RalphRackstraw

I admire Lady Frances being up for her next cruise. Sounds wunderbar. Also, I am impressed that you survived Mardis Gras and the Star. It must have been a bit of a head-turner for folks from the Pacific Northwest to enter the fray of festivities in Nawl 'leans.

 

I can only wonder what kind of suntan you enjoyed, going from the Great Northwest to the Caribbean. Whew. Quite the dichotomy. And a tip of the hat to Marion for inspiring Lady Frances's next cruise.

 

Good to hear from you, Ralph.

 

Ruby

Ruby,

Thank you for your comments, gracious as always. Mardi Gras weekend in Nouvelle Orléans was quite exhilirating and not intimidating, though we stayed out of the French Quarter Friday and Saturday nights. With careful application of sunscreen, I survived tours of the Mayan ruins in the Yucatan and Belize without dermal trauma. Ocean-kayaking off the shore of Roatan Island, Honduras, my right upper arm got splashed too much with seawater, washing off the sunscreen and allowing a moderately nasty burn --- but it was worth it! It was also romantic celebrating Valentine's dinner in the same shipboard restaurant where we celebrated our 25th anniversary in 2009.;) Peeling is all done now, and we are happily processing our 450 photographs.

I expect Donald will return with some spectacular views of Hawaii!

Good morrow, gentle discussants!

I have been away from this thread a very long time --- I may never re-qualify for the read-every-post Ph.D. in shipboard sociology --- but I have thought of you all quite frequently. This very week, the association was jogged vigorously when I booked passage on the CTMA Vacancier for the 6-13 September 2013 "Gourmet Québec" special itinerary cruise, remembering that our adventurous Australian friends blazed that uncommon trail.

The occasion is rather a special one: my dear mother, Lady Frances Rackstraw, just turned 91, has been feeling the yearning to go to sea again. Her last cruise was our transatlantic crossing on RMS Queen Elizabeth in July 1966! My eldest son and daughter-in-law, happily established in Montréal since November 2011, have been yearning to spend some time with Lady Frances. I have been yearning to try the CTMA Vacancier ever since I learned of its existence through this very thread. These yearnings have all intertwined gloriously in this upcoming cruise for the four of us.

Since you last heard from me, my lady and I enjoyed our first visit to New Orleans 7-10 February, plunging into the Mardi Gras weekend festivities, and then sailed on the Norwegian Star for a week in the Western Caribbean. Great fun was had by all. I even composed a song with which our Roll Call group serenaded the ship's officers at the meet & greet.

Hoping you are all well and cheerful, I remain, prodigally yours,

 

To Ralph - the August 2012 Conde Nast Traveler has a nice article about kayaking in Alaska. I assume you have done quite a lot of that sport in that area but you might want to check it out.

 

Ruby

Hello there, and thanks for remembering me! :) I have been lurking from time to time. Alas, I have not kayaked Alaskan waters...yet! On my wish list are the Inside Passage cruises offered by InnerSea Discoveries aboard the Wilderness Adventurer (60 passengers) or Wilderness Discoverer (76 p.); each vessel carries several kayaks, inflatable skiffs, and paddle boards to launch off the stern for up-close and personal encounters with nature. I just have to talk the Missus into it. She seems to have other travel priorities at the moment.

Our next expedition takes us to Washington's Olympic Peninsula 12-25 August (bringing kayak). 17-18 August we plan to ferry over to Victoria, British Columbia. That will place us within waving distance of Kapricorn Kountry!

I like Ralph's kayaks much better than Epic or Allure OTS.

 

Ruby

For those harboring fond nostalgic memories of Montréal, here I am with my wife and daughter-in-law on the belvedere in Parc Mont-Royal, 27 March 2012, well below freezing and with a stiff breeze blowing:

Yes, I finally bought the McGill University jacket I couldn't afford back in 1977... :D

 

Ruby - isn't Chateau Frontenac in Quebec City or are there two by that name ?

 

Indeed, the Chateau Frontenac is the magnificent crowning feature of the Upper Town in Quebec City. In Montreal, Ruby and family must have stayed at The Queen Elizabeth. This is confirmed by the following lightly-edited passage from the hotel history:

It is rare indeed, for a hotel to be celebrated internationally, but even rarer for it to attain a world-class reputation right from the beginning. From the moment this luxury hotel in Montreal opened its doors in 1958, Fairmont The Queen Elizabeth has welcomed queens, princes and princesses, heads of state and international business leaders.

Political dignitaries include the Queen Mother, Queen Elizabeth II and the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Charles, General Charles de Gaulle, former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi of India, Zhao Ziyang of China, His Highness Felipe of Spain, Jacques Chirac, Nelson Mandela, the Dalai Lama, Mikhail Gorbachev, President Jimmy Carter and Henry Kissinger. The celebrity guest list covers Perry Como, Harry Belafonte, Joan Crawford, Saga Ruby, John Travolta, Mikhail Baryshnikov, Louis Malle and, perhaps most famous of all, John Lennon, who held his famous 'bed-in' in 1969 in Suite 1742, where the song Give Peace a Chance was written and recorded.

Fairmont The Queen Elizabeth hotel in Montreal was chosen as the headquarters for the 1976 International Olympic Games, and, during Expo '67, fifty of the sixty visiting heads of state stayed in its luxurious suites.

But it's not only the famous that have stayed at Fairmont The Queen Elizabeth, Montreal's distinguished luxury hotel. Since it first opened its doors in 1958, the stately hotel has greeted some 22 million business and leisure travelers seeking convenience of location, impeccable service and understated luxury.

I am a Big Fan of the Louise Penny series of books about Chief Inspector Armand Gamache based in this part of the country. Her books are excellent reading and I always look forward to the publication of the next mystery. Her descriptions of that area of the nation make me want to pack a bag and Marion gives me the road map.

Ruby

If you like the mystery/crime genre with atmosphere, I recommend The Main, a 1976 novel set in Montreal by Rodney Whitaker, who wrote under the nom de plume Trevanian. The title comes from the nickname of Boulevard Saint-Laurent, the principal street running from the docks up into the city; generations of immigrants, Jewish, Greek, Portuguese, Chinese, etc. migrated up that street and established vibrant ethnic neighborhoods. The Plateau, north and east of Mount Royal, is still the most diverse and exciting area of the city, where my son and d-in-law have the good fortune to live, and where we will be staying. Can't wait to try the Greek restaurants, the bagel bakeries, the smoked meat at Schwartz's... :D

One more week, and the family will be gathered in Montréal, where my eldest son and daughter-in-law have been living since November. No cruise this time, but I have planted a seed for the future: my daughter-in-law is pleased with the information I sent her about the CTMA Vacancier excursions to the Iles de la Madeleine http://www.ctma.ca/traversier-madeleine/index_ang.cfm, so nicely reviewed by MMDownUnder, and this may feature in a summer visit one year. :cool:

Meanwhile, it is March in Québec, and as Donald may well remember, 'tis the season for sugaring-off parties as the maple trees are tapped and the sap boiled down to fresh maple syrup. We will be at the Sucrerie Massicotte, http://www.laperade.qc.ca/massicotte/ near Trois-Rivières for mid-day dinner on 24 March.

This is my first return to Montréal since graduating from medical school at McGill University in 1981. My youngest son is considering attending graduate school in Sociology at McGill, so our family links to the city may be multiplying... :)

Ralph - Your mother's attitude toward further adventures at the age of 90 is admirable. I have to smile at her comment about visiting in Europe with old friends - she is lucky to have friends her own age to visit. She seems to be the Rackstraw version of Betty White. Do you think that she has the Methuselah gene? Here's to many more adventures for her.

Ruby

Indeed, Mom and Betty were born just a few weeks apart. We sent her a copy of Betty White's autobiography as a birthday present, and she loved it! :)

Good Morrow, Discussants!

Let it be known that our good Lady Frances Rackstraw, alias "Mom", was born on 16 February 1922, and celebrates her 90th birthday today.

In our telephone conversation this morning, she sounded well and chipper. She said she is considering a trip to Europe to visit old friends, and has a yen to try a European river cruise: "It's only a few thousand dollars, and what am I saving it for? I don't want to die of boredom!" I heartily endorse this ambition and the adventurous spirit behind it! :D

That's Sigurd OLSON, not OLSEN.

A little more of his essay:

If the waves are rolling and you are forced to make your way against them, there is the joy of battle, each comber an enemy to be thwarted, a problem in approach and defense. A day in the teeth of a gale --- dodging from island to island, fighting one's way along the lee shore of some wind-swept point, only to dash out again into the churning water and the full force of the wind, then to do it again and again --- is assurance that your sleep will be deep and your dreams profound.

 

Almost as great a challenge is running with the waves down some lake where the wind has a long unbroken sweep. Riding the rollers takes more than skill with a paddle; it takes an almost intuitive sense of the weight and size of them and a knowledge of how they will break behind you. A bad move may mean that a comber will wash the gunwales. A man must know not only his canoe and what it will do, but the meaning of the waves building up behind him. This is attack from the rear without a chance of looking back, a guessing at a power and lifting force that he cannot see. But what a fierce joy to be riding with a thousand white-maned horses racing with the wind down some wild waterway toward the blue horizons!

Thank you, Ruby, but the master poet of the Quetico-Superior country was Sigurd F. Olsen. I own and treasure most of his books. One of the best is The Singing Wilderness, 1956, and my favorite essay in that book is "The Way of a Canoe". Here are the first few lines:

The movement of a canoe is like a reed in the wind. Silence is part of it, and the sounds of lapping water, bird songs, and wind in the trees. It is part of the medium through which it floats, the sky, the water, the shores.

 

A man is part of his canoe and therefore part of all it knows. The instant he dips a paddle, he flows as it flows, the canoe yielding to his slightest touch, responsive to his every whim and thought. The paddle is an extension of his arm, as his arm is part of his body. Skiing down a good slope with the snow just right comes close to it, with the lightness of near-flight, the translating of even a whisper of a wish into swift action; there, too, is a sense of harmony and oneness with the earth. But to the canoeman there is nothing that compares with the joy he knows when a paddle is in his hand.

I'm sure that Sigurd Olsen's works are available for Kindle, and would afford any thoughtful reader much enjoyment. :)

Digression - I wish I wish I wish I could see the current display of aurora borealis. When I watched the Southern Cross sink over the horizon outside of Oz, it was a personal thrill. I've been to Far North so many times in the endless summer lights which wash any light display out of the sky. Have y'all seen these lights? They are the last on my bucket list and I have small hope of seeing this exciting display in the future. I am unwilling to go to Far North in zero-degree weather so . . . .

 

Ruby

I had the privilege of viewing the Northern Lights on an August night during a week-long wilderness canoe trip in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area --- it must have been around 1982. It appeared as shifting columns of ghostly white light spanning the sky.

The Boundary Waters (so called because they straddle the border between Minnesota and Ontario, north of Lake Superior) are a special, magical place, kept protected and pristine: no permanent buildings, no roads, no motorboats, only canoes and kayaks allowed, and aircraft are not allowed to fly over. The result is utter peace, with no noise but the cries of the loons, and lakes so clean you can drink out of them. With no light pollution, the sky is a glorious carpet of stars, with the Milky Way clearly discerned. One of my favorite things was to take a canoe out on a mirror-still lake after dark, then lie in the bottom of the canoe staring up at the stars. When you're relaxed enough, it feels like you're floating free in the Universe!

The Boundary Waters are also special to me as the place where I fell in love. I had picked up the habit of widerness canoeing while a medical student in Canada, and joined the American Youth Hostels Chicago chapter to pursue that. Diane was the chairperson of the canoeing section. We became acquainted over several weekend trips, but I was pretty shy. When we signed up for the Boundary Waters trip, she used the power of her office to place me in the group she was leading (no more than 8 canoes, 16 people allowed in each travelling/camping party). As group leader, she had to assign two people to each canoe; somehow I ended up in hers. The heavier person (the guy) always occupies the rear seat in a canoe, so for a full week she was always in my sight, framed by the Garden-of-Eden beauty of the wilderness, and we talked and talked; I sang her the canoeing songs of the French-Canadian voyageurs, and we sang together the songs of Gordon Lightfoot we both knew by heart. We've been together ever since! ;)

The wreck of the Costa Concordia is dreadfully sad --- and a salutary reminder that every person who goes down to the sea in ships faces a measure of peril. Our thoughts go out to the dead, the missing, the injured, the frightened, and all those trying to ease the suffering.

Cruise Critic Message Boards > Cruise Lines "A - O" > Cunard Line > koo-nard or cue-nard?

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meaty_petey

May 4th, 2007, 11:27 AM

How did Monsieur Cunard pronounce his name? Was the emphasis on the first or last syllable? (If this has question alredy been asked then I apologize - I could not find such a post when I searched the forum).

 

Peter

NovaScotian

May 4th, 2007, 11:50 AM

In Halifax where Mr. Cunard was born we pronounce ka-nard.

guernseyguy

May 4th, 2007, 11:59 AM

 

It has - but I can't find it either. The Oxford English dictionary has:

 

Cunarder: /kju:'na:de/ - the last 'e' is upside down - which I think translates as 'Kew naad er - so it would be 'Kew naad'. Its certainly not Koooooonard!

 

Peter

guernseyguy

May 4th, 2007, 12:01 PM

In Halifax where Mr. Cunard was born we pronounce ka-nard.

 

You do now, how did you pronounce it 220 years ago when he was born?

Druke I

May 4th, 2007, 12:06 PM

Pronounced ka-nard? That sounds like how the French pronounce duck.

sailwithme56

May 4th, 2007, 01:15 PM

Pronounced ka-nard? That sounds like how the French pronounce duck.

I just got back from the QM2. EVERYONE associated with the cruise line pronounced it Cue-NARD with the accent on "nard."

Dr. Cocktail

May 4th, 2007, 01:30 PM

It's pronouned: Car - ni - val!

 

(or is "Car - ni - vil" or maybe "Car -ni - vaal" or just good 'ol "Car - n -evil"!)

meaty_petey

May 4th, 2007, 01:49 PM

I just got back from the QM2. EVERYONE associated with the cruise line pronounced it Cue-NARD with the accent on "nard."

 

If it's good enough for the employees then it's good enough for me! I had always assumed that was the pronunciation but just recently I heard the alternative in two different circumstances. Thanks everyone for clearing this up.

 

(And may I say again that after spending 9 months on the Carnival boards it is so refreshing to read posts written in complete sentences with correct spelling and a tasteful lack of oversized flashing signatures. God bless you people.)

 

Peter

pb82

May 4th, 2007, 03:02 PM

How did Monsieur Cunard pronounce his name? Was the emphasis on the first or last syllable? ...

The best advice on pronunciation is by William Strunk, Jr., and E. B. White in "The Elements of Style":

 

If you don't know how to pronounce a word, say it loud! ... Why compound ignorance with inaudibility? Why run and hide?

 

PennyAgain

May 5th, 2007, 08:49 AM

Roger Donaldson, chief wine steward on the QE2 prior to his retirement was a 55 year Cunard employee. He pronounced it as in the French way of pronouncing 'duck'. Ka-nard. He retired from Cunard in 1978.

 

The change in pronounciation by current employees may be due to the international nature of the people who now work for that company.

e.durban

May 5th, 2007, 10:41 AM

There are various 1930's British newsreels featuring the restart of work on, and the eventual launch of, the original Queen Mary. The announcer always pronounces the company name Cue-NARD (accent on last syllable.) Best. David

Lanky Lad

May 5th, 2007, 12:48 PM

It would be very apt if the name Cunard did derive from the French for Duck. Just think of all those people who have crossed the Atlantic on a duck.

The plot thickens! Notice that in this 2007 thread, the always-thoughtful and much-missed Druke I added a comment.

Americans always say cooNARD, The Brits say QUEUEnard - take your pick :)

On the Cunard board, there is a thread discussing difference between British and American English, on which I found this:

Quote:

Originally Posted by fizzy1

how do you all pronouce Cunard , i was having this arguement with my adult son, he says it,s CU-nard, with the accent on the first syllable, but i say it's cu-NARD, the stress being on the second syllable, what do you all think?

 

Son is right. CYU-nard.

 

Best thing to do is just get on the ship quickly and sort out the pronounciation onboard. ;)

I wonder how Samuel Cunard of Halifax, Nova Scotia pronounced his name? :confused:

What is the proper pronunciation? Coo-nard or Kyoo-nard? And what is the source for your answer?

 

Thanks!

 

Ruby

I believe the proper pronunciation is "coo-NARD", with the accent on the second sylLABle. That is how I recall hearing it aboard the QE2 in 1994, back when the ships were British-registered and the line had not yet been bought by the Carnivore Corporation. In days of yore. Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end, we'd sing and dance forever and a day, we'd live the life we choose, we'd fight and never lose, for we were young, and sure to have our way... ;)

My friends, let me distract you from the winter doldrums with a further account of the 1884 travels of the peripatetic centenarian, Minor "Lee" Meriwether, aboard the SS Independente:

A few minutes before pulling out of Genoa there was a great bustle in the cabin. The waiters rushed backward and forward getting easy-chairs, arranging cushions, and spreading awnings. This commotion was on account of Baron Rothschild, of Vienna, who, with his wife, secretary, and a retinue of servants, was on his way to Sicily, and thence to Corfu and the Grecian Isles. The famous financier is a cadaverous-looking man, sallow and sickly. The baroness, his first cousin, also his wife, atones for the baron's lack of charms. She has a commanding presence, fine features and form, and a gracious, winning manner.

 

As an offset to this increase to the cabin passenger list, a company of soldiers and a lot of convicts on their way to some island dungeon were taken into steerage at Leghorn. They were heavily chained in couples, and again by one long chain fastened to their feet. Except at meal-times, when the right hand was freed, they remained in this miserable condition, unable to sleep themselves, and preventing others from sleeping by the horrible clanking of their fetters.

 

The last week of the voyage in the Mediterranean passes like a dream. The vessel sails along the Spanish coast witin full view of old Moorish castles and modern lighthouses, passes near the Chateau d'If, Monte Cristo's prison, on by Corsica and Elba, places of Napoleon's birth and exile, and at last, on the morning of the twenty-second day, glides into the beautiful bay of Naples.

So hopefully I will feel like I'm going on a cruise soon - Monday in fact! Then three and a half blissful (I hope) weeks doing very little indeed.

All best wishes to our distinguished authoress! One hopes you will not be too blissfully relaxed to post an occasonal update of your adventures --- it is always a joy to travel by proxy through your words and photos.

I have been collecting brochures to enrich my wish-list of possible cruises. A new one arrived today from Voyages of Discovery, with mention of an activity that I had not previously seen offered: "On a number of our cruises we offer a 'choir at sea' for people of all abilities..." How about that! :D

Having seen a great many photographs of the other contributors to this jolly forum, and displayed images of Ralph up to the brink of age 11, I suppose I should share a photo of my current self:

This is me on 2 September 2011, in the estuary of the Coquille River near Bandon, Oregon, having taken my yacht into salt water for the first time. The next day, launching at Sunset Cove on Cape Arago, I took her out past the breakers onto the Pacific Ocean swells.

I keep going back to the SS France brochures and many thanks for posting those pages. Reading the advertised highlights of the ship including "most cabins have private toilets" and the exciting new facilities for kids and teens is a walk down Memory Lane.

Then you should love these excerpts from the Passenger List!

Ralph - Your stories about being a young lad with 3 other brothers and the, um, exciting escapades both inside and outside your cabin made me smile. I am one of two sisters and we were raised to be southern ladies. None of this "getting in some good hits" concept. Altho' one day as an early teen, I was drinking some water and my sister screamed, "Don't spit that on me!" The thought never crossed my mind until she yelled. So what's a kid gonna do?

 

Ruby

Why, lands sakes, honeychile, isn't it true that every Southern Belle is a steel magnolia, with a cute li'l ol' set of brass knuckles concealed in her elegant corsage? ;)

Here is the cover of the Liste de Passagers:

Here are the opening pages, with the schedule of transatlantic crossings and cruises for the 1965-66 season, and the principal ship's officers.

Befitting those days of intense national pride in flagship liners, notice that all the officers have good French names (Bruschi, the Assistant Purser for Tourist Class, is probably a Corsican). Notice also the little symbols to the right of some of the names. The first symbol following the name of Captain Ropars is the Ordre national de la Légion d'honneur, awarded to a select few Frenchmen with over 20 years of outstanding and distinguished professional achievement, rising above the ordinary and contributing to the welfare of others, while meeting the highest standards of ethical and honorable conduct. Such are the Captain, the First Officer, the Chief Engineer, and the Chief Physician. The smaller medal to the right is the Ordre du Mérite Maritime, awarded to merchant mariners for distinguished and/or heroic service. In addition, Chief Engineer Georges Bouey holds the Croix de Guerre 39/45 for heroic service in WW II. The "O" after the names of Chief Engineer Bouey and Chief Radioman Yvon Anne indicate that they hold the rank of Officier in their repective Orders, a step above the basic Chevalier. Quite a crew! :)

Indeed, welcome home, Conte! Time to polish up your memories of the France.

Ralph - The photos from Lady Rackstraw leave me misty-eyed. My parents sailed out of NYC on S.S. France and I attended the Bon Voyage party where a waiter taught me to pronounce correctly un peu. Those vivid Art Deco colours in the suites were a hoot. The photo of the four Rackstraw brothers looks like a Flemish painting, perhaps Night Watch? Loverly. Did you and your freres behave yourselves on that crossing and, if so, why?

Ruby

Here are the deck plans Mother provided. As she reminded me, Lord Rackstraw flew to the States separately in July 1965, so Her Ladyship was left alone to ride herd on the thundering mob of Rackstraw lads. She wisely booked a single cabin for herself, and a 4-berth (two bunk beds) for the juveniles. It was an inside cabin, probably P.233, marked with an X. My most vivid memory is of the absolute darkness we achieved in that cabin by switching out the lights; we took advantage of this to stage free-for-all blind pillow fights. Amazingly, none of the furniture was broken, and no tears were shed: I suspect the big lads were not swinging with their full strength, and, in the darkness, being small and agile was an advantage; I remember getting in some good hits and coming through almost unscathed!

We had spent Bastille Day in Paris. I eagerly awaited the fireworks, but just as darkness fell, a tremendous thunderstorm deluged the city. I think many of the planned fireworks failed to ignite, but we had a spectacular display of lightning. Zebulon and I watched from the hotel balcony. My two older brothers, who had been enjoying the privilege of roaming the streets, returned to the hotel looking like drowned rats at evening's end.

How about that wonderful open promenade at the stern! :D

At approximately 15 months out, I'm not "giddy" but in a state of sustained cheerful anticipation. It helps that we have a lively Roll Call thread already for this February 2013 NOLA Mardi Gras plus Valentine's Day cruise, and we're making new shipboard friends in advance! :D

Salut, les camarades!

Lady Rackstraw has forwarded a consignment of materials relating to one of the greatest liners of the 1960's, the mighty France.

First, a brochure page:

Here are the Rackstraw boys at the terminal in Le Havre, 16 July 1965, having just arrived by the Boat Train from Paris, preparing to embark. Left to right: Robin Hood Rackstraw, 15; Richard Lionheart Rackstraw, 16; Zebulon Rackstraw, 6; Ralph Rackstraw, 10 (11th birthday tomorrow!). Flight bags courtesy of Danzas, our travel agents for many years.

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Comrades, and All Ships at Sea:

Having some spare time this evening, I enjoyed another 20-some pages and completed my reading of the Saga Rose Greenland Voyager August 2007 archives!

Surely this must entitle one to a Ph.D. in Ocean-Travel Sociology, with emphasis on Promenade-Deck cabin peeking, Baked-Alaska Parades (with and without sparklers and twirling napkins), rijstafel dishes, the comparative meteorology of Vancouver and Texas, Turkish ceramics, polar bears, and highlights of 20th-century marine architecture...

And to think, so many wonderful pages remain to be written! :D

I enjoyed reading that first chapter. My, my, how far we have come since those voyages in 1884. I didn't understand the literary reference to "pard" and "scullions" but the details of life in steerage in those days were riveting.

 

Every time I see the title "My First 100 Years," I smile.

 

Ruby

One can tell by his writing that Mr. Meriwether was intelligent, witty, and joyful at every age. As it happens, "bearded like the pard" is a phrase from Shakespeare's As You Like It, the famous passage which begins, "All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players" and goes on to describe the Seven Ages of Man, the fourth of which is

Then a soldier,

Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard*,

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,

Seeking the bubble reputation

Even in the cannon's mouth.

"Pard" is an archaic term for "leopard", a cat that Shakespeare imagined to have a beard.

A "scullion" is a male who works in the scullery, or kitchen:

Scullion, male counterpart to Scullery maid, servant who performed menial kitchen jobs (washing, cleaning, etc.) in large households during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance

22-year-old Lee, like many a fresh-faced new college graduate, salts his prose with proofs of his erudition. He doesn't fling Shakespearean English around in his later books, but he shows a deep understanding of the historic and literary associations of the places to which he travels. :)

I have completed three books spanning the career of Minor "Lee" Meriwether (1862-1966), my mother's shipboard friend aboard the Constitution, being A Tramp Trip: How to See Europe on Fifty Cents a Day (1886), Seeing Europe by Automobile: A Five-Thousand-Mile Motor Trip Through France, Switzerland, Germany, and Italy; With an Excursion into Andorra, Corfu, Dalmatia, and Montenegro (1911), and My First 100 Years, 1862-1962.

Mr. Meriwether does not sytematically list every ship on which he ever sailed, but the collection of ships mentioned is still impressive:

1884: SS Independente, NYC-Naples; SS City of Chester, Liverpool-NYC.

1887: SS Lurline, a 27-passenger steamer, San Francisco-Honolulu.

1909: SS Chicago, NYC-Le Havre; SS Thetis, Corfu-Montenegro; SS Venezia, Naples-NYC.

1918: SS Lafayette, Bordeaux-NYC.

1924: SS Aquitania, NYC-Liverpool.

1960: SS Lurline, San Francisco-Honolulu.

October 1961: T/N Leonardo da Vinci, Genoa-NYC.

RMS Queen Mary, two transatlantic crossings (dates not mentioned).

May 1963: SS France, NYC-Le Havre.

August 1965: SS Constitution.

I think you will enjoy his account of life in steerage aboard the coal-burning Italian freighter SS Independente in 1884, from the opening chapter of Tramp Trip:

Entering the office of the Florio-Rubatino Steamship Line in New York one Saturday morning, I inquired the rate of passage to Naples.

"One hundred and thirty dollars," replied the polite young man behind the desk.

"Have you not a cheaper rate?'

"Second cabin, ninety dollars."

"But your cheapest rate?"

The young man looked at me.

"You do not wish steerage, do you?"

"Certainly."

"Phew!" and the polite young man whistled. "You are aware the steerage is no paradise?"

"At any rate, I wish to learn for myself."

"Very well. The cost is twenty-five dollars."

A few moments later I received my ticket --- a large piece of yellow paper, with the picture of the ship and a lot of Italian on it --- and hurried to my hotel to complete preparations for the departure of the steamer, to take place that same day at noon.

A half-hour sufficed to divest myself of the modish raiment which, taken in connection with a steerage passage, had so surprised the ticket-clerk, and in its place a slouch hat, a coarse flannel shirt, and a heavy sack-coat, warm and compact around the body, was substituted. A knapsack strapped over the back held all the baggage needed; and thus equipped, with scarcely more impedimenta than a lady has in shopping, I sauntered down to the Wall Street ferry, crossed over to Brooklyn, and walked up the gangway of the Independente just as the last bells were ringing and the last good-byes being said.

What a scene was that on the wharf the last half-hour before sailing! A crowd of men, women, and children, some staggering under huge bundles of clothing and bedding that they were bringing on board; others collecting skillets and pans and bundles tied in red handkerchiefs --- all hurrying and scurrying around like a swarm of disturbed bees.

Some of the passengers were bearded like the pard, but this did not prevent their fellow-laborers, who had come to see them off, from giving them showers of kisses. One of the ship's scullions --- a particularly grimy and greasy-looking fellow --- stood on the wharf until the last moment, talking with a friend equally grimy and greasy. As the last bell rang, the scullion and his piratical-looking friend affectionately embraced, took a mouthful of farewell kisses, and the last I saw of them they were blowing kisses at each other as the steamer slowly glided from her moorings and started on her long journey across the sea.

The ticket-agent told the truth. The steerage of an Italian steamer is not a paradise. The bunks are in the hold in the forepart of the ship, in rows like shelves, one about three feet above the other. Lanterns hung from the ceiling give just enough light to make visible the rude beds and their dirty, picturesque occupants. Among the crowd of returning emigrants I noted two young girls. Both were handsome --- dark olive complexions, sparkling black eyes. Slumbering peacefully, their arms thrown around under the head, supple figures in pretty postures, they seemed out of place in that semi-dark room, with the stalwart forms of men and women of every description around them. They did not seem to mind it, but slept as calmly as if in a grotto of roses. Habit is well nigh all-powerful. Accustomed to a private chamber, the first night or two in that strange place, those curious characters around me, my eyes closed in sleep less than an hour. The third night, an hour's pacing to and fro on deck before retiring overcame such squeamishness, and I slept soundly.

A life on the ocean wave is, all things considered, rather monotonous. The first day out the sea-sick passenger groans and wails, and fears he will die. The next day, he fears he won't die. After this he is all right, gets his sea legs on, and develops an enormous appetite. At eight in the morning a big bell strikes, and a black-bearded Italian shouts, "Colazione!" which means breakfast of black coffee and bread. At one o'clock there are two bells, the black-bearded Italian cries "Pranzo!" and the emigrant is served with macaroni or potato stew, bread, and red wine. At night the Italian cries "Cena!" instead of "Pranzo!", and there is more bread and black coffee. This regimen will certainly not produce gout or kindred ailments; it is, however, as good as can be expected, considering that the three weeks' board and lodging, together with five thousand miles' transportation, costs only twenty-five dollars.