"I do care, however, that some of the 'loose cannons' around here may have given us ALL a bad name by sending her some poorly-considered inflammatory attacks" - RonDogI fear that you are correct, bloodmeridian. ;("If she'd have received 1 nasty email from a 'loose cannon' and 99 others from sane, reflective, intelligent Freepers, she would have focused on the one as representative of what goes on here. That's just the way it is, and we all know it. Freep on, folks!" - bloodmeridian
This controversy DOES, however, give me the opportunity to share a WONDERFUL explantion that I found recently about the ORIGIN of the term, "loose cannon," from the Historical Maritime Society:
Nelson and His Navy - Loose Cannons
The following excerpt is taken from a translation of Victor Hugo's "Ninety-Three" and gives a graphic, if rather flowery description of what happens when a cannon breaks loose on a man-of-war.
"... Boisberthelot did not have time to reply. La Vieuville's words were suddenly cut short by a desperate cry, and at the same time the two men heard a noise unlike any noise that is normally heard. The cry and the noise came from inside the ship. The captain and the lieutenant rushed toward the between-decks, but were unable to go down.All the gunners were frantically coming up. A frightful thing had just happened. One of the carronades of the battery, a twenty-four-pounder, had broken loose. This is perhaps the most frightful of all accidents at sea. Nothing more terrible can happen to a warship on the open sea and under full sail. A cannon that breaks its moorings suddenly becomes a kind of supernatural beast. It is a machine which transforms itself into a monster.
That mass speeds on its wheels, tilts when the ship rolls, plunges when it pitches, goes, comes, stops, seems to meditate, resumes its swift movement, goes from one end of the ship to the other with the speed of an arrow, spins around, slips to one side, dashes away, rears up, spins around, slips to one side, dashes away, rears up, collides smashes, kills, exterminates. It is a battering-ram which attacks a wall according to its own whim. Add this: the battering-ram is made of steel, the wall of wood. It is matter's entry into freedom. It is as though that eternal slave were avenging itself.
It seems that the spitefulness in what we call inert objects suddenly burst out of them, that they have lost patience and taking a strange, obscure revenge. Nothing is more inexorable than the anger of the inanimate. That frenzied mass has the leaps of a panther, the weight of an elephant, the agility of a mouse, the stubbornness of an axe, the unexpectedness of a swelling sea, the swift blows of lightning, the deafness of the tomb. It weighs ten thousand pounds and bounces like a child's ball. It moves in whirls abruptly cut by right angles.
And what is to be done? How can it be overcome? A storm ceases, a cyclone passes, a wind dies down, a broken mast can be replaced, a leak can be stopped, a fire can be extinguished; but what is one to do with that enormous bronze brute? How is one to deal with it? You can reason with a mastiff, astonish a bull, fascinate a boa, frighten a tiger, move a lion to pity; with that monster, a cannon on the loose, there is no resource. You cannot kill it, for it is dead; and, at the same time, it is alive. It lives with a sinister life that comes to it from the infinite.
The deck beneath it swings to and fro. It is moved by the ship, which is moved by the sea, which is moved by the wind. That destroyer is a plaything. The ship, the waves, the wind, all these things control it; hence its horrible life. What can one do to that mechanism? How can one fetter that monstrous shipwrecking machine? How can one foresee its comings and goings, its returns, stops and impacts? Any one of those blows may smash a hole in the planking. How is one to guess that frightful, wandering course?
One is dealing with a projectile that changes its mind, seems to have ideas and constantly alters its direction. How can one stop something that must be avoided? The horrible cannon flings itself about, advances, retreats, strikes left and right, flees, passes, deceives one's expectations, breaks down obstacles and crushes men like flies. The terror of the situation lies in the mobility of the deck. How can one combat an inclined plane which has its caprices? The ship has, so to speak, lightning imprisoned in its belly, trying to escape; it is like thunder rolling above an earthquake ..."
from
www.AboutNelson.co.uk
LOL! That colorful description reminds me of a LOT of posters around here. ;o)