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Flintlock Snobbery

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When I first started shooting muzzleloaders, I was shooting a Lyman .54 percussion rifle and was picking a spent cap out of the hammer before putting the new one on. A shooter beside me stepped up and let fly with a flintlock, spraying me with hot gas and bits of flint in the ear and neck and cheek. We're only about 5 feet apart at our shoots and his rifle had a particularly nasty side blast. My fault for dallying on the firing line he said. Oh really? Flintlock snobbery at its finest!
Probably had one of those dang white lightning vent liners that vectors chamber blast out the side like a blow torch. I've been burned by them more than once from some one shooting on my left side. Any vent will side blast but WL liners magnify the effect from what I can determine. They do indeed work but I don't feel are necessary if the lock and vent are tuned up correctly. Flint guns, after all have worked very reliably for 250 years before WL liners ever saw the light of day and I don't believe that many of them had internal coning either. Vent liners were usually a repair for a burned out barrel wall vent although we now days regularly install them in new guns.
I have an ole Miruku .45 cal flint pistol I picked up for 20.00$, Lapped the barrel , rebuilt the trigger , repaired the stock crack and made a new front sight blade for that shoots very reliably. It has no liner and the vent is angled forward into the barrel at the front of the breech plug. It fires fast and reliably as long as the flint is sharp. It has one of the longest flash channels I've ever seen at yet is quite fast and reliable to fire.
I think WL liners let us get away with less than the best tuning that would be required to make a traditional vent reliable.
 
As to snobbery, I have a friend that killed a wild turkey with his bare hands and that means you are all a bunch of incompetent, tool-using modernists.

GUILTY!

Now excuse me I have to marinate some venison steaks from a deer that I used a rock to kill.

(Hey that's not a lie....a rock sets the events in motion on my flintlock, so....I killed it by using a rock.) 🤣

LD
 
GUILTY!

Now excuse me I have to marinate some venison steaks from a deer that I used a rock to kill.

(Hey that's not a lie....a rock sets the events in motion on my flintlock, so....I killed it by using a rock.) 🤣

LD

This is how they use to do it...

 
I was fortunate to be present during a flintlock demonstration. It was at a trapper era themed restaurant. The owner of the flintlock was gracious enough to ask me if I wanted to try it. Once I fired it, I was hooked.
I visited a local rendezvous and found 2 percussion "Hawken" style rifles for sale for a very reasonable price. That was my start. Still, I held that image of shooting the flintlock in my mind. A short time later, I found a flintlock for sale at a gun shop and that rifle followed me home.
At this point, I like both percussion and flintlock, but flintlock remains my true love.
Ron
 
Some of you old farts must use a Straight.....
View attachment 30177
Hmmmm... Not all of us old farts could even figure out what that tool is actually used for.....
20200505_132746.jpg
 
When it was sharp i shaved my neck under the beard with one. Now i use the electric beard trimmer and leave some stubble, no one can see it anyway
 
Many thanks to everyone for their advice! It was really useful and I took it to heart in making my decision. After much thought I decided I wanted a flintlock. When I asked my dad to make me this he was thrilled I wanted one. After this quarantine is over tho I'm going to start on a cap lock. The sooner I can start, the sooner I can improve, and the more fun I'll have! Thanks again!
 
Since reading your post in late April, I've been reading the Hornblower sagas, Mushka. Just came across the section you noted about the Commodore receiving the new technology percussion pistols. From the fadedpages.com web site copy of these stories, here are the paragraphs where Hornblower considers the differences between the well-known flintlocks, and as you said, the "new fangled stuff for the times." Most interesting approach through this fictional naval character in how he views the firing mechanism differences. ~wiksmo

“I’LL put the pistols in this locker, sir,” said Brown, completing the
unpacking.
“Pistols?” said Hornblower.
Brown brought the case over to him; he had only mentioned them
because he knew that Hornblower was not aware of the pistols’ existence. It
was a beautiful mahogany case, velvet-lined; the first thing to catch the eye
inside was a white card. It bore some words in Barbara’s handwriting: “To
my dear husband. May he never need to use them, but if he must then may
they serve him well, and at least may they remind him of his loving wife,
who will pray every day for his safety, for his happiness, and for his
success.” Hornblower read the words twice before he put the card down to
examine the pistols. They were beautiful weapons, of bright steel inlaid with
silver, double-barrelled, the butts of ebony, giving them a perfect balance in
the hand. There were two copper tubes in the case to open next; they merely
contained pistol bullets, each one cast flawlessly, a perfect sphere. The fact
that the makers had gone to the trouble of casting special bullets and
including them in the case recalled Hornblower’s attention to the pistols.
Inside the barrels were bright spiral lands; they were rifled pistols, then. The
next copper box in the case contained a number of discs of thin leather
impregnated with oil; these would be for wrapping up the bullet before
inserting it into the barrel, so as to ensure a perfect fit. The brass rod and the
little brass mallet would be for hammering the bullets home. The little brass
cup must be a measure of the powder charge. It was small, but that was the
way to ensure accuracy—a small powder charge, a heavy ball, and a true
barrel. With these pistols he could rely on himself to hit a small bull’s-eye at
fifty yards, as long as he held true.
But there was one more copper box to open. It was full of little square
bits of copper sheet, very thin indeed. He was puzzled at the sight of them;
each bit of copper had a bulge in the centre, where the metal was especially
thin, making the black contents just visible through it. It dawned slowly
upon Hornblower that these must be the percussion caps he had heard
vaguely about recently. To prove it he laid one on his desk and tapped it
sharply with the brass mallet. There was a sharp crack, a puff of smoke from
under the mallet, and when he lifted up the latter he could see that the cap
was rent open, and the desk was marked with the stain of the explosion.
He looked at the pistols again. He must have been blind, not to have
noticed the absence of flint and priming pan. The hammer rested on what
appeared at first sight to be a simple block of metal, but this pivoted at a
touch, revealing a shallow cavity below it clearly intended to receive a cap.
At the base of the cavity was a small hole which must communicate with the
breech end of the barrel. Put a charge in the pistol, put a cap in the cavity,
and fix it firm with the metal block. Now snap the hammer down upon the
block. The cap explodes; the flame passes through the hole into the charge,
and the pistol is fired. No haphazard arrangement of flint and priming; rain
or spray could never put these pistols out of action. Hornblower guessed
there would not be a misfire once in a hundred shots. It was a wonderful
present—it was very thoughtful indeed of Barbara to buy them for him.
Heaven only knew what they must have cost; some skilled workman must
have laboured for months over the rifling of those four barrels, and the
copper caps—five hundred of them, every one hand-made—must have cost
a pretty penny of themselves. But with those two pistols loaded he would
have four men’s lives in his hands; on a fine day with two flint-lock doublebarrelled pistols
he would expect one misfire, if not two, and if it were
raining or there was spray flying it would be remarkable if he could fire a
single shot. To Hornblower’s mind the rifling was not as important as the
percussion caps; in the usual shipboard scuffle when pistols were likely to
be used accuracy was unimportant, for one generally pressed the muzzle
against one’s adversary’s stomach before pulling the trigger.

Hornblower laid the pistols in their velvet nests.


I am presently reading "Commmodor Hornblower" and his wife presents him with a boxed set of double barreled, rifled, percussion pistols. New fangled stuff for the times. The cannons on his ship seem to be flintlocks. Interesting reading.
 
Since reading your post in late April, I've been reading the Hornblower sagas, Mushka. Just came across the section you noted about the Commodore receiving the new technology percussion pistols. From the fadedpages.com web site copy of these stories, here are the paragraphs where Hornblower considers the differences between the well-known flintlocks, and as you said, the "new fangled stuff for the times." Most interesting approach through this fictional naval character in how he views the firing mechanism differences. ~wiksmo

“I’LL put the pistols in this locker, sir,” said Brown, completing the
unpacking.
“Pistols?” said Hornblower.
Brown brought the case over to him; he had only mentioned them
because he knew that Hornblower was not aware of the pistols’ existence. It
was a beautiful mahogany case, velvet-lined; the first thing to catch the eye
inside was a white card. It bore some words in Barbara’s handwriting: “To
my dear husband. May he never need to use them, but if he must then may
they serve him well, and at least may they remind him of his loving wife,
who will pray every day for his safety, for his happiness, and for his
success.” Hornblower read the words twice before he put the card down to
examine the pistols. They were beautiful weapons, of bright steel inlaid with
silver, double-barrelled, the butts of ebony, giving them a perfect balance in
the hand. There were two copper tubes in the case to open next; they merely
contained pistol bullets, each one cast flawlessly, a perfect sphere. The fact
that the makers had gone to the trouble of casting special bullets and
including them in the case recalled Hornblower’s attention to the pistols.
Inside the barrels were bright spiral lands; they were rifled pistols, then. The
next copper box in the case contained a number of discs of thin leather
impregnated with oil; these would be for wrapping up the bullet before
inserting it into the barrel, so as to ensure a perfect fit. The brass rod and the
little brass mallet would be for hammering the bullets home. The little brass
cup must be a measure of the powder charge. It was small, but that was the
way to ensure accuracy—a small powder charge, a heavy ball, and a true
barrel. With these pistols he could rely on himself to hit a small bull’s-eye at
fifty yards, as long as he held true.
But there was one more copper box to open. It was full of little square
bits of copper sheet, very thin indeed. He was puzzled at the sight of them;
each bit of copper had a bulge in the centre, where the metal was especially
thin, making the black contents just visible through it. It dawned slowly
upon Hornblower that these must be the percussion caps he had heard
vaguely about recently. To prove it he laid one on his desk and tapped it
sharply with the brass mallet. There was a sharp crack, a puff of smoke from
under the mallet, and when he lifted up the latter he could see that the cap
was rent open, and the desk was marked with the stain of the explosion.
He looked at the pistols again. He must have been blind, not to have
noticed the absence of flint and priming pan. The hammer rested on what
appeared at first sight to be a simple block of metal, but this pivoted at a
touch, revealing a shallow cavity below it clearly intended to receive a cap.
At the base of the cavity was a small hole which must communicate with the
breech end of the barrel. Put a charge in the pistol, put a cap in the cavity,
and fix it firm with the metal block. Now snap the hammer down upon the
block. The cap explodes; the flame passes through the hole into the charge,
and the pistol is fired. No haphazard arrangement of flint and priming; rain
or spray could never put these pistols out of action. Hornblower guessed
there would not be a misfire once in a hundred shots. It was a wonderful
present—it was very thoughtful indeed of Barbara to buy them for him.
Heaven only knew what they must have cost; some skilled workman must
have laboured for months over the rifling of those four barrels, and the
copper caps—five hundred of them, every one hand-made—must have cost
a pretty penny of themselves. But with those two pistols loaded he would
have four men’s lives in his hands; on a fine day with two flint-lock doublebarrelled pistols
he would expect one misfire, if not two, and if it were
raining or there was spray flying it would be remarkable if he could fire a
single shot. To Hornblower’s mind the rifling was not as important as the
percussion caps; in the usual shipboard scuffle when pistols were likely to
be used accuracy was unimportant, for one generally pressed the muzzle
against one’s adversary’s stomach before pulling the trigger.

Hornblower laid the pistols in their velvet nests.

That bit of literary excellence was almost pornographic to a black powder enthusiast.

I won’t describe the feeling welling up at the mention of double-barrel flintlock pistols,

I hope Pedersoli gets their flintlock Howdah pistols over on this side of the Atlantic fast.

1589232499261.jpeg
 
Flintlocks and Straight Razor kinda go together

Plastic Bic throw always for everyone else

Some of you old farts must use a Straight.....
View attachment 30177
OMG! Look at the head on that thing! Absolutely gorgeous! I shaved for a long time with an ivory plastic handled el cheapo that did ok, in my older age I have gotten away from it, but still have it. It used to astound the unwary sojourner in our Civil war camp, (Confederate}. Funny thing, I was the only Reb using one, but I saw several men in Union camps shaving with a straight over the years. Who wouda thunk?
 
OMG! Look at the head on that thing! Absolutely gorgeous! I shaved for a long time with an ivory plastic handled el cheapo that did ok, in my older age I have gotten away from it, but still have it. It used to astound the unwary sojourner in our Civil war camp, (Confederate}. Funny thing, I was the only Reb using one, but I saw several men in Union camps shaving with a straight over the years. Who wouda thunk?
That Razor dates to the 1860’s too..!
 
Has anyone ever wanted to do something that would send another person into an apoplexy? I plead guilty to that every now and then.

Now imagine the reaction from some flintlock pistol snobs at your local muzzle-loading club or at the Friendship range if you held your custom made flintlock target pistol gangsta-style. "Pish-posh," some of your are probably saying; no 18th century pistolero would dare hold his flintlock pistol gangsta-style!

Maybe he would or maybe he wouldn't. The following video is interesting and gives me an idea to watch a flintlock snob's reaction if I were to shoot mine gangsta-style. I also wonder if I could hit anything that way.

 
Well, OK; it sure did bring back some outstanding muzzleloading memories, And I recall being captured by Union law enforcement, and the cuffs were vintage, and real!

LMAO !!!..... Dont you evah stray off topic again...signed Michigan Gov....Gretchen Whitmer.
 
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Since reading your post in late April, I've been reading the Hornblower sagas, Mushka. Just came across the section you noted about the Commodore receiving the new technology percussion pistols. From the fadedpages.com web site copy of these stories, here are the paragraphs where Hornblower considers the differences between the well-known flintlocks, and as you said, the "new fangled stuff for the times." Most interesting approach through this fictional naval character in how he views the firing mechanism differences. ~wiksmo

“I’LL put the pistols in this locker, sir,” said Brown, completing the
unpacking.
“Pistols?” said Hornblower.
Brown brought the case over to him; he had only mentioned them
because he knew that Hornblower was not aware of the pistols’ existence. It
was a beautiful mahogany case, velvet-lined; the first thing to catch the eye
inside was a white card. It bore some words in Barbara’s handwriting: “To
my dear husband. May he never need to use them, but if he must then may
they serve him well, and at least may they remind him of his loving wife,
who will pray every day for his safety, for his happiness, and for his
success.” Hornblower read the words twice before he put the card down to
examine the pistols. They were beautiful weapons, of bright steel inlaid with
silver, double-barrelled, the butts of ebony, giving them a perfect balance in
the hand. There were two copper tubes in the case to open next; they merely
contained pistol bullets, each one cast flawlessly, a perfect sphere. The fact
that the makers had gone to the trouble of casting special bullets and
including them in the case recalled Hornblower’s attention to the pistols.
Inside the barrels were bright spiral lands; they were rifled pistols, then. The
next copper box in the case contained a number of discs of thin leather
impregnated with oil; these would be for wrapping up the bullet before
inserting it into the barrel, so as to ensure a perfect fit. The brass rod and the
little brass mallet would be for hammering the bullets home. The little brass
cup must be a measure of the powder charge. It was small, but that was the
way to ensure accuracy—a small powder charge, a heavy ball, and a true
barrel. With these pistols he could rely on himself to hit a small bull’s-eye at
fifty yards, as long as he held true.
But there was one more copper box to open. It was full of little square
bits of copper sheet, very thin indeed. He was puzzled at the sight of them;
each bit of copper had a bulge in the centre, where the metal was especially
thin, making the black contents just visible through it. It dawned slowly
upon Hornblower that these must be the percussion caps he had heard
vaguely about recently. To prove it he laid one on his desk and tapped it
sharply with the brass mallet. There was a sharp crack, a puff of smoke from
under the mallet, and when he lifted up the latter he could see that the cap
was rent open, and the desk was marked with the stain of the explosion.
He looked at the pistols again. He must have been blind, not to have
noticed the absence of flint and priming pan. The hammer rested on what
appeared at first sight to be a simple block of metal, but this pivoted at a
touch, revealing a shallow cavity below it clearly intended to receive a cap.
At the base of the cavity was a small hole which must communicate with the
breech end of the barrel. Put a charge in the pistol, put a cap in the cavity,
and fix it firm with the metal block. Now snap the hammer down upon the
block. The cap explodes; the flame passes through the hole into the charge,
and the pistol is fired. No haphazard arrangement of flint and priming; rain
or spray could never put these pistols out of action. Hornblower guessed
there would not be a misfire once in a hundred shots. It was a wonderful
present—it was very thoughtful indeed of Barbara to buy them for him.
Heaven only knew what they must have cost; some skilled workman must
have laboured for months over the rifling of those four barrels, and the
copper caps—five hundred of them, every one hand-made—must have cost
a pretty penny of themselves. But with those two pistols loaded he would
have four men’s lives in his hands; on a fine day with two flint-lock doublebarrelled pistols
he would expect one misfire, if not two, and if it were
raining or there was spray flying it would be remarkable if he could fire a
single shot. To Hornblower’s mind the rifling was not as important as the
percussion caps; in the usual shipboard scuffle when pistols were likely to
be used accuracy was unimportant, for one generally pressed the muzzle
against one’s adversary’s stomach before pulling the trigger.

Hornblower laid the pistols in their velvet nests.
I grew up with the Hornblower series and have re-read them many times. Captivating for a young man, and always a great read.

Another outstanding series is written by Patrick O’Brian and follows the exploits of Jack Aubrey. A most engaging series, comparable to Hornblower in my estimation.

some great reading! Enjoy!
 
Bilitho by Alexander Kent/ Douglas Reedman is good. Very Hornbloweresc.
Alen Lewrie ain’t the heroic cast of Hornblower and Bilitho, in fact he is a bit of a Scoundrel (with a touch of conscience) but is a fun read.
I got to say for the good read Hornblower was and Foresters desire to tell an historical story I don’t think many cased double barreled Flintlock pistols would have one or two misfires . I had a cheap ‘tower pistol’ from Japan that cost about thirty five dollars in the 1980s. 66 cal mostly smooth barrel. I had to replace a week frizzen spring. And it would throw spark forty times from a small flint that was far too dull to use in a well made siler.
 
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