In the comments following Additional Examples of Maritime Case Furniture there was some conjecture about the proliferation of cabin furniture on board ship in the eighteenth-century and how it was secured while on the high seas. A fair amount of quality eighteenth-century maritime furniture survives and along with conventional tables and chairs, cabins were ostensibly well furnished… even while at sea.

Figure 1 shows a watercolour by the antiquarian and chronicler, The Reverend Thomas Streatfeild (1777–1848), depicting two army officers sitting on (and amongst) chairs around a baize-covered table. The ship may not be riding a tempest; however, it is clearly underway as evidenced by the helmsman at the wheel.

Fig. 1. The Reverend Thomas Streatfeild, A cabin scene with two army officers sitting and reading at a table, circa 1820.

Notwithstanding it is a cartoon (though it does bear the inscription ‘Done from an Original Drawing by a British Officer’), the coloured print shown in figure 2 depicts Sir Roger Curtis (in the guise of a dog) at the feet of First Admiral of the Fleet, Lord Howe. The furniture and accoutrements are accurately rendered and contemporary, so one must assume they were all typical contents of an admiral’s cabin… right down to the pot sitting atop the commode stool.

Fig. 2. H. Humphrey, What a Cur’tis!, circa 1795.

Thomas Rowlandson’s print shown in figure 3 has two Naval officers sitting on contemporary upholstered chairs (despite there being adequate fixed seating around the cabin), while a third figure pours tea at a drop-leaf table. The ship is evidently heaving as the officers are betting on the movement of a plumb-bob and the manservant is restraining the table with his foot as he struggles to keep the tea in a cup.

Fig. 3. Thomas Rowlandson, Sea Amusement, circa 1785.

Not being a sage tar, I had speculated that loose furniture may have been lashed to hooks or eyes attached to the ship’s bulkheads or decks. A reader opined that the captain of a ship might have taken a dim view of people drilling holes in his vessel. I countered that captains and masters weren’t in the least bit discommoded by the odd spike or other fastening being driven into their timbers. Pictures immediately to hand would tend to support this.

In a second watercolour by The Reverend Thomas Streatfeild (fig. 4) a landlubber is reposing on a contemporary (Regency) chair – in an otherwise sparsely appointed cabin – beside his canvas-covered sea chest which appears to be lashed to either the deck or bulkhead.

Fig. 4. The Reverend Thomas Streatfeild, A cabin scene with a man relaxing in a chair, circa 1820.

Pocock’s watercolour (fig. 5) portrays four, seemingly largely unfazed, figures in the cabin of a violently rolling ship examining a chart upon a table. The characters at either end of the table appear to gain some support from the table which one would naturally assume would be highly mobile in such circumstances and therefore, insecure… until one observes the rope tethering the table to a ring on the floor between the boy’s feet. Presumably there would have been a second tether at the opposite end of the table.

Fig. 5. Nicholas Pocock, The Consultation, circa 1810.

Of course, even the best housekeeping on board ship could come undone on occasion (fig. 6).

Fig. 6. George Cruikshank, An Interesting scene on board an East-Indiaman, showing the Effects of a heavy Lurch, after dinner, circa 1818. (ANMM)

Whether on land or at sea, there’s nothing like a fracas, to set a terrier off!

Jack Plane