12 February 2018 by Jen
Here at the Maritime Museum our curatorial team are busy researching the content for our new Sea Galleries, set to open in 2019 and looking at the lives and experiences of seafarers. I’ve become particularly interested in the effects of separation from one’s family and home, and have been reading through a collection of journals in the Maritime Archives kept by a Captain Porter in the 1860s aboard his ship the Jamna.
Like many seafarers he talks longingly of home and of his wife, Bess.
“when I cast a thought at Home, it seems like a beautiful Dream that I have passed through, almost to good to be real, but thank God, it’s not a Dream but the reality I have experienced, and if I am never permitted to enjoy such a season as those again, why I shall always be able to look back, to that happy time in the summer…I only wish I had my dear Bess with me now” [sic]
I was touched by his poetic language and happy memories and so I was delighted to find, almost 3 months further into the voyage, the entry for 11th October 1864:
“I found a letter today in my hatbox from Bess written and placed there for the express purpose of giving me a little pleasure in finding it which it did very much I must say”
It’s a charming image, his loving wife secreting a letter somewhere she knows it will not be uncovered for a while, in order to lift his spirits when they were far away from each other.
This sort of separation was not unusual for seafarers and their loved ones. Some were able to take wives on board with them, indeed our Captain Porter mentions in his journals that next time he wants to bring Bess along, but for many the time at sea meant leaving wives and children behind. In the age of the internet and the mobile phone things have been made easier for seafarers, but anyone who has ever been separated from someone they love will attest that phone calls and e-mails simply aren’t the same.
As an island nation we have long relied upon shipping and seafarers and, though these days the way ports have grown in size and security has meant that for most of the population they are out of sight, this is as true in 2018 as it was in Captain Porter’s time. More than 95% of everything you use, everything you see around you, has been made possible by shipping – from food, to clothing, to technology. The fancy chocolates you’ve bought your Valentine, the bottle of Champagne you’ll share with them, the CD of romantic music playing in the background, likely all brought here by seafarers.
So let’s show seafarers a little love and appreciation this Valentine’s Day. Ask someone you know how much of everything they use arrives courtesy of the shipping industry and see what they say. Spread a little love and awareness for the invisible industry that underpins our economy, and for the men and women working long months away from their loved ones to bring us 95% of everything, from our morning cup of tea to the screen you’re reading this on.
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