Log-book of Timothy Boardman Kept on Board the Privateer Oliver Cromwell, During a Cruise from New London, Ct., to Charleston, S. C., and Return, in 1778; Also, a — Context and Discussion

A Diary Without a View to Publication

The preface emphasizes that the log-book was kept as a private diary, not intended for an audience. This is evident in the manuscript's physical state: coarse, unruled paper. The secretary's comment that the author's grandson expected “dry details” suggests that the log-book's value lies in its unpolished, factual entries. Readers should approach the text as a raw source, where the absence of literary polish may reveal authentic concerns of a sailor in 1778. The diary covers two cruises—the second from New London to Charleston, and the third the return—but the first cruise's log is missing, leaving gaps that hint at the contingencies of record-keeping during wartime.

The Biographical Sketch as a Counterpoint

The biographical sketch, written by the author's grandson, presents Timothy Boardman as a devout Puritan figure: “a son of the Puritans and of the Connecticut type.” It details his strict household, where his wife and children waited until he was seated at the table, and his lifelong support for missionary societies. The sketch also notes that in old age he became a maniac, with incoherent expressions “full of charges against the ‘British.’” This detail connects his Revolutionary War service to later mental distress, suggesting that the log-book's terse entries may mask deeper trauma. Readers can compare the diary's factual tone with the sketch's hagiographic portrait to see how memory reshapes experience.

The Cedar Swamp and Economic Details

The biographical sketch includes a curious passage about a “Cedar Swamp” lot that Boardman owned, valued for cedar posts and white sand used for scouring and ornamentation. This economic detail—along with the note that he gave each son six hundred dollars at settlement and left eight hundred at death—grounds the narrative in the material realities of a pioneer farmer. The log-book itself likely contains similar mundane observations about supplies, weather, and shipboard life. Readers should watch for such details, as they provide the “side lights” that the preface promises, illuminating the intersection of military service and domestic economy.

The Missing First Cruise and Textual Gaps

The preface states that the log-book of the first cruise “was either lost, never kept, or Mr. Boardman was not one of the crew to keep it.” This uncertainty highlights the fragmentary nature of historical records. The surviving log covers only the second and third cruises, leaving readers to wonder what the first might have contained. Additionally, the transcriber's note warns that “inconsistent spellings and hyphenations have been left as printed,” preserving the original's quirks. These textual gaps and inconsistencies are not flaws but features that invite readers to consider how the document was produced, preserved, and edited.

As you read, attend to the tension between the log-book's spare entries and the biographical sketch's moral framework. The diary may seem uneventful, but its very ordinariness—the weather, the ship's movements, the daily tasks—offers a counterpoint to the sketch's portrait of piety. Consider how the same man who recorded mundane details also, decades later, raved against the British. The gaps and inconsistencies are not obstacles but invitations to read between the lines.

There’s something tender in how Boardman’s youthful sea-log later reads against his grandson’s sober remembrance—the same man, two temperaments, one life. It makes me think of the old signals in S.O.S. Stand to! — Background and Themes, where the call to action lingers long after the deck goes quiet. History keeps its own hours, doesn’t it?