The Secret of Nelson’s Locket: 
Lord Nelson was not a man
of habit, in the military sense, indeed he frequently did exactly what the
enemy expected he would not. He was, however, a man who loved pomp and ceremony
– especially in his honour – and rather fond of his little rituals. One of
these, frequently observed by brother officers, was usually executed before he
came on deck and always before a battle. He would dress in his deck-coat, with
its Garter Star and his many other decorations, clip on his sword, set his
cocked-hat upon his head and pause in front of the mirror to make sure
everything looked just so. He was more than a little vain, but why not, he had
earned that privilege; the hard way. Just before leaving the day cabin he would
cross to his desk, open a draw and remove a tiny silver locket suspended on a
slender chain. He would open the locket and consider its contents before
snapping it shut and replacing it back from whence it came. Then, with a faint
smile, he would head for the door and shortly afterwards appear on deck.
Nobody gave this locket
much thought. Many officers had similar items, usually containing a miniature
of their loved one; sometimes with a lock of hair. It was not until after
Trafalgar, when the great man was lost, that his trusted friend Captain Hardy
came across the silver bauble, whilst collecting up the Admiral’s personal
possessions. Hardy desperately wanted to look inside, he was dying to know why
Nelson always smiled after gazing into it. Perhaps, he thought, it contained a
provocative picture of Emma Hamilton or maybe a few well-chosen words in her
typically impudent manner. Equally, he felt it would be almost a breach of
trust if he did so, for this was Nelson’s most private, most secret,
possession.
Eventually, commonsense
got the better of him. Nelson was a national hero, all his artefacts would be
closely examined… revered even… and what if it contained something risqué? He
decided then and there to open it and hang the consequences. What he found surprised
him, shocked him even, so that he immediately called the surgeon and with his
help soldered the case closed. What it contained would never see the light of
day, if he could help it.
That night, as he lay in
his cot, he chuckled to himself. What would the world say if they knew what lay
hidden within that locket? Well, the world never did find out, nor did Thomas
Masterman Hardy ever breathe a word to a living soul. I can tell you, because
the surgeon had stolen a peek whilst Hardy was heating the soldering iron.
Inside, was a tiny scrap of paper on which were written the words: Port is
left… starboard is right… So now you know.
OK… so I have had the
temerity to poke a little fun at the great man’s expense, but there remains
more than a grain of truth in this story. Sailors in HM Ships of Nelson’s navy
generally used the terms Larboard and
Starboard rather than Port and Starboard.
In the days before
stern-hung rudders became commonplace, it was usual to steer with an oar, or
sweep, over the right hand or Steorbord
side, since most helmsmen were right handed. In fact no superstitious
fishermen, would ship a left hander on board.
This meant that for loading at a quayside, the opposite or Ladebord side was put alongside to
protect the steering board from the risk of damage. Both these Anglo-Saxon terms evolved over time to become Starboard and Larboard.
The term Port, thought to
have been around since 16C. is probably derived from the action of portering -
to lift a burden – rather than being alongside a port; hence the word porthole,
for example, a place allowing for portered goods to be ported aboard.
However, it was not until 1844 that their Lords of the Admiralty issued the order that:
"The word Port is frequently substituted for the word Larboard and as the distinction between Starboard and Port is so much more marked than between Starboard and Larboard, it is their Lordships direction that the word Larboard shall no longer be used."
The US Navy was to follow suit in 1846, although the older terms continued in use particularly amongst whalers and fishermen, well into the 1850s.
Lar… Larb… PORT... OK Got
it... Sir.
First published at Insight Magazine 1st April 2001, revisited 2024. Paul Hodkinson.
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