On Nov. 6, Environment Minister Leona Aglukkaq unveiled the ship’s bell from the recently discovered wreck of Sir John Franklin’s HMS Erebus.
Call me an old fuddy-duddy, but I believe the bell should never have been removed from the ship.
First and foremost, bells are not recovered from warships sunk in battle, as such vessels are considered gravesites. The removal of such an important element as the bell is seen as a desecration. Also, warships, even on the bottom of the sea, remain the property of their national governments (in this case the United Kingdom), not the insurance underwriters, or salvors as is the case with commercial vessels.
But the relationship between the bell and her ship goes much deeper. If the figurehead possessed the ship’s soul, it was the ship’s bell that possessed the ship’s heart.
The bell was used to mark the passage of time being struck each half-hour in the four-hour watch.
For those on watch, eight bells heralded a warm mug-up and sleep. For those being called to duty, it meant four hours of chipping and repainting, mending sails, caulking and scrubbing or working aloft taking in or setting sail.
Big sailing ships had two bells, one aft near the wheel that was struck by a ship’s boy as part of his watch duties, and one forward that was struck by the lookout.
It has always been seen as unlucky to change the name of a ship, although the pride of new ownership causes it to happen frequently. Though the name on the headboards might change, the original forward bell, with the ship’s original name, was always kept.
The custom up until the 18th century was to house the larger ship’s bell in an ornate shrine aft at the quarterdeck break. Those boarding the vessel would automatically bow before the cross surmounting the belfry as one would bow before the altar in a church.
The custom of the religious shrine aft dated back to Roman times, when every seagoing vessel carried an altar set up on the poop to honour the ship’s tutela or patron goddess. (The word poop for the aftermost deck comes from the Latin puppis, or stern, which in turn comes from the small image of the god or goddess kept there.)
In the 17th century, the belfry was moved forward to the forecastle break and the national flag replaced the cross as the object of veneration.
In the Royal Navy and Royal Canadian Navy, the ship’s bell is used as a font for the christening of children born to the families of the men serving in the vessel. This is done by taking down the bell and inverting it in a special cradle draped with the ship’s ensign. This service is seen to not only baptize the child into the church, but into the navy and the ship’s company as well.
After the baptismal service, the blessed water from the font is poured over the side to mingle with the waters of the ocean in memory of the Feast of Theophany. It is believed that the blessings and promises made during the service will protect the child on whichever waters of the Earth he or she may travel. Following the baptism ceremony, the child’s name is engraved upon the bell.
In pre-ecumenical days in the Royal Navy when the Church of England ruled the waves, 9 a.m. “Divisions” (two bells in the forenoon watch) were followed by “Prayers” announced by the tolling of a bell.
There was a belief that when a vessel sank, her bell would ring one last time, even if the bell cord and clapper had been lashed against the storm. It was also believed that if the ship’s bell rang by itself that another ship had either foundered or been wrecked.
To accidentally ring the bell or make a glass ring, such as in the clinking of glasses in a toast, could result in the loss of another vessel or the death of a sailor. Regarding the latter, it has been said that the devil “will take two soldiers in lieu” if the ringing is stopped.
Richard Mackenzie of Saanich is a maritime researcher and retired collections and exhibitions manager of the Maritime Museum of B.C.
