prince hereditary of Portugal, by the workshop of Anthonis Mor (1552)

Besides the political problem, this comparison conveys something intriguing. In a time when Portuguese literature is laced with nautical rhetoric, this tragedy is not. In a neoclassical fashion, Teive uses the Greek mythical Notus – god of the Sirocco wind causing storms and sinkings in the Mediterranean Sea – to describe a maritime voyage where there are no instruments and techniques that could help the boat maintain its rhumb. The fragility of the hereditary prince’s lifeline is not only depicted by the comparison but also by the absence of science and technology in this symbolic route. Portuguese Early Modern playwriters often used the image of astrolabes and magnetic needles to portray the human ability to overcome tribulations and to accomplish a path. Unlike a planned oceanic voyage, guided by instruments and regiments that help find the vessel’s way when lost, there is no safe and successful arrival to the destination in the life of João Manuel – to be the King of Portugal. His route came to no salvation in the end. [Joana Lima]

“Ipse dixit”: The Experienced Pilot

“¿Qué ruta podrán llevar más acertada que por donde guio tan experimentado piloto?
(“What route could be more certain than the one led by such an experienced pilot?)”

This quotation comes from the Spanish book Diálogo sobre la necesidad y obligación y provecho de la oración y divinos loores vocales (Dialogue on the need, duty and benefit of vocal prayer and praises), authored by Fray Juan de la Cruz (Saint John of the Cross), and published in Salamanca in 1555. While the sentence may initially evoke imagery of maritime routes, its meaning in context differs significantly, as it is part of a broader discourse on seeking spiritual perfection.

The metaphorical essence of the sentence is intriguing, as it employs specific nautical imagery, such as guiding a ship and tracing a route. These associations prove how encounters with the sea were normalized and integrated into various aspects of life, even in unexpected contexts. The author employs the experience of a pilot as an effective means to describe the actions of God in relation to human life, implying a long and arduous journey towards perfection.

Throughout the centuries in which society lived immersed in a reality where the human and the divine, the visible and the invisible, blended seamlessly, oceanic long-distance voyages became embedded in everyday language and permeated European culture. Within this framework, I wanted to draw attention to the indirect testimonies of oceanic pilots, or at least their end applications.

Texts from the 16th century, spanning various genres, abound with expressions related to experienced Iberian pilots. The Jesuit Father José de Acosta, for instance, referred to them as “masters of art” and engaged in fruitful conversations with them. Furthermore, Father Acosta sought to understand the technical aspects of navigation and devoted a substantial portion of his book, Historia natural y moral de las Indias (Sevilla, 1590), to discussing the variation of the needle. He based his explanations on insights provided by an anonymous but highly skilled Portuguese pilot. Similar assertions are given also by the cosmographer Andrés de Céspedes in his Regimiento de navegación (Madrid: 1606) regarding terrestrial magnetism and the northeasting of the needles. His primary sources were pilots, especially the renowned pilot major Vicente Rodrigues. In Céspedes’ words:

“Vicente Rodrigues, a Portuguese pilot who excelled in the India Run and had made fourteen voyages to the Portuguese India, told me that from the moment they passed the Cape of Good Hope until they reached Goa, the compass needle always northeasted with increasing angles. And this is what all the other pilots say.”

While there is no factual confirmation of the specific conversations Father Acosta had with pilots, these affirmations acknowledge, on a deeper level, the commonly accepted reputation of pilots as reliable eyewitnesses. Whether considered as myth, a literary trope, or not, it is likely that many of the keys to the treasure chest of oceanic knowledge were transmitted through informal and unwritten channels. Returning to the initial excerpt, the parallelism between the maritime journey, the spiritual path, and the turbulent waters of life may not have been a novelty, yet the metaphorical power of the skilled pilot’s voyage grew increasingly profound with each passing decade of navigating the vast oceans. [Luana Giurgevich]

Biscuit fot the Navy Fleet II

“Wheat biscuits are the best, because rye and barley are more humid and colder, and their bread takes on more mould and spoils sooner” (F. Oliveira). Prepared with yeast, salt, and a little less water than everyday bread, and kneaded in large quantities with hand- and feet-power, often by slaves, it was rolled out like huge round cookies, with varying diameters, on a measured plate. Before being placed in the oven, it was pricked with a kind of fork or a larger instrument with spikes, to help release gases during cooking. Cooking was repeated to remove as much moisture as possible (one or more times).

The amount to be distributed daily to each sailor would be around half a kilo, the amount with which the loading for the ships was calculated, multiplied by the number of sailors and days foreseen for the trip. Great care was taken with storage in barrels to avoid rodents and insects that could destroy them, and the different diameters adjusted to the curves of the inner shape of the barrels, from the bottom to the top. The word biscuit (biscoito), at the time of the Iberian expansion, in the 15th and 16th centuries, appears attributed to two very different objects: (1) a type of dry food for consumption during sea voyages, and (2) a type of land and stone present in the volcanic islands of the Azores, similar to the slag of forges, and which even today gives names to parishes and places.

Clay mold to mark the size of the armadas biscuits

It is possible to visit the archaeological remains of the biscuit ovens in Vale do Zebro (Palhais, Barreiro), today located inside the Escola de Fuzileiros do Vale do Zebro (Fuzileiro Museum), on the banks of the Coina river. Construction of the Lisbon fleets started and was completed there, with the loading of stones (Seixal), cannons, and other pieces for life on board such as plates, bowls and lamps or moulds for sugar and biscuits, produced in the pottery of Mata da Machada (Barreiro), where wood was cut for construction and for the ovens, as well as a tide mill to manufacture flour. The river here was for centuries a large and sheltered port where the preparation of the ships of the 1497 Indian fleet was completed; Paulo da Gama, brother of Vasco da Gama, accompanied the last preparations from his nearby Quinta in Arrentela (Seixal).

Today, small “biscuits” (some are even called “marinheiras”—the “little sailors”), in unrestricted quantity and rarely kept in barrels, are a landlubber’s treat, especially accompanied with jelly or jams. [José Madruga Carvalho]

Biscuit for the Navy Fleet I

An earthquake and a devastating mudslide engulfed Vila Franca do Campo, the “capital” of the Island of São Miguel, from 21st to 22nd October 1522. Nine days later, some men were still found alive among the rubble who told of how they survived by eating “biscuit they had made for the sea voyage” and drinking “water that dripped from the mud and collected in a pan, which they mixed with a little wine they had in a barrel, almost already turned into vinegar” (G. Frutuoso).

This episode brings to our attention a well-known recipe associated with long sea voyages since antiquity. Biscoito (English biscuit, with variants in Portuguese: bizcoito, bizcoyto, biscouto), is a word of Latin origin - bis + coctus - which simply means "twice baked" - like the "sailor's bread" that Pliny already speaks of (Historia Naturalis); there is an example found in the city of Pompeii, also devastated by an earthquake and lava in 79 AD.

More than 700 years ago, the contract signed between King Dom Dinis and Admiral Manuel Pessanha, who established the Portuguese navy, already provided for the supply of “bread, biscuits and water” (Santarém, 1.2.1317). Its use as dry food for the fleets is mentioned in the time of King Fernando (Chronicle) when the Portuguese galleys blocked the exit to the sea of the Castilian fleet anchored in Seville, closing the mouth of the Guadalquivir River opposite Barrameda (in 1370) and were supplied by ships sent by the king with “biscuits that were made in the Algarve and Lisbon.”

Its manufacture could be carried out by private millers, as ordered by King Dom João I to the millers of Porto, but supplying the fleet quickly became an activity under the authority of the king, who was able to have his own ovens, “the first modern industry in the kingdom” (O. Marques). In 1408 the king ordered a biscuit oven in Tavira for three lifetimes (confirmed by king Dom Duarte) and created a biscuit warehouse with a warehouse for its safekeeping. By the end of the 15th century, there were already at least two royal biscuit manufacturers, each with its own storekeeper and warehouses: one in Vale do Zebro (Barreiro) and one in Porta da Cruz, in Lisbon. In Lisbon, in 1482, we find Jácome Dias, squire of the queen Dona Leonor de Lencastre, confirmed by the bailiff of the biscuit ovens. But this story goes on, so stay tuned for more on (nautical) biscuits in our next post! [José Madruga Carvalho]

Wind Patterns in the Indian Ocean

Winds are one of the most basic elements for navigation practice. The right time for a particular voyage to take place, or the right rhumb to follow at a particular time of the day would often depend on the winds that would be blowing at that time. Such was the case in 16th-century navigation practice all around the world.

In the case of the Indian Ocean, winds were perceived to follow a constant pattern every year, dividing the year into two long seasons. The northwest monsoon would take place from November to March and would be a favourable period to travel from southwest Asia to East Africa. Soon after it, between March and May, would start the southwest monsoon, giving rise to heavy precipitations. As Eric Staples put it in his Maritime Lexicon, this period is often considered “closed” for navigation, especially in the southwest and southeast Asia.

The type of winds within each monsoon varies also depending on the region and the time. The Arabic nautical rutters of the 16th century often offer alternatives depending on the kind wind that is blowing – “if the strong winds hit you,” they would say, “follow this direction, but if the wind is light, then, follow that.”

With the winds having such a strong influence on navigation, it is only natural that pilots themselves wondered at the origin and causes of such a geographical phenomenon. One of the famous pilots of the Indian Ocean, Sulaymān al-Mahrī (d. ca. 1550), dealt with this question in a small treatise called Tuḥfat al-Fuḥul (The Worthy Men’s Gift), written sometime between 1511 and 1554.

“Know” – he said – “that winds originate from air, for when the air moves there is an agitation.” One of the origins of such an agitation was coldness, and for that, al-Mahrī argued, there were many indications. One of them was that “if we are – for example – moving with a strong western wind, then rainy clous would originate from a direction other than west, and if the clouds come close to us and its cold reaches us, the first wind becomes calm – that is, the western wind – and a [second] wind comes from them (the clouds).”

Another indication, according to al-Mahrī, was that the land wind would only come at night, while the sea wind would come during the day. “And this is because of the coldness of the land at night and the heat of the sea in that time; and the oposite during the day, that is, the coldness of the sea and the heat of the land.”

Such was the theory of winds of al-Mahrī, full of echoes from and engaging in conversation with antiquity and medieval natural sciences. [Inês Bénard]