British navy sailed on sea of plum duff

Our guest columnist today is Wayne Kruse, husband of Judyrae and writer of The Herald’s hunting and fishing stories.

I have not yet seen the movie "Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World," a story of seagoing derring-do which takes place during the Napoleonic wars of the early 1800s. It concerns the wooden ships and iron men of the British Navy, and is taken from the excellent series of novels by Patrick O’Brian.

But when I finally do get a chance to watch the film (having read the books), I thoroughly expect to see — somewhere between the swash and the buckle, somewhere before the howl of hurricane-force winds tear the rigging and sails to shreds; sometime after sweating crews around the "great guns" have poured out a lethal broadside of heavy metal against a French frigate — I thoroughly expect to see, I repeat, the crew of Capt. Jack Aubrey’s battered vessel sitting down to a meal which ends with plum duff for all hands.

Because, for those of us who thrill to the annals of naval military history, the Royal Navy and plum duff are pretty much synonymous. Read Hornblower, read Aubrey, read the stories of Napoleon or the War of 1812, and there’s plum duff. Right alongside oak, tar, canvas and grog, keeping the navy going. The ubiquitous plum duff. Aboard the Wasp, aboard the Otter, aboard the Victory, aboard Sophie and Indestructable and Boadicea. Plum duff. Always.

I don’t know exactly what it is, but then neither do I know exactly what the fore t’gallant stays’l’ " is, either. I do know, however, that both were crucial to keeping a wooden man o’ war afloat and in fighting trim.

Plum duff must have been some type of dessert; a kind of pudding, perhaps? It was apparently served once a week, on Sunday, as a special treat. It was also used, according to O’Brian’s novels, as a motivator.

"The Mauritius Command," fourth in the 20-book series, has Aubrey and his ship in a long, slow, sweltering chase in the Indian Ocean. He’s gaining on his French quarry, but very, very slowly because of a lack of wind. The ship and its crew have been in sight of the enemy for over a week and thus in a state of hyper-readiness, at their sailing stations. That has included cold meals of biscuit and salt beef instead of hot food. And, more importantly, instead of plum duff.

But they’re getting closer and, finally, the first lieutenant says to Aubrey, "Shall I have the ship cleared for action, Captain?"

Aubrey ponders. Grim faces all around, as half the crew eavesdrops on the quarterdeck conversation. Cold food again? Eaten at the guns?

"No, lieutenant," Aubrey says. "That would be premature, I believe. The men have been on cold rations for too long, so let’s have a hot dinner and a double helping of duff. We’ll keep the grog ration at half, however."

Aubrey didn’t want a bunch of half-stiff gunners on the big smoothbores should the chase situation suddenly change, so he kept a conservative lid on the rum. But the crew, hearing the rumor of double plum duff being passed swiftly through the ship, couldn’t have cared less. Smiling, cheerful faces all around, ready for dinner and the Frenchman, in that order.

It’s hard to believe that plum duff contained real plums, given that food aboard the warships was either dried, salted, or alive in the form of chickens, ducks, pigs and sheep. Fresh fruit and vegetables were only available for the few days they would last, after the ship had watered and victualed in a friendly port.

So was this dessert made with dried plums? Or maybe raisins? How did it differ from "spotted dick," another Brit classic about which I know even less? British puddings — many of them, anyway — were nothing like the light, sweet, confections we all here and now know and love as "pudding." Some of them contained suet, bits of meat, herbs, spices, and other strange stuff. More like a mincemeat pie, maybe. Am I right?

It would be intellectually satisfying to know more about this product which obviously paved the way for Lord Nelson’s great victory at Trafalgar. Some say it was a combination of weather, luck and superior tactics which won the day there, for the Royal Navy. But it wasn’t. It was plum duff.

So, whether you be a Patrick O’Brian fan or not, if you have some info or background and maybe — even better yet — a recipe to go along with it for this plum duff stuff, please write to Judyrae Kruse at the Forum, c/o The Herald, P.O. Box 930, Everett, WA 98206.

We are always happy to receive your contributions and requests. However, all letters and all e-mail must include a name, complete address with ZIP code and telephone number with area code. No exceptions, and no response to e-mail by return e-mail; send to kruse@heraldnet.com.

The next Forum will appear in Friday’s Time Out section.