The Rum Historian Title
7.31.1970 – 7.31.2020 BLACK TOT DAY
50 ANNIVERSARY
3. THE LONG GOODBYE
Today, few things seem to us as beautiful and fascinating as a sailing ship, but we must never forget that, in the 1700s, Navy sailors’ life was extremely hard.
The sailing ships of that age were relatively small, cramped, uncomfortable and filthy. The food was bad, often scarce and the water went bad quickly. Even when the weather was good, maneuvering the sails was tiring and hazardous, while storms and dead calms were a constant danger. Many sailors had been pressed by force into the Navy, and all of them were attracted by the offers of the merchant ship’s captains who were always short of labor, and so they offered higher wages and slightly less hard living conditions. Discipline was harsh and, in order to limit desertions, though it is hard to believe, there was no shore leave: when in ports, the sailors had to stay on board. In the West Indies, the ships were immediately surrounded by flotillas of boats which smuggled food, spirits and women, hence drunkenness, brawls, lack of discipline and hard punishments.
Last, but not least, illnesses were serious and frequent and the medicine of the time was all but impotent to treat them; according to our Pack “Until 1756, surgery and medicine in the navy had been rudimentary. During the seven years of war that followed, for every man killed in action, at least eighty were lost by disease or desertion! Scurvy remained the scourge of the navy …”
In that situation, “The spirit ration contributed more to a state of equilibrium than might be imagined. Grog times – morning and evening – were the pleasantest parts of the day, and provided the anodyne to counteract the miseries and discomfort of life aboard. “Splice the main-brace“, originally a simple command to maneuver the sails, took on the meaning of issuing the grog and, in wider terms, of partying and making merry.
But, especially in the evenings, the distribution of grog brought about widespread drunkenness resulting in harsh punishments; it was the link of the spirit ration with excessive punishment which gave rum such a bad name.
Meanwhile, in 1818 the UK adopted the Sikes’ hydrometer, therefore it was now possible to measure the alcoholic strength of a drink and finally calculate precisely the “proof”: “The Inland Revenue could now assess the duty payable on spirit according to its proof – which was defined as a mixture of 49.24% alcohol and 50.76% water by weight.” Roughly 57% alcohol and 43% water by volume.
Around 1850, sailors’ life began to improve significantly. Here are a few examples. Water was no longer supplied in wooden casks, but in iron tanks, and plenty of meat, vegetables and fruit was available, finally putting an end to the blight of scurvy. In 1857 the uniform, the bluejacket, was introduced for the sailors (officers had it in 1748). A little later, with the new iron and steam-powered ships, the design of the ships changed drastically: better storage spaces, special spirits rooms, better spaces for the men, more hygiene and generally safer navigation. In 1871 corporal punishment was suspended in peacetime and in 1890 the regular shore-going leave was introduced. To sum up, at the turn of the Century, we saw better living conditions for the seamen. The Navy was no more the realm of “ Rum, buggery and the lash” as in Winston Churchill’s famous quip.
“The spread of education, and the provision of rival interests to the public house, caused a dramatic change in social habits towards the end of the nineteenth century. There was an increasing interest in sport and outdoor life in general, and the growth of clubs also helped to encourage a more temperate society. Against this background the many temperate movements which existed in Britain were achieving remarkable success. In particular the Royal Army Temperance Association and the Royal Navy Temperance Society helped encourage a decent and sober way of life. As a result, both the spiral of consumption of alcohol and the prevalence of drunkenness continued downwards steeply, between 1900 and 1918, but attempts by moralists to interfere with the navy’s rum daily ration met fierce resistance.”
Rum- A Social and Sociable History
But how exactly was the Navy provided with rum? Here is how the facts are reconstructed in the seminal book “RUM A Social and Sociable History” by Ian Williams (2005). “The navy was a huge enterprise, on shore as well as at sea. It made its own gunpowder, industrialized and mechanized the process for making ships’ biscuits, salted pork and beef, and brewed its own beer. It did not distill its own rum but did buy the produce of the Caribbean and blend it to its own exacting standards. The Victualling Department blended the navy rum at Deptford on the Thames, in the ‘Old Weevil’. Conscious of status, perhaps, in 1858 they renamed it the Royal Victoria Yard, and it was not closed until 1961. By then, the blending was done by a private company in London, E.D. & F. Man, Ltd, for many years the Navy’s official rum broker. It was a solid foundation for a business that first got the contract in 1780 and still had it 190 years later. One former employee described the bidding process to me as somewhat truncated: the Admiralty would phone the broker once a year to say how much rum it would need. The broker was in charge of blending to a formula that is still confidential but is reliably reported as being mostly Demerara rum from British Guyana, as it was then, with a substantial admixture of Trinidad rum and additions from other producers. Undoubtedly one of most sought after jobs in the Admiralty was to be on the frequent tasting panels to check that the formulation consistently met the exacting standards. Until 1961, when South Africa broke from the Commonwealth, one of the constituents was Natal rum, which may have served after maturing for five years in Deptford but did not get much approval when served ‘fresh’ during the Second World War because Germany’s U-boats threatened the navy’s jugular by sinking freighters full of rum.”
In spite of the temperance movements sailors continued to cherish their Tot. “The ‘matelot’s built-in-stabiliser’, as rum was sometimes called, had much in its favour and the numbers taking grog for 1914 support the argument that rum was undoubtedly popular. Of the total naval strength of 131,000 men, 88,200 were more than twenty years of age and therefore entitled. Some 77,000 (eighty-seven per cent) actually drew they daily rum.”
Anyway, the actual Grog ration was never exactly the same. The proportion of rum in it changed, and the very rums used were different according to time, geography, and ship. For instance, in 1938 the usual (but not strictly mandatory) proportion of three parts of water for one part of rum, was changed to a two to one proportion. While “In the submarine service the custom developed of mixing grog in equal quantities of rum and water (one to one), for which, so far as is known, no regulation provided. Submariners have ever shown a sturdy independence; the grog mix would have been regarded as within the province of individual commanding officers to rule.” But more about this in the next and last article.
Probably even before, but surely after WWII, a general feeling that the Tot was somewhat “backward” began to spread, but only in the mid 1950’s did the Admiralty begin to consider seriously the abolition of the rum ration and its substitution with beer. There were new good reasons for it. “In a matter of years complex warships would enter service requiring crews trained to handle highly sophisticated equipment, for which the stalwart three-badge able seaman accustomed to his daily rum would be a misfit. Unfortunately, the extra space required for stowing the large stocks of beer that ships would need to carry, could not be provided by the spirits room alone, and valuable ammunition spaces, which were available in peace but not in war, could not be sacrificed at the altar of beer. So undecided the matter stood although the conviction that there was really no place for rum in modern navy became firmly rooted. Before long, rum was the subject of public debate, because of rumors and counter rumors over its future. With so much at stake for its readers, the daily press in the naval ports was probably the most vociferous.”
In 1964, in a newspaper article we can read “To bring this ancient naval custom to an end would need courage, but the fact that the suggestion is raised usually once a year is evidence of the belief that the days of the tot are numbered.” In 1967 in another article we can read: “The connection between drinking and driving as a cause of road accidents was now under heavy fire. The breathalyzer had been introduced and the Navy’s daily rum was criticized on that account.” According to the breathalyzer test, the sailors were legally unfit to drive after the rum ration, but they were legally fit to run sophisticated naval devices and also to deal with nuclear weapons!
Finally, in December 1969, the long alliance of rum and the Navy came to an end. Let’s read some extracts from the Admiralty decision:
“2. Rum is a particular naval privilege of very long standing and one which is cherished and enjoyed. The Board has given full weight to this fact. It has, on the other hand, concluded that a daily issue of rum is no longer compatible with the high standards of efficiency required now that the tasks in ships are concerned with complex, and often delicate, machinery and systems, on the correct functioning of which people’s lives may depend.
4. By way of financial compensation a lump sum of £2.7 million will be paid into a new fund for the purpose of providing social and recreational facilities for the welfare of ratings and RM other ranks. The fund, which will be known as the Sailor’s Fund, will have a substantial income.
6. Accordingly, the daily rum issue and grog money will be abolished from Saturday, August 1, 1970.”
“On January 28, 1970, the Great Rum Debate took place in the House of Common. Understandably those members with previous naval service, and others elected to represent constituencies with large naval populations, were vociferous in condemning the decision. ‘Anger at the end of rum issue’ said The Times headline on January 29, but the promoters of abolition stood their ground and as it turned out the debate was merely political and without much rancor.” Later in the year, not even a new Government after the general election, changed the decision.
On July 30, 1970, the Daily Express wrote ‘Tomorrow Friday, July 31, 1970, will be for ever remembered in the history of the Royal Navy. The daily routine pipe of Up Spirits is due to sound for the last time’. “The fleet, determined to make it a day to remember, planned to mourn the occasion fittingly with that highly developed sense of histrionics peculiar to the Navy.” There were rites and cerimonies, also a special hand stamp. Overseas, too, due respects were paid. Here is Pack’s description of the very last Tot in the world, from his little, big book.
Black Tot Day at the Royal Naval Dockyard
Afloat, the most outstanding privilege fell to the guided missile destroyer HMS Fife which, being at Pearl Harbour and close to the international date line at the time, made the last regulation Up Spirits call to be heard anywhere in the world. The grog issue was observed with exaggerated pomp and circumstance. On the ship’s small flight deck American television cameras recorded the event. The rum tub of shining oak, with brightly polished lettering on its side, provided evidence of an affectionate preparation for its final duty. Slowly the ship’s company began to muster, many sporting black arm bands. Some were dressed in drab mourning clothes and even Long John Silver was there with a lifeless parrot on his shoulder. This pleased the cameramen, but the American reporters by their questioning, ‘What’s all this fuss over a glass of rum?’ obviously found it difficult to comprehend what the rum issue had meant to the British Navy.
As noon approached (Hawaiian time), a lament was played on the pipes and the men silently formed a queue by the tub. Suddenly the call came over the broadcast, ‘Secure. Hands to dinner, rum issue is now taking place on the flight deck.’
Under the eye of the officer of the day the issue began, and as tots were consumed, so the tot glasses were thrown over the ship’s side in a mock gesture of farewell. When all was over, the rum breaker itself was carried aft and committed to a watery grave to the accompaniment of a twenty-one gun salute. The end of this long tradition saddened the hearts of many.
I think it is fitting to end with a poem, again from Pack:
You soothed my nerves
And warmed my limbs
And cheered my dismal heart
Procured my wants, obliged my whims-
And now it’s time to part
And so the time has come old friend
To take the final sup
Our tears are shed.
This is the end
Goodbye and bottoms up!
Marco Pierini
About Marco Pierni
for november issue Rum Historian