69 Books Like H. M. S. Bounty

Democratically elected captains overseeing multi-ethnic crews in floating meritocracies conducting rogue assaults against an autocratic, kleptocratic, slaveholding world is actually a quite appealing concept.

Yet, this both simplifies and overlooks the often savage and sadistic nature of the violence contained within the so-called Golden Age of Piracy (1650s to 1730s). Johnson deconstructs these complexities through a deep, dive into Henry Every, the 17th Century’s most notorious pirate and his vicious attack on an Indian treasure ship.

His crew was rewarded in rape, murder, mayhem, and financial riches beyond their wildest dreams. I love that the book strips away all our preconception of piracy, both positive and negative, forcing us to consider not just the darker forces of human nature – but also of the social and economic systems that prompted them and which continue to thrive today. 

The near-savant brilliance of Charles Wilkes, captain of the U.S. Exploring Expedition (1838-1842), is prominently tee’d up here by Philbrick (one of our greatest writers of lesser-known nautical history), as is his jealous, petty, venal and stubborn mindset which ultimately was his undoing.

Also the primary reason you’ve never really heard of this remarkable scientific voyage that set out to map the entire Pacific Ocean and even named the newly discovered Antarctic continent. I was surprised to learn the Exploring Expedition was much more ambitious than the overland Lewis and Clark trek, scooped up infinitely more specimens of natural history and scientific data – but was nearly completely forgotten in our history books.

Philbrick untangles the perils and personalities to help us understand why. 

This is another early American expedition lost to modern memory. In 1810, one of America’s richest men, John Jacob Astor, sent out two expeditions to exploit the riches of the western coast of North America. Unclaimed at the time.

One was to progress overland the other by sea. Both ended in personal and economic disaster. Yet, showcasing moments of heroism and cowardice, selflessness, and greed – but ultimately awakening America to this untapped potential of this rich, rugged, and unforgiving territory.

Stark writes like a novelist weaving rich, character studies Into the narrative that helped invest me in the people and their mostly, unfortunate fates. 

It is a riveting story of heroism triumphing over adversity as a South Carolina slave appropriates a Confederate transport ship and sails it out of Charleston Harbor, ferrying his fellow enslaved crewmen and their families to freedom. And that’s just the opening act, as he goes on to serve as a pilot in the Union Navy and later as a newspaper publisher and U.S. Congressman.

I came away from this book very impressed with Smalls and the level of research that went into telling his story. The Civil War was full of unsung heroes like this, and it’s great to see some of them finally getting their due.

This was the first nonfiction book I read that fired up my interest and started my research for my own historical novel. Stark gives a picture of the females to be found aboard ships in the British Royal Navy, most of whom were not posing as men but were wives of warrant officers. One chapter is devoted to women in disguise in naval crews. The last chapter is devoted to the crossdresser Mary Lacy, who passed as William Chandler, and worked as a shipwright. With illustrations and endnotes, Female Tars sheds light on the women who are seldom mentioned in official naval records, but were there, a part of history. 

Patrick O’Brian is the master of nautical fiction. I enjoyed every one of his Aubrey—Maturin series but this one shines out.

I believe that, in maritime fiction, the sea should be its own character, and this book brings to life every face of it. His intricate prose captures the daily life onboard Napoleonic-era ships in painstaking detail and throws the reader into a totally immersive world.

But mostly, I love how this book embodies the friendship between Jack and Stephen. Although they are such different characters, they have such a beautiful connection and when they are separated from their ship, they rely on each other to survive.

I love exploring the various relationships of men and women, in platonic, familial, and romantic senses. 

Professor Lambert is the doyen of present-day naval historians.

In this book he tells the story of an incomparably great strategist and historian, Julian Corbett, whose pre-war views on naval strategy were well constructed and sought by men such as Admiral Jacky Fisher, the founder of the modern navy. Unfortunately, Corbett’s ideas were catastrophically ignored in 1914 but shaped Britain’s success in the Second World War and beyond.

Stumpf was an ordinary seaman in the German Imperial Navy.

He tells the story of the war at sea from a personal perspective. His autobiography shows how the gap between officers and men, poor food, a sense of inferiority to the Royal Navy and limited scope for naval action all contributed to the decline of the morale of the Imperial Fleet, leading to mutiny in 1918. It is necessary reading if you want to begin to understand the war at sea from a non-British perspective.

This book holds a special place in my bookshelves. Reprinted many times it is a classic reference to the period. Lavery’s description of life at sea is unparalleled, depicting a world far removed from the hardships and cruelty that is often attributed to conditions on the lower deck.

A lot of the fiction and non-fiction around the Age of Sail and the Georgian navy focuses on the officers and the larger battles, so this book, discussing the lives of ordinary sailors, is very refreshing.

I read it for research for my own writing and really enjoyed the excerpts from the letters and other documents of the diverse groups of men (and women) who sailed on the ships of the line.

There is an intimacy there of seeing how these various stories and lives played out against the backdrop of wider events and political issues. It is something I always bear in mind while writing my own (fictional) narratives.