From a 1769 shipmaster's handbook on my bookshelf: "To be loaden on board the good ship Betsy whereof Captain Jordan is Master under God for this present voyage."
The title sounds formidable: until fairly recently, a ship at sea was an isolated universe, dominated by the god-like figure of the captain. And the inhabitants of this universe were at sea for months, years, at a time. No word from the world outside your wooden walls. Is it any wonder that their perspective of the captain was so awesome?
The term "Master under God" better than anything else sums up our high expectations of the captain as the ultimate authority aboard ship, completely responsible for all the souls and the ship itself and therefore requiring a redeeming sacrifice when things go pear-shaped. It comes as no small surprise, therefore, that most of the blame for the spectacular crash of the Costa Concordia cruise ship off the coast of Tuscany is now being heaped on its captain, Francesco Schettino.
The Victorians popularised the image of the captain going down with his ship as an act of moral responsibility, as it fitted well with the societal and family imperatives of the day. During the loss of the HMS Birkenhead in 1852, the regiment, led by the patriarchal figure of the captain, stood nobly to attention when the ship went down. In fact, nowhere in maritime law does it state that a captain must die with his ship, merely to remain until all souls have been accounted for, but the myth persists, not helped by movies such as Titanic.
And certainly by the time of the Georgian navy, the captain's powers were limited. He could not have a man hanged as the army's Duke of Wellington was wont to do, nor take personal fiefdom of his ship, but there's a delightful anecdote of a ship's captain being introduced to King George III who told him: "It's rather me should bow to you, sir, as having the more puissance than I – you can order a man flogged on the spot, I cannot on peril of the law of this land!" The belief that the captain can conduct marriage services at sea too will have shaped his romantic image, even if the ship being a territory of the flag it flies means this is only true if the country of registration of the ship allows this in its laws. (This is why many British ships are registered in Bermuda these days.)
Returning to events off Italy, I can't help remembering another captain, years ago, when I was a young seaman on the aircraft carrier Melbourne on the night she cut her escorting destroyer in two. I picked myself up in the chaos, but what steadied me most was a short broadcast by the captain, John Phillip Stevenson, over the tannoy minutes later telling us what had happened. He didn't have to do this, but felt it was needed for the sake of those like me. Later, he paid for it at his court-martial, being accused of coaching witnesses. In fact I gave evidence and have a stark memory of a shattered figure in court, my captain. He was eventually cleared of any blame for the incident but died a broken man.
I rather fancy a different fate awaits Schettino in court. It looks like he has let down the nautical side. Cult or otherwise, the captain's chair was occupied by him, a position whose authority stems not from the legalities but the qualities of the captain as the moral heart of his sea world.
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