The outlaw Charles Ross
With the specialist gun auctions getting underway, Roger Field encounters a pair of Purdeys with intriguing provenance and a rifle to punch a hole through steel plate
A CONFESSION: I sometimes over analyse things, a trait I suspect I share with many writers. I’ve recently been fretting about a newly bought WJ Jeffrey boxlock, which is ‘only’ chambered for 2½in cartridges. My chum, Dan – who knows more about shooting than he does trout fishing (sorry, Dan) – insists that lighter loads are more efficient than heavier ones and, given an opportunity, will wax lyrical about ballistics tables and speeds per second. I, however, instinctively want larger and heavier loads on the age-old military (armoured) principle of the more lead in the air the better the chance of, first, hitting something and then, having hit it, killing it. So it is only now, forced to use lighter cartridges in my ‘old’ (1930s) new Jeffrey that I am having to concede he may be right. Point it straight and 2½in, 28g No 6s seem to be doing the business just as well as those 2¾in, 30g No 5s, even on good, high pheasants.
Just to rub it in, he’s been crowing about his latest exploit in the high hills of Yorkshire. Cue dinner the night before: really wealthy Guns, all discussing loads and what have you; perfect stalking territory for a ballistics expert (yawn). Dan argued for his 28g No 6s but could make no headway. Worse still, whilst his side-by-side – another black mark – is chambered for 2¾in, he uses 2½in cartridges. General consensus from the rest of the team: super-duper high birds on the morrow and so 34g No 4s. They deemed him a dumbo. He tells me that he has never shot anywhere like it. The Guns, all experts, left birds as ‘not sporting enough’ that most shoots would have been delighted to see overhead. Then, the inevitable: him in the middle of the line, facing a lone, 70 yards up (plus even) pheasant. Everyone is watching. Some shouts of “You’ll never hit it,” others rather less polite but, as this is a family magazine, I won’t elaborate... He gave the bird more lead than he has any other bird before. Bang! Down. Stone dead. Cue astonishment and – bright guys all – a hasty reappraisal of optimum loads.
Even better, he gave me the answer to something else I am fretting about. I did not have time to have my not new Jeffrey serviced. What if it goes wrong mid shoot? Obvious – and advisable with all old guns – bring a spare. But mid drive? Dan had mid-drive fore-end failure (sounds faintly obscene but it wasn’t) at Lyneham last week. Disaster? No. His loader pulled a roll of black gaffer tape from his pocket and strapped the fore-end to the barrel. The bodge held for the rest of the day. Me? I’m popping a roll into my cartridge bag for my next outing and bringing my also ‘new’, but not new, Powell. Just in case.
Inventor Sir Charles Ross was declared an outlaw; his guns sold for £10,000
Bonhams was first off this winter’s specialist gun auction blocks with its Modern Sporting Guns sale on 25 November (others to follow next month). I was much taken by the back story to a pair of J Purdey & Sons 12-bore self-opening sidelock ejectors with 13⅞in replacement stocks (they were a truly short-arsed generation back then) made in 1893 for Sir Charles Ross: keen shot, big-game hunter and inventor of the ‘straight pull’ Ross rifle, from which he made so much money that he became Britain’s largest landowner, with 366,000 acres to his name. So far, so splendiferous but, in common with many who make serious money, he wanted even more and, in an attempt to confound the taxman, declared his vast estate of Balnagown to be a territory of the United States of America. This cunning plan was as popular with the Chancellor of the Exchequer as a rattlesnake in a lucky dip. The government responded by declaring him ‘an outlaw’. His guns sold for a bottom estimate £10,000.
Just as unpopular with the British in 1918 was the German answer to the upgraded Mk IV tank, which was causing major mayhem on the Western Front, terrifying their soldiers and punching holes in their lines – when they were not breaking down and ‘ditching’ that is, which they did in droves: a 13mm (½in) bolt action Tank-gewehr (literally, ‘tank rifle’) made by Mauser, which could penetrate one inch of steel at 100 yards. It is a hefty brute, which weighs in at 36lb and has a 38in barrel. I don’t even want to imagine the kick. It was the fore-runner of all the anti-tank weaponry that was to come. They only made about 16,000, making the two on sale rare survivors. They smashed through their £1,500-£2,500 estimates, each selling for £6,000.
An item that brought back memories was the ‘rare’ .22 ‘FAL’ semi-automatic rifle by Imbel of Brazil. In essence, this was a (paratroop) folding stock, .22 version of the 7.62mm SLR (self-loading rifle) we British soldiers – and plenty of other armies, including the Argentine – of an increasingly ancient generation used to trog around with. Its war-like credentials obviously appealed to a modern generation of bunny bashers as it buried its £2,500 top estimate to sell for £3,000.
The Bonhams Arms and Armour department had gone ‘over the top’ a day earlier with a mass of goodies; I’m currently reading a fascinating book, The Western Front by Nick Lloyd, hence knowing a bit about those anti-tank rifles. I reckon that the North European cuirassier (cavalry) helmet, circa 1620-30, which sold for a bottom estimate £3,000, represented great value for money, either for a collector starting an armour collection or someone who simply wanted a ‘statement’ piece: imagine it on a sideboard in the dining room or a table in the hall. I’m guessing it might be less than welcome in your drawing room unless, of course, your significant other is a Game of Thrones fan, in which case lucky you. This example simply looked ‘right’; nothing fancy, but ‘strong’ and complete looking. That said, the rear gorget (neck) plate had been ‘expertly’ replaced – some replacements can be shoddy – although this addition perhaps explains why it didn’t reach its top £4,000 estimate. Alternatively, £2,200 (estimate £2,000-£3,000) would have bought you a handsome, but not so strong looking, 1630 Italian cuirassier helmet. It, however, was missing its
I thrilled as a child to the film The Battle of River Plate, and here was the White Ensign flown by HMS Exeter
aesthetically important front gorget plate. Many old helmets do, but it leaves them looking slightly unfinished hence, probably, the lower estimate and price.
Before leaving Bonhams, a rueful adieu to the firm’s lovely little 1½ pounder castiron cannon, early 19th century. Okay, it only had a 26in-long barrel but that makes it small enough to lurk outside the front door of the smaller des res from where it can menace inquisitive planning officers, fanatical bat-control executives and indigent Jehovah’s Witnesses. Sprightly looking on its natty blue gun carriage, I was hoping a financial ship was about to dock as I fancied it. No such luck. It sailed off at an over top estimate £650.
Talking of ships, over to Charles Miller’s maritime sale on 2 November. I thrilled as a child to the 1956 film The Battle of the River Plate, about the Royal Navy’s December 1939 pursuit and eventual defeat of the German ‘pocket battleship’ (because she was so heavily armed for her size), Admiral Graf Spee. And here was the White ‘Battle’ Ensign flown by HMS Exeter, the British flagship, during that momentous engagement. It is a magnificent 6ft x 12ft in size and has an impeccable provenance. It was given to Joseph Lanning, the multi-jobbed Port Stanley (Falkland Islands) harbour master/captain of the local tug/town policeman for his help when the shattered British Squadron limped into harbour for repairs: HMS Exeter being, ‘little more than a floating ruin’. Lanning was not impressed by the gift, writing in his memoir: ‘All I got was a White Ensign she had flown in battle.’ His descendants might beg to differ. This venerable witness of extraordinary days scuttled its £2,000-£3,000 estimate to sell for £25,000.
Sorry, I cannot resist this one – I’ll grow up one day, I promise, but not yet: a 1973, 8in metal bell (always useful) inscribed to Cockchafer, 1973: a navy stores tender. Someone else obviously thought the name a ‘Titter ye not’ giggle, as Frankie Howerd would have said, as it rang its metaphorical clapper (missing) at an over-the-£300-top-estimate £400.
From ships to shipwrecked treasure at Morton & Eden on 26 November. The treasure in question was salvaged from the wreck of the Spanish frigate Nuestra