Field Testing The “Squat Menace”
On permanent display in the National Firearms Museum is a Nock volley gun donated to NRA by the late Robert Petersen. As a museum staffer, I was fortunate enough to have this example on-hand during my research. A Nock first model, it bears the Queen Anne-period frizzen spring not found on the subsequent second model (of which only three are known today). The barrel grouping measures 20 inches in length, bringing the overall length to 37 inches. Unloaded, the Nock weighs approximately 13 pounds, most of which comes from the steel barrel cluster. The stock is lacquered walnut with brass furniture and buttplate. Each smoothbore measures 0.46 inches, and the barrels are brazed together in a six-round-one formation. The ignition is communicated from the pan, to the outer touch hole into the central chamber where it then distributed to the six outer chambers.

The lockplate bears an Ordnance proofmark and next to the “Tower” stamp with crown, cipher and broad arrow. Stamped in the stock is the “O B” cartouche indicating approval from the Ordnance Board inspection.

The gun is the very piece carried on screen by Richard Widmark in the “Alamo.” Along with the 18th-century British proofmarks and cartouches is a stamped serial number “S595” from the Stembridge prop house, where it was kept in accession before being sold at auction to the winning bidder, Robert Petersen. Those with a keen eye can still see abrasions on the steel from the brass barrel band that was fitted to the muzzle by the movie’s prop crew.

As is the burden of investigative journalism, it was decided that I could not publish any written material on the Nock volley gun having never fired one myself. This notion was met with reluctance, for I by this point was well aware of the Nock’s tendency to dislodge shoulders and potentially fracture bone. Yet with credibility at stake, I accepted my fate. The first shot was loaded with only powder and wad so that I could anticipate the trigger pull and flash delay. The gun performed without malfunction and emitted a wide orange blossom of flame and sparks.

On the second attempt, I rammed all seven barrels (meticulously noting which had been loaded to prevent double charging) and primed the pan. Taking aim at a target some 15 feet away, my wavering hand pulled the trigger. In an instant I was able to fully comprehend the plight of those unfortunate crewmen armed with the Nock. The butt of the gun drove itself hard into my right shoulder as the barrel cluster smacked into my chin. Worst of all, only two of the seven round balls struck the target. At that moment I was just happy I made it through the ordeal relatively unscathed (save for a slight powder burn and a rapidly forming bruise.) Subsequent firing with half-charges was not nearly as unpleasant, provided one leaned in and held on tight.

The legacy of the Nock would have perhaps remained only a brief footnote in firearm history had it not been for the later inspiration of a few creative minds. The magic of cinema provided Jim Bowie and Patrick Harper with a formidable battle implement capable of slaying their foes in a storm of lead and flame. That is, of course, in stark contrast to the reality of a bruised and singed sailor more likely pitching the thing overboard rather than shouldering it in battle.