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Jesse's Hunting > Gun Room Articles > Gun Room Archives > A little lunacy for the gun maddened...
A little lunacy for the gun maddened...
Andy Moe - JHO ProStaff
- InSane Diego, CA
March 29, 2005
There are times when I seriously doubt the sanity of some shooters. These are the folks who embark on shooting projects which have no practical outcome beyond satisfying the need to make the journey down that road to the sister cities of Expense and Frustration.
Perhaps you’re like me –bought some old clunker, bought custom molds, formed brass, neglected our families; all to shoot groups like those from a 12 gauge using #8 shot? I’ve done it numerous times in the past. Most recently it was a certain 9mm Largo, Spanish Destroyer Carbine that I knew I could make to shoot with 38 Super ammo. It was a great idea, but…well… Let’s just say that the project didn’t turn out the way I’d planned. The gun didn’t shoot. I spent a little too much money and ended up in the matrimonial doghouse.
Lesson learned, right? Sure. But, wouldn’t you know it? I’ve been at it again.
My latest fit of madness was brought on by a surfing expedition on my trusty PC. I happened to land on a collector’s site with page after page of military rifles. I should have pulled the plug right there, but a big red banner pointing towards British rifles drew me in and dropped me on a Snider/Enfield MkIII, two band musket. This rifle is circa 1871 and is chambered for the very popular (at least in 1871) 577 Snider Enfield cartridge. 
Another step on the road to madness?
The true "gun nut" doesn't let a little thing like failure stop him. Refusing to give up, the author embarked on another fit of gunsmithing lunacy with a .577 Snider. |
Now, a few years back I bought an old Lyman mould #585-213 at a gun show for seven dollars, only to find out later that this mold was made for the 577 Snider, not the .58 caliber muzzleloader I’d intended it for. The minute I saw the photo of that musket I knew that if I didn’t spend all of my previous week’s paycheck on that rifle, the seven dollars I spent three years ago would be wasted and a perfectly good mold would languish unused. This made my purchase of the Snider entirely justifiable.
Arrangements were made as fast as my chubby fingers could clack out my credit card number and the rifle was on its way. My mind was already formulating a plan. The next day would be spent locating brass and dies. A small matter: I already had the mold and that was the hard part. I slept well that night.
Reality kicked in the next evening. I finally found a website that carried obsolete dies and brass only to discover that the cost of a set of dies and 40 pieces of brass would equal what I just spent on the rifle. It would have been after Christmas before I could see my way clear to spend that much money! I continued my search across the great Web, and eventually found dies and brass offered by an industrious machinist back east. I got a three-die set and 40 pieces of brass for only half the cost of the rifle. I’d saved 50%!
I patted myself on the back for my thriftiness as I made another small loan from the kid’s college fund and stuck the check in the mail. I was vaguely aware of that old familiar feeling; that mixture of hope, anxiety, satisfaction, and impending despair that old gun cranks get when a glimmer of an idea suddenly becomes a project that has reached the point of no return. I popped a couple of Rolaids. That uneasiness would subside. With luck, everything would show up at once allowing me to move on to the more tangible feeling of frustration.
Time to get moving! Ignoring the 120-degree heat that visits this corner of Southern California in August, I fired up my old SAECO lead pot and proceeded to cast some chunky, hollow-based minie-balls from that aforementioned mold. My alloy was 50/50 wheel weights and lead as that was what happened to be in the pot that day. There was no sense in getting too “scientific” about the alloy, was there? I managed to cast 40 good bullets before the heat took its toll and I began to feel really faint. The next day the temperature dropped 25 degrees and a week later the rifle and loading gear arrived, side-by-side.
The rifle turned out to be all that I’d expected. The bore was very good, the exterior was beautiful, and the mechanicals were tight. I slugged the bore at –amazingly enough- .585 inches! I knew that mould would come in handy some day! The one problem I had with my new jewel was that the rear sight elevator was missing. A call to the seller and he agreed to send me a complete MkIII rear sight assembly the following Monday. Oh Boy! More time to prep cases and plan the perfect load. I couldn’t understand why this latest delay wasn’t bothering me. Instead I felt a twinge of relief. In retrospect, I’m sure it had something to do with the suppressed memory of the Spanish Destroyer Carbine trying to surface.
I prepped the dies and brass the next evening. The cases had machining oil and tiny brass chips from the turning process. A sink full of soapy water and a 12-gauge bore mop took care of both. Considering the cost of the brass, I wondered if it wouldn’t have been cheaper to buy a metal lathe and turn the cases myself. The cost of the dies brought up the same question. (I’m mulling over that one still…) Anyhow, I disassembled the dies and washed them out as well. After drying they were lightly oiled and deemed ready for action.
Instructions are for beginners
These aren't the concern of the over-the-top gun crank. Besides, once you know the basics... |
Lubing the bullets turned out to be a messy job. I melted my favorite lube in a double boiler after my dear wife went to bed and dipped the bullets, base first, into the hot liquid. (I burned my fingers tips plenty until I thought to use a pair of pliers.) The bullets came from the pot covered with a thick layer of yellow lube; too thick, actually. I needed to devise a way to remove the excess lube so the bullets could be seated into the cartridge cases. At $4 each I really didn’t want to modify one of the cases to use as a ‘cookie-cutter’ type tool so I put myself to finding some way of modifying an existing piece of reloading equipment for the job. In the end I settled for the kitchen turkey baster. I cut and filed the tapered nozzle until it was a slip fit over the bullet, shaving off unwanted lube. It worked great! I threw away the bulb part and hid the rest in my shooting gear. Thanksgiving was months off and I knew it wouldn’t be missed for a while.
All was ready, or so I thought. When I tried to seat the primers in the cases I found that they fell far short of seating flush with the rear end of the cases... obviously a machining glitch. I called the fellow who made the brass and he offered to inspect each casing if I shipped them back. I decided to order a Lyman primer pocket “Uniformer” tool and handle it myself. Another delay and a brief, uneasy visit with the Frustration I knew might be waiting to move in on a more permanent basis sometime down the line.
When the tool arrived I reamed the primer pockets and began the reloading process with renewed spirits. This was gonna work! I decided to start with a load of Pyrodex “CTG” as I had plenty of it left over from a less-than-successful Dutch Beaumont project several years earlier. I found that the .577 Snider case would take a charge of CTG volumetrically equal to 76 grains of Fg black powder.
I’d had some experience shooting .58 caliber muskets and knew that too heavy a charge can cause erratic accuracy due to the pressures deforming the thin skirt of the hollow-based bullets. The 76 grain charge seemed reasonable so I went with it. The rounds were loaded and gleaming purposefully in their loading block. The next morning would tell the tale. I was very anxious to see this baby shoot.
A little too anxious, I guess. I arrived at the range with my Snider and my ammo but no rest, targets, or stapler. There were some steel gongs out at the 200 yard mark, though. “Good enough”, I thought.
My confidence was up. I was sure I’d get a good indication of this rifle’s accuracy just by shooting off hand, and I certainly did. As near as I could tell without a tape measure, my first ten shots when into roughly sixteen feet, the next ten went into about ten feet, and despite the improving trend of the second group, I couldn’t help but feel a little despondent on the ride home. I’d kind of hoped for better.
That night, after a long, smelly cleaning session with both the Snider and the brass cases, I sat to ponder how I might improver the accuracy of this fine rifle. I never did go recover a bullet to see if it survived the flight to the sand berm behind the gong. I should’ve done that. I decide that, to be on the safe side, I’d reduce the powder charge and put some lube into the hollow bases of the bullets. Switching two variables at once is standard practice for the more manic of the gun cranks. After another midnight session with the double boiler, I loaded my 20 pieces of brass –this time with the charge reduced to 70 grains of powder and the bases of the bullets troweled full of lubricant. The next day I returned to the range with all my gear in tow, including a Stanley 25 foot tape measure.
At the range I was struck by the notion that by shooting off the bench at paper targets I would lose my yardstick for comparison to the previous day’s shooting and decided to again shoot these twenty rounds off-hand. Oddly, it didn’t turn out to be as crazy a notion as you might think. I managed to hit the 30-inch gong with seven of twenty shots off-hand and all but one of the misses landed within an acceptable distance from the plate. The one that didn’t hit thirteen feet to the left and six feet high, flier, or ricochet, I’ll never be sure. The recovered bullets showed good rifling engraving and no base deformation. I was pleased.
I still have work to do with the Snider and the .577 cartridge but I’m encouraged. The ghost of the Destroyer Carbine has been quieted somewhat with this turn-about in events. Some lunatic projects do end up with a modicum of success –enough to justify the expense in cash, turkey basters, and time away from the family. Still, I think I should go out in the back yard and dig up what’s left of that Destroyer Carbine so that I can make a lamp out of it for my office: Just a reminder of the mad fits that seize the otherwise rational shooter from time to time.
If at first you don't succeed...
Try again. Assuming, of course, that you haven't blown yourself up. Our intrepid author tweaked his loads until his .577 was actually banging the gong at 200 meters. Not too shabby. |
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