Research Day 1: In which a log book could have killed me.

Once my dad got over the fact that the maitre d' at breakfast looked "like Mr. Bean's cousin," we took a boat down the Thames to Greenwich. (This time, he didn't miss Westminster.) En route, we saw a giant rubber duck near the Tower of London. Also, I learned that the word "wharf" is apparently an acronym for "Ware House At River Front." I'm still debating whether or not that's true--I don't fully trust the Cockney who told us. Rather shady fellow, if you ask me, and he most certainly wasn't a qualified historian. And without much further ado, we made it to Greenwich and moseyed up to the National Maritime Museum.

Ooooh, aaah... So close to the Prime Meridian!

I had three Lieutenant's logs waiting for me. However, one of the logs for HMS Scorpion had been treated with a mystery chemical at some point during the 1960s. It had to be sent to conservation for testing. Unfortunately, I don't know if or when I'll be able to look at it--hopefully it doesn't contain the secrets to Lord William Campbell's life. (I highly doubt it, so don't be too concerned.) Anyway, the first book I looked at, the not-potentially-hazardous-for-my-health log, was surprisingly helpful. Just so we're on the same page for what exactly it is I'm piddling through at a naval archive:

ADM L/S/570: A Journal of the Proceedings of his Majesty's Ship Scorpion, August 3, 1775 - August 3, 1776

And, it left me feeling pretty good about this whole "research" thing. Why? Because this.

Friday, December 15, 1775 - The rum will never be gone.

"Supplied Lord Wm. Campbell with 117 Galls. Rum." 117 gallons of rum. Lord William Campbell. Rum. Commence fangirling. And, besides this, I found some interesting tidbits about other royal governors and what was going on in Charleston Harbor in the fall and winter of 1775. (Basically, on September 15, 1775, Campbell rowed out in the dead of the night to a ship and started running his government from there. The Provincial Congress wrote to him asking what in God's name he thought he was doing; he responded--to paraphrase--that he knew everyone hated him, they sucked, and he would feel safer on board until things simmered down in town, which would be never. He was pretty smart to split, though, since some in Congress were demanding his arrest anyway. End history lesson.)

I requested several other logs which I will return to look at on Thursday. The library is open until 7pm, so that will give me a longer stretch of time to get warm and cozy with these things.

After that rewarding morning/afternoon research session, I dragged my dad to the Nelson display and broadside caricatures I mentioned yesterday. The Nelson display was just as incredibly super awesome as I expected. For one, they had his stockings. 

Horatio Nelson's feet (and calves) were in those!!

Secondly, this happened and, in my only moment of composure, Dad snapped a picture for me.

Nelson's uniform asdl;gjasdljg;lasdjg;lajsdl;gjas;ldgj

And here's a little taste of the broadsides. Yes, the sailors are saying "Huzza!"

Where's Professor Brunsman when you need him?

My dad also invented a new fad: figureheading. It's, like, the new planking or owling. You'll hear about it in eight months. After that little sojourn, we wandered around Greenwich proper, drank spiced cider with brandy (like a hot toddy, but stronger), and then headed back to Westminster. We had dinner in Covent Garden, and, figuring I deserved it, I ordered a St. Peter's Best Bitter beer. Honestly, if everyone was rewarded beer for researching, I think people would be more inclined to do it. Oh, and I bought a Nelson ornament. No shame.

"God and my Christmas tree." –Nelson's last words at Trafalgar