This interview was originally published at my blog Indigenous Ability where my day job of combat trainer/historian allows for such interaction. I found this one so striking I thought I would share it here as well.
Allow
me to say the following interview with Benerson Little is ostensibly about
Pirate History and tactical matters of combat at sea, but, to my mind it is far
more than that.
Ben
waxes sagely on the importance of the experimental method versus simply imbibing
and regurgitating information and there is a touch of “Get out there and live!” admonishment.
I
find myself in agreement with Ben 100%.
Pirate
enthusiast or not, there is much to be gleaned from this interview.
For
those not in the know, Ben Little is the mighty interesting hybrid of ex-Navy
SEAL, fencer, and master historian of all things piratical.
I
urge you to have a look at Ben’s work: http://www.benersonlittle.com/
Read
on!
First
things first, Ben, I became aware of your work via your book The Sea Rover's
Practice: Pirate Tactics and Techniques, 1630-1730, which is in a
word-superlative! Exactly the sort of hands-on in-the-trenches history that
appeals to me. I love the immersive
aspect that goes beyond the typical academic rehash. Your work feels alive and
passionate and “been there, done that.” History as experiment as opposed to
comfy chairs only.
For
those not in the know, Ben has fired the period firearms, he knows his
seamanship, he has handled the swords. Let me ask, how important to you is it
to make this history come alive via experience as opposed to cobbling together
yet another “Here’s what someone else wrote” account?
Your question points directly to the intersection of
several issues in the study of history, or for that matter, even to the present
in understanding another culture or set of behaviors. There must be some
reference for common understanding. For me, the baseline has always been that
people are people, that fundamentally we’re the same. However, this “sameness”
diverges the more we look at culture itself, as opposed to human nature, and
even more so when it comes to specific techniques and, in the case of military
or quasi-military operations, tactics. The fundamentals may remain the same
over millennia but the expression will change to a greater or lesser degree. In
sum, to understand sea rovers, for example, it’s necessary to understand their
environment—the sea—as well as how and their purpose—profit by force of arms on
the sea—affects their behavior, as well as their tactical and technical
expression, so to speak—how they managed their arms, &c.
I immediately saw numerous similarities in attitudes
and behaviors between Navy SEALs and sea rovers in general (and in particular,
those who were quite competent—not all were), for example, and this permitted
me to see behaviors that some scholars either missed or ascribed to other
reasons than I might. Bearing arms leaves a behavioral imprint, as does bearing
arms at sea, as does bearing arms at sea unconventionally. It doesn’t matter
that Navy SEALs or a group of sea rovers is composed of diverse personalities:
the trades or professions leave a particular mark. In the past, for example, I
could pick out with a high degree of accuracy Navy SEALs in civilian clothes,
simply by recognizing subtle signs. It didn’t matter that all might be dressed
differently, or have different accents, and so on. Their profession was
imprinted on them.
To understand sea rovers, it helps to have boarded
ships, to have been trashed in the surf and nearly drowned, to know first-hand
how easy it is for the sea to kill you, to know first-hand how it is for a plan
to mislay, to have hallucinated from sleep deprivation and dehydration, to have
gone without food on a desert shore for a day or a few, to have had your hands
swollen so much from seawater and sunburn that you can’t close or open them all
the way and you have small cuts and cracks in them from the swelling… It helps
to have seen how men behave under life-threatening pressure, especially when
everything is going wrong. There are plenty of opportunities for such
experience today, which once was common: most people just don’t take the chance
to get it anymore. A simple example: in a recent online discussion about
pirates and whether they wore rings, I don’t think anyone brought up the
practical until I did: that rings on hands shrunk from cold seawater will slip
off, that rings on hands swollen and macerated will cut circulation off, that
rings can get caught on the various machinery of a ship and you may lose the
finger. Practical experience matters, and even modern similar experience is
important.
Too often I’ve seen scholars miss the obvious in the
study of piracy, for two reasons: an ideological approach that causes them to
cherry-pick facts (pirates were rebels against empire aka the Star Wars
and Black Sails approach, pirates were rebels against corporate overlords
aka the Marxist approach, pirates were really cool knights of the sea aka the
armchair historian approach), and a fundamental lack of understanding of the
sea, of ships and men, and of the use of arms past and present. For example, I
was involved in a pirate documentary some years past, and during a break in
shooting I was talking to the producer’s assistant who was former Navy, and
also to one of the props guys, likewise former Navy, a Brown Water sailor
(gunboats, riverine warfare) during Vietnam. No matter the years between our
service, we all spoke the same language and were shooting the sh*t as Navy men
do. One of the other guest experts was a professor who studied seamen and
maritime labor of the past, and I noticed he was watching and listening to us
with rapt attention, almost as if in reverie—and with a huge grin. Here he was,
watching Navy people talk and act as they really do. I realized at that moment
that most scholars, no matter how good (and this professor really knew his
subject) are looking from the outside in. They will always miss something by
not having at some related inside experience.
In sum, if you want for example to know how buccaneers
and boucaniers managed their long-barreled muskets, you must (1)
research everything you can about the firearms, then (2) go into the field and
test fire them, using every technique you’ve read about--a few hundred times at
least. Only then will you begin to appreciate the weapon. I once read a piece
by a scholar who was trying to prove that Native Americans took up firearms not
because they were superior to bows and arrows, but for cultural reasons.
However, numerous period accounts, my own tests, and tests by other modern
experts in period arms prove the contrary. (Morgan’s buccaneers were fired on
repeatedly by Native Americans allied with the Spanish while crossing to
Panama—but they were largely ineffective, brush and branches deflected most.)
The difference between the reality and the scholar’s argument? The scholar
fired a musket a few times under supervision, then imagined all sorts of
reasons the bow was actually superior, including the “fact” that the flight of
incoming arrows might terrorize firearm-toting militia and so forth. Had he
served in any ground combat arms, or even done some reasonable research, he
would know what any veteran troops or simply well-trained ones would do in such
a circumstance, just as they do today when they spot incoming tracers: know
immediately where the enemy is and engage him. Such absolute nonsense of the sort
presented by this scholar is common in much scholarship (but certainly not in
all, not by any stretch), and is one of the reasons I go to primary sources as
much as possible, and then whenever possible test what I’ve read, preferably in
the field. Too many times have I read a scholarly argument only to find that
the scholar’s sources don’t actually support his conclusion, sometimes because
he or she hasn’t actually tested them, sometimes because he or she has
cherry-picked or even deliberately misread or ignored facts.
I could on and on here, but will cut this short with
one more example. There are a lot of reasons the “Jolly Roger” may have gotten
its name—people forget that naming and such is often synergistic, and that a
name may have more than one origin. Even so, some scholars don’t see how the
fact that one of the definitions of roger, that of—to be polite—copulation and
to copulate, could have anything to do with the name of the flag. And indeed,
roger had several meanings, all of which could apply. Yet I can tell a group of
sailors that roger meant copulation and to copulate (I’d use the usual
vernacular, of course), and they’ll get the joke of the jolly roger
immediately. Cultural and physical context matter!
“Our
images of piratical close-quarters battle are based entirely on Howard Pyle
artwork and Hollywood imagery, what do these images get right, and what do they
get wrong?”
What they get right, sometimes, is the chaos of close
combat in the confines of a ship’s deck, and the combination of courage and
fear that accompanies it. Most everything else is, unfortunately, incorrect.
Foremost, although there were hand-to-hand combats on open decks, often between
the crews of men-of-war, most combats, if at all lopsided in numbers, were
fought by the defenders from “closed quarters.” That is, they retreated to
barricaded bulkheads and fired muskets from loopholes, cannon from bulkhead
ports, and threw grenades from loopholes. Further, the decks were often mined
by half a dozen or more “powder chests” designed to be blown up as boarders
leaped onto the decks. For the boarders, their job was to suppress enemy fire
long enough to chop and holes into bulkheads and decks (from which the
“boarding ax” has its name) and, using iron crows, pry up planks, in order to
make openings into which were thrown grenades and firepots to flush the enemy
out. These combats could take an hour or even several, and often were
unsuccessful for the boarders. Boarders in these sorts of closed quarters
combats were not only armed with cutlass and pistols, but also with muskets,
cartouche boxes, and often boarding axes and grenades. John Smith, of Virginia
colony fame, described these as the most brutal of all combats, worse even than
fighting in the trenches.
The swinging from lines onto enemy decks or from aloft
is Hollywood nonsense, although it looks spectacular. Boarders generally
carefully leaped from their forecastle to the, usually, main shrouds of the
enemy. It was not the process of a mere few seconds as we see in Hollywood, but
a much longer one. Even the lining of boarders up on the gunwales, all of them
waving cutlasses, is Hollywood—to do so in action would be a good way to get
killed. This was probably done by early 18th century pirates against
an intimidated merchant enemy who would not fight back, but it would never be
done against an enemy who was fighting back. Basically, boarders kept under
cover as much as possible until time to board. The attacking ship would keep up
a constant small arms fire in order to suppress enemy fire, then would lob
grenades onto the enemy deck in an attempt to clear them, and if not clear them
then at least provide the opportunity to briefly suppress enemy fire and
provide a smoke screen of sorts under which to board. The accounts of combat on
open decks typically describe incredibly brutal close combat, with pistols
fired at close range, often in contact with the enemy, and cutlasses and other armes
blanches in great use.
“We
often see the apex of piratical combat as the cutlass, are we wrong to assume
this?”
Although cutlass, pistol, boarding ax, and boarding
pike are the most commonly cited weapons in use, the musket, often with
bayonet, was in common as well, as were, but to a lesser degree, the brown bill
(English bill, black bill) among English seamen and the partisan among the
French. I’ve even read accounts in which round shot (cannon balls) were flung
onto boarders, crushing skulls and breaking other bones. These were bloody,
brutal actions. Getting back to the cutlass, there would be little time or room
for protracted fencing engagements as in a duel, and which we often see in
Hollywood. The chaos of such an environment is almost unimaginable: a variety
of weapons in use, the danger to one’s own people from their own weapons, threats
coming from all sides… Although there were probably some “knife sharpening”
cutlass actions of attack, parry-riposte, counter-parry-riposte, most cutlass
engagements probably ended with the first attack or the first parry-riposte,
and many engagements probably including grappling. I imagine that the cutlass
was often used as a supplementary weapon, or as part of a weapons system of
pistol-cutlass: fire the pistol at the enemy, then cut him down. It may have
been often used to deliver the coup de grace as much as to immediately dispatch
an active combatant. Hollywood shows the cutlass generally in use as if
attackers and defenders squared off one by one: one attacker and one defender
engage in single combat, with both crews divided up this way. This doesn’t
appear to have been the case, although there were some single combats during
such actions. A famous French privateer even captured a ship after engaging its
captain sword-to-sword. But this was the exception, not the rule. In other
words, the cutlass was but one of several arms of equal value in boarding
actions.
“This
is you on tactics:
“It is vital to remember that tactics,
although they may be distilled and described and catalogued, are never employed
in the abstract, save by theorists and novelists. In practice, tactics are
always subject to the immediate situation: when executed they exist as part of
a unique set of circumstances, never again to be identically repeated. In other
words, they are subject to the moment and to the circumstances leading up to
the moment, and to the physical, psychological, and environmental situations of
those implementing them and those against whom they are employed.”
Never
did I expect to see such a cogent analysis of real-world approaches in a book
of pirate history. I, for one, feel that much of historical writing or musings
are based on unrealistic armchair analysis that have no basis in the
real-world. Do you feel the same, or am I assuming too much?”
First, thanks for the compliment! Part of this I’ve
already covered in my answer to your first question, but yes, absolutely, I
feel—actually, can prove—that much historical writing, both fact and fiction,
is unrealistic, often highly so, with no basis in the real world. Certainly not
all is, but there is enough unrealistic writing that it taints the pool, so to
speak, and promotes fiction as fact. I’ve seen this in fiction too. A few years
ago a critic correctly pointed out that much television and film was
unrealistic because the writers had no real life experience in what they were
writing, but instead took their experience from bad television and film—taking
pure fiction as fact, in other words, not only in technical details but in
behaviors. I’ve seen this first-hand on occasion in both non-fiction and
fiction as well, even having to point out twice to editors that what I wrote
was based (1) on research, on documented fact, and (2) on my own first-hand
experience. They were relying on bad history and bad novels—clichés—as fact,
and trying to argue with me about it.
However, for me the reality is exciting, even more so, than the fiction. But people in general don’t like to give up their notions of “reality,” no matter how incorrect, and these days, with Internet access and the ability to easily post opinion as fact, far too much nonsense is passing as truth. If you want to know what something is really like, you go directly to the source if you can. You want to know what sword combat was like in the late 17th and early 18th century? Read Donald McBane’s book, the man was in dozens upon dozens of duels, affrays, and battlefield fights. He knew what he was talking about. When I went through BUDS, most of our instructors were Vietnam combat veterans, and likewise they were when I went through the SEAL Team ONE and SEAL Team THREE platoon training (ST-1 trained ST-3’s first two platoons). I listened to them! When our ST-3 command master chief, a man with seven combat tours in Vietnam and two Navy Crosses, pulled me aside as a young Ensign to give me advice, specifically not to f*ck up as the PL (patrol leader) because I’d be dead if I did, not to mention get some of my people killed, by using the example of the three times he was ambushed and in all three cases the first two or three in line got killed (point man, PL, RTO…was the patrol order)—I listened and learned. I didn’t ignore fact and substitute romantic Hollywood illusions. The goal of research and investigation should be the truth, no matter where it leads. This was easy in the Teams: fantasy would get you killed.
However, for me the reality is exciting, even more so, than the fiction. But people in general don’t like to give up their notions of “reality,” no matter how incorrect, and these days, with Internet access and the ability to easily post opinion as fact, far too much nonsense is passing as truth. If you want to know what something is really like, you go directly to the source if you can. You want to know what sword combat was like in the late 17th and early 18th century? Read Donald McBane’s book, the man was in dozens upon dozens of duels, affrays, and battlefield fights. He knew what he was talking about. When I went through BUDS, most of our instructors were Vietnam combat veterans, and likewise they were when I went through the SEAL Team ONE and SEAL Team THREE platoon training (ST-1 trained ST-3’s first two platoons). I listened to them! When our ST-3 command master chief, a man with seven combat tours in Vietnam and two Navy Crosses, pulled me aside as a young Ensign to give me advice, specifically not to f*ck up as the PL (patrol leader) because I’d be dead if I did, not to mention get some of my people killed, by using the example of the three times he was ambushed and in all three cases the first two or three in line got killed (point man, PL, RTO…was the patrol order)—I listened and learned. I didn’t ignore fact and substitute romantic Hollywood illusions. The goal of research and investigation should be the truth, no matter where it leads. This was easy in the Teams: fantasy would get you killed.
“Another
quote from the book:
“Sea rovers were also unified in that most
who followed the trade were given to risk-taking. There is a strong sense of
individuality, antiauthoritarian rebellion, and social marginality running
through most sea-roving journals. And finally, sea rovers were an opportunistic
lot, even if theirs was a calculated opportunism; all those who hazard their
lives on ventures of “high risk high gain” are.”
I
sense a feeling of admiration here for those of a felonious nature, an admiration
that I in the libertarian part of me feel myself. What do you think the appeal
is?”
I’m not sure I can state a single likely appeal to sea
roving or any other risk-taking enterprise. It’s a fact that many, maybe most,
people imagine themselves undertaking adventure—by definition risk-taking—yet
most never actually do (although I highly advise they do, at least once!).
Certainly the idea of adventure itself is a strong reason. Likewise the idea of
throwing off of the mundane, of the ridding oneself of the “middle class
mentality” so to speak, is a prominent reason, as is the idea of “getting rich
quick” while having fun, even though most never got rich, much less quickly,
and sea roving often wasn’t much fun at all. “Need and greed” has been
identified as two of the predominant reasons since antiquity for sea roving,
but even in these cases a sense of risk-taking and adventure probably often
enter in, at least to some degree. In the Teams I knew men from all walks of
life, of many philosophies, of varied backgrounds, of many different social and
political inclinations, yet we were all bound by senses of adventure, duty, and
teamwork. No matter how law-abiding some of us might be—frankly, I would
probably have been a pirate hunter in the early 18th century, which
is still a form of sea rover in fact—we all have somewhere deep inside of us,
at least those of us who would adventure, what you so aptly described as a
“felonious nature” of rule breaking. Mencken said it best: “Every normal man
must be tempted, at times, to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and
begin slitting throats.” I’m not sure I can explain it, but I fully agree.
“The
following passage regarding “handy grips” appeals to me greatly due to my area
of major interest.
“At “handy grips” men would shoot, cut, stab,
and if necessary, kick, punch, knee, elbow, head butt, wrestle, choke, and
bite. Backstabbing was common, practical, and effective. Hand-to-hand
techniques such as boxing, wrestling, and kicking were better understood then
than we assume, and in the most desperate boarding actions, doubtless played
some role, probably minor overall but still vital to the individual fighting
for his life. Again, lead and steel were the weapons of choice, for a reason.”
Do
you have any further information on empty-handed combat in sea rover life?”
Unfortunately, there is almost no information on sea
rover hand-to-hand, or even cutlass-play during the so-called Golden Age,
roughly 1655 to 1725. A few journals note some cutlass-play, from which a few
things can be deduced, but there are no cutlass manuals. There are a few
hand-to-hand combat manuals from the period, so it’s possible that some seamen
were familiar with them. Wrestling and boxing were popular, so surely some sea
rovers were adept at these practices. I’ve seen some secondary sources that
note that French la savate had its origins among early 18th
century French seaman who practiced something similar. We do know that there
was formal practice in swordplay aboard some sea rovers, and almost certainly
informal as well—there was in the land forces. We can infer that there was
probably similar instruction in hand-to-hand as well, but there really isn’t
anything discussing it per se in any sea roving primary sources I’ve seen.
Dueling was not accomplished, at least among most sea rovers, by wrestling,
boxing, or knife-fighting (the Dutch may be an exception to this last, I’m
doing a blog post on it soon), but by sword (usually cutlass, occasionally
smallsword among some officers), or sword and pistol, or fusil boucanier
among the boucaniers (hunters of Hispaniola).
“I
repeat the flogging a dead horse theme, but you make clear the realities and
difficulties of waging combat on floating craft. Something that seems to elude
many other historians who write as if they’ve never been at sea. Do you feel
that your background gave you a particular insight into the tactics?”
I’ve probably touched on this already above, possibly
even answered it already (I tend to wander to associated subjects in my
answers, as you can tell), but yes, definitely, my experience has made it much
easier for me to see how seventeenth century maritime tactics, in particular
boarding and other close combats, were actually accomplished. The problems to
solve were much the same as they are today: how to keep equipment dry, how to
gather intelligence, how to make a plan, how to surprise the enemy, how to deal
with the vagaries of the sea, how to deal with the fact that sh*t happens in
spite of the best plans, how to keep order before and during a fight, and so
on. The sea has its own unique set of problems: those fighting on or from the
sea must deal not only with the enemy, but with the quite unforgiving
environment. I’m sure I would’ve made far more mistakes in researching and
writing books on piracy and other sea roving had I not had the experience with
SEAL Team that I did. Things that seem obvious to me might not even occur to
scholars without hands-on experience of arms and the sea. I’ve seen a lot of
errors in regard not only to maritime warfare of the period, but also to
seamanship in general.
Regarding
piratical swordsmanship do you have an insight as to what “style” or schools
might have held preponderant sway?
Cutlass play of some sort appears to have been the
predominant form among most privateers, with some exceptions I’ll mention
first. Foremost, Spanish sea rovers were often equipped with the rapier and
poniard, these were the almost mandatory weapons, into the early to mid-18th
century, of Spaniards who considered themselves as hidalgos—and a great
many did. The only eyewitness image of a Spanish pirate shows him with a
cup-hilted rapier at his side. The cutlass was also used by Spanish sea
rovers, of course. Second, some sea roving officers probably carried the
smallsword, possibly in action, certainly ashore. A small but significant
number of French flibustiers were French gentlemen—Michel de Grammont,
Raveneau de Lussan, the sieur d’Hulot, the sieur de Chauvelin, among others—who
probably carried a smallsword, at least ashore. Among some French privateer
officers I’ve seen the use of the cutlass at sea and the smallsword ashore. In
these cases of rapier and smallsword, it’s fairly easy to determine the
swordplay involved, given the large number of extant texts. However, I will
note that few fencers even today follow any school exactly. More often,
elements of a particular school are adapted to a fencer’s physical, mental, and
tactical characteristics.
For the most part, though, it’s the cutlass that
prevailed. Unfortunately, as I’ve already noted, we have no extant cutlass
manuals and only a few vague descriptions of the cutlass in action. The
assumption is that it resembled common practice of cutting or cut-and-thrust
swords (and some period commentators even suggest this), of which there were
several or more schools (for example, English, Highland Scottish, Hungarian,
German, &c., all with some overlap as well as some distinct
characteristics). Notably, the breadth of technique with a cutting sword is
finite, so there was probably a lot that was common among various
practitioners. What’s often missed in cutlass discussion though is (1) that at
close quarters aka “handy grips” at which the cutlass was often used, the
cutlass can make devastating cleaving cuts (I’ve tested them on a variety of
targets), and (2) can be used to make almost single tempo counter-actions in
contact with the adversary’s blade (aka “grazing” actions) much like some of
those of the German Dusack (I’ve tested these too with a friend). I’d be very
surprised if these actions weren’t taught or used, they come about quite
naturally with a little bit of practice, including cutting practice. I’ve a
chapter on period swordplay in The Buccaneer’s Realm, another on dueling
and cutlass play in The Golden Age of Piracy, and a blog post on the
buccaneer cutlass here, which includes some information on what know about how
the cutlass might have been used: https://benersonlittle.wordpress.com/2016/12/31/buccaneer-cutlasses-what-we-know/.
“Aside
from your own superlative work, are there other non-fiction works in this area
you particularly admire?”
There are a lot of great books on the subject, far too
many to even begin to list here (and therefore any authors not listed here
should not take offence!). Note that the following are all secondary sources. I
highly recommend going straight to primary sources, they’re where I got my
start. Secondary sources can help fill in the blanks, or put things together if
you don’t have literally years to make your own slow study.
Anything by Peter Earle, he’s a very
fact/reality-oriented scholar.
I like Peter R. Galvin, a lot, his Patterns of Pillage is a great
description of how geography affects piracy (and everything, in fact).
For Spanish speakers, Corsarios y Piratas de Veracruz y Campeche by Juan Juarez
Moreno, it’s easily one of the best books on piracy, ever. Great discussion of
Laurens de Graff and others who attacked Mexico in the late 17th
century, very well researched, heavy on Spanish sources, very fact-oriented. I
wish more books on the subject of piracy were like this.
David F. Marley has done a lot of great reference work
on the subject.
“How
about on the fictional side of things, do you have a Top Ten of pirate novels
that pass the expert’s muster?”
With the caveat that all have some problems with
historical accuracy—in other words, they don’t necessarily pass tactical
muster—and that only the first two are in actual order of rank, the rest are
pretty much equal in my mind:
Treasure
Island by Robert Louis Stevenson.
Captain
Blood: His Odyssey by Rafael Sabatini. There are two
associated books of short stories, The
Fortunes of Captain Blood & Captain Blood Returns.
The
Black Swan by Rafael Sabatini.
The
Pirate by Sir Walter Scott.
Howard
Pyle’s Book of Pirates by Howard Pyle.
Frenchman’s
Creek by Daphne Du Maurier (a romance, but great insight
into the ideal of a pirate captain’s mind, based on her husband I think, he was
a professional soldier).
Adam
Penfeather, Buccaneer by Jeffery Farnol, prequel to the
following two novels.
Black
Bartlemy’s Treasure by Jeffery Farnol, really part one
of a longer novel, part two being the next book.
Martin
Conisby’s Vengeance by Jeffery Farnol.
Winds
of Chance by Jeffery Farnol.
“The
same Top Ten, or however many you may have, any pirate films or TV shows that
you find particularly enjoyable from your informed eye?”
Again, all have some issues with historical accuracy
but are still enjoyable. There still has not been a pirate film or TV show more
than fifty percent accurate to date, with the possible exception of Treasure Island starring
Charlton Heston. More than anything, these are simply my favorites in the genre.
Most are responsible for maintaining many of the pirate myths in our culture.
Captain
Blood, 1935, starring Errol Flynn.
Frenchman’s
Creek, 1944, starring Joan
Fontaine and Arturo de Córdova, it’s one of the few pirate films to actually
show a plan and associated tactics in action.
The
Sea Hawk,
1940, starring Errol Flynn.
The
Black Pirate, 1926, starring Douglas Fairbanks. The
original that set the tone for the genre.
Black
Sails (full disclosure: I was the show’s historical
consultant).
Anne
of the Indies, 1951, starring Jean Peters. Many of the
details are fairly accurate, and ?? swordplay is the equal of (maybe superior
to) the best male swashbuckling actors.
Against
All Flags, 1952, starring Errol Flynn and, wielding
an excellent sword, Maureen O’Hara.
Treasure
Island, a 1990 TV movie starring Charlton Heston, probably
the most accurate pirate film made to date although that’s not necessarily
saying much.
The
Buccaneers, an old TV series starring Robert Shaw.
Many of the details are accurate in spite of the lightweight fare. The
historical consultant gets an A.
The
Black Swan,
1942, starring Tyrone Power and Maureen O’Hara (without a sword this time).
Honorable mentions, but with little piratical
accuracy: The Spanish Main,
1945, starring Paul Henreid and Maureen O’Hara (without a sword, again) and The Crimson Pirate, 1952,
starring Burt Lancaster.
A couple of very guilty pleasures: Cutthroat Island, but only for
the soundtrack and Geena Davis swinging through the rigging with a sword like
Douglas Fairbanks, and Pirates! starring Walter Matthau, mostly for the
sets and costumes.
“What’s
next in the pipeline for Ben Little.”
I’m at work finishing Fortune’s Favorite, the sequel to Fortune’s Whelp (Penmore Press), and should start work on
the final volume in the series soon after. If these work out, I’ll both
continue the adventures of Edward MacNaughton afterward, and go back to his
beginning in the Caribbean as well. The books tell the story of a Scottish
privateer, formerly a buccaneer, returning to the Caribbean as a privateer in
the 1690s. I’m also shopping a non-fiction proposal around for a book looking
into the origins of the real pirates behind Captain Blood, as an excuse to look into, and riff upon,
everything from modern culture to historical errors, from the law to publishing
to sword-collecting, you name it, and so on: The Hunt for Blood’s Buccaneers: Riffs, Rants, and Reflections On
Pirate History and Modern Culture. I’m also shopping a short novel for
middle readers (absolutely nothing to do with piracy), and my wife and I
working on another novel for middle readers, again nothing to do piracy but for
a little bit of swashbuckling. I continue to consult for Firelock Games and
their historically accurate Blood
& Plunder tabletop wargame, plus some other things they have in the
works.
Ben,
again, thank you for taking the time to have this chat. I have found your work
exhilaratingly inspiring. It is just the sort of immersive approach I seek in
the Rough & Tumble side of things. Thanks for the information and the
inspiration!