The Colonial Clippers

Patrick Henderson’s Albion Shipping Company.

The chief rival of the Shaw, Savill before the advent of the New Zealand Shipping Company was Patrick Henderson, who owned the Albion Shipping Company. But in the early days he was also in the China and Rangoon trades. His first ships in the New Zealand emigrant trade were fine, comfortable wooden vessels without any special turn of speed, such as the Agnes Muir, Pladda, Lady Douglass, Jane Henderson, Vicksburgh and Helenslee. But he had some very fast wood and composite clippers, which during the sixties were mostly in the Shanghai trade, and later took their turn at carrying emigrants to New Zealand.

The “Wild Deer.”

The fastest of these China ships was the Wild Deer. She was launched from Connell’s yard in December, 1863, being his thirteenth ship; and was composite built with iron topsides, teak planking to turn of bilge and elm bottom. She had a beautiful figure-head of the goddess “Diana,” and was altogether a fine example of an out and out tea clipper.

Her measurements taken from Lloyd’s Register were as follows:—

Her poop was 42 feet long, and her foc’s’le-head 31 feet. She came out in 1863 with Cunningham’s patent single topsails, but owing to her dismasting was one of the earliest ships to send aloft double topsail yards.

The following are the original spar measurements of her mainmast:—

Wild Deer was taken from the stocks by Captain George Cobb, a well-known racing skipper in the China tea trade who had previously commanded the Robin Hood. Her complement consisted of 3 mates, 3 apprentices, carpenter, sailmaker and bosun, 16 A.B.’s and 3 ordinary seamen, it being intended to ship 4 more A.B.’s in China in the event of her getting into the race home with the cracks.

On her maiden passage she lost her foremast in the North Atlantic, owing to the want of angle irons, as Titania did a few years later, and this lost Wild Deer her chance of loading the first teas of the season. She had to put into Lisbon to refit, and came out of the Tagus with a very mixed sail plan; on the foremast she had an old-fashioned single topsail with three rows of reef points, on the main double topsails and on the mizen her original Cunningham’s patent single topsail.

Her first two tea passages from Shanghai were good average runs, but nothing remarkable, her best work being 72 days from Anjer in 1865.

In 1866 she left London on 16th April and arrived at Shanghai on 29th July, 104 days out. Again she did not succeed in getting away with the first ships, but leaving Shanghai on 10th September she made Portland on Christmas Day. A fine S.S.W. breeze was blowing and Wild Deer was romping along under all plain sail and starboard fore topmast stunsail, when the American schooner yacht, Henrietta, the winner of the first ocean yacht race, hauled out from the land and, closing on the clipper, hoisted her colours and asked her name. The late Gordon Bennett, her owner, was on board the yacht, and evidently wished to try her paces against the tea ship, as the Henrietta held on in company with Wild Deer for an hour or two, then bore away for the Needles.

On this passage whilst crossing the Indian Ocean in the S.E. trades, Wild Deer made three consecutive 24-hour runs of 312, 312 and 327 miles.

On the outward passage in 1867, Captain Cobb had to be landed ill at Anjer and died shortly afterwards. His place was taken by a Hollander skipper. The Dutchman took Wild Deer on to Shanghai and loaded tea, then leaving Shanghai in August he took the Eastern Passage, but when he had cleared Dampier Straits took it into his head to alter his course for Anjer. This absolutely spoilt Wild Deer’s chance of a quick passage, as she had to thread her way up the Java Sea through a succession of light airs and calms, and actually took 84 days to Anjer.

This was a great pity for she made a splendid run home from the Straits of Sunda, arriving in the Thames in January, only 68 days from Anjer, but 152 from Shanghai.

In 1868 her wings were cut, 3 feet being taken off her lower masts.

She was then handed over to a Captain Smith; unfortunately Smith was a regular old woman, but she was fortunate in getting Duncan as mate. This man had served in Ariel and Titania as chief officer, and was one of the best mates in the China trade, being specially noted for his skilful handling of sails in bad weather.

Wild Deer got away from London at the end of March, and left Shanghai with a tea cargo towards the end of July, a week behind one of Skinner’s beautiful little ships, the Douglas Castle. In spite of Duncan’s remonstrances, Captain Smith, who was frightened of the Caspar Straits, determined to go east about; but the Wild Deer had so good a start south through the Formosa Channel that old Smith plucked up his courage and held on for Gaspar.

The very first day after he had changed his mind, Wild Deer ran into the S.W. monsoon and had to be braced sharp up. The following morning about daybreak a ship crossed her bows on the other tack. This proved to be the Douglas Castle, and the two ships were in company all the way to Gaspar, except whilst passing Tamberlan Islands, which Wild Deer went east of, and the Douglas west.

The ships were evidently very well matched in light winds, but the Wild Deer was handicapped by the want of courage in her skipper. The night before the Straits were made it was clear moonlight, the sea dead smooth and there was a nice little breeze blowing; both ships were close-hauled on the port tack, with Wild Deer about a quarter of a mile to windward, neither ship gaining an inch.

Then at the change of the watch at midnight, old Smith backed his mainyard, clewed up his light sails and waited for morning, but young Captain McRitchie of the Douglas Castle, a far smarter man and the real sort of skipper for a tea clipper, held on, with the result that when the Wild Deer filled away again at daylight the Douglas Castle had a lead of several miles. Soon after sun up another ship was observed getting under weigh close to Billiton, where she had evidently anchored for the night; this proved to be the Peter Denny from Foochow—another of Patrick Henderson’s ships. All three ships now had a fine trial of strength in the beat through Gaspar Straits. In this windward work the Peter Denny showed up best, being by far the quickest ship at going about, but she was commanded by a very smart sailorman, Captain George Adams, who had everything arranged for quick working, whilst old Smith was specially slow at getting the Wild Deer round—he was generally late with his commands and always hauled his mainsail up, though Captain Cobb always used to work his mainsail in tacking.

At 10 a.m. the Douglas Castle kept away for the Macclesfield Channel, and about noon Wild Deer made for Clements Channel, whilst the Peter Denny held on for the Stolze; this would save her tacking again once she was clear of the Straits, as the S.E. monsoon was blowing steadily in the Java Sea. Thus the ships were parted for a time. That night was another clear moonlight night with a nice little breeze. During the first watch the Brothers were sighted on the Wild Deer, and Duncan reported them to Captain Smith, who was lying asleep on the skylight. Smith, however, had none of the alertness of a crack China trader and went off into a heavy sleep again, then during the middle watch he woke up like a bear with a sore head and asked the big Highland second mate if he had seen the Brothers yet. Of course the second mate said he had not seen them, as they had been passed whilst his watch was below. At this old Smith got in a panic; the mainyard was backed, the courses hauled up and the royal yards lowered down. On coming on deck at 4 a.m. Duncan found to his amazement that the ship was hove to, and to his disgust that one of the others had passed her during the night whilst she lay with her head under her wing. On finding out the reason from the second mate, he roused out the “Old Man” and reminded him that he had reported the Brothers during the first watch. And you may be sure that it was “jump and go” for the crew until the Wild Deer was off again.

The wind fell light as the ship approached Sunda Straits, and as Wild Deer crawled towards Anjer the other two ships were sighted ahead, almost becalmed.

Wild Deer managed to avoid the calm patch by going to the norrard of Thwarttheway Island and Krakatoa, and thus stole a march on her rivals; however, they finally came out of the Straits, neck and neck. Just before dark the S.E. trade came away. Wild Deer was still leading, but the Douglas Castle was so close astern that each crew could hear the other singing out as they trimmed sail for the run across the trades.

The next morning found Wild Deer still in the lead with the other two ships one on each quarter, and the following day the three ships separated until they were off the Cape. Then, on a day of baffling and squally winds the Wild Deer and Douglas Castle passed each other on opposite tacks, the Douglas signalling that she had spoken the Denny that morning.

The Wild Deer found a head wind in the mouth of the Channel, but eventually after two days’ beating a fine slashing breeze came out of the south-west. At Dungeness the pilot had no news of the other two ships; but just as the Wild Deer was making fast to her buoy at Gravesend the Douglas Castle came up, and, as she passed, hailed to say that the Peter Denny was close astern.

Unfortunately for Wild Deer she remained under the command of Captain Smith for several more voyages, during which she was not allowed to show her paces and usually arrived home in such a condition that Captain Sellers, the ship’s-husband (a good old name for the present day shore superintendent) used to declare that she was a disgrace to the Albion fleet.

However, on Captain Smith’s death Captain Cowan had her for two voyages, carrying emigrants to New Zealand; on Cowan leaving her to take the Wellington from the stocks, Captain Kilgour, who had been mate in her, was given command, and in 1881-2 she came home from Otago in 82 days, arriving on 30th January.

Then Captain Kerr had her; this man had been carpenter of the Peter Denny years before, and mate of the Christian McCausland, one of Henderson’s first iron ships. He was a very steady man, but no sailor.

On 12th January, 1883, when outward bound with emigrants, he piled the poor old Wild Deer up on North Rock, Cloghy, County Down, and she became a total loss.

Duncan’s Method of Taking in Sail.

It may be of interest, perhaps, to describe the method used by Duncan, the crack racing mate of Ariel, Titania, and Wild Deer, when taking in sail. For a topgallant sail he sent as many men as were available to the lee buntline and leachline; one hand, generally an apprentice, stood by the clewline, and another attended to the weather brace. Duncan himself would ease away a few feet of the halliards, then sing out:—“Let go your lee sheet!” Away would fly the sheet, followed by Duncan letting go the halliards; the hands on the buntline and leachline hauling away for all they were worth, the yard would run down and round itself in so that the boy on the weather brace only had to take in the slack. With smart hands on bunt and leachlines, the lee side of the sail would be spilt and up on the yard before it was well down and the apprentice on the clewline had only to get in the slack and make it fast. The lee side of the sail being well up, there was no trouble with the weather side. A hand in the top was almost unnecessary as the lee sheet needed no lighting up—it did that itself quick enough. The success of this method, of course, depended on the smartness of the hands on the bunt and leachline, but there were not many indifferent sailormen in a tea clipper’s foc’s’le.

In taking in a course Duncan used to man the lee bunt and leachlines well, with two hands only on the clew garnet; on the sheet being eased away bunt and leachlines were hauled smartly in, the sail was at once spilt and hauled up to the yard without a flap, the slack of the clew garnet being rounded up; then there was no trouble with the weather side.

This is also the method advocated by Captain Basil Hall in his Fragments of Voyages. Everything depended, of course, on having the necessary beef on the bunt and leachlines.

“Peter Denny.”

The Peter Denny was built by Duthie, of Aberdeen, of teak and greenheart with iron knees in the ’tween decks, and measured 998 tons.

She was not a very fast ship, her best run in the westerlies being 285 miles, but she was a very handy-easy working ship and, still better, a very comfortable happy ship. She was also well run and beautifully kept under Captain Adams.

The Albion Shipping Company, 1869 Ships.

In 1869 Duncan, of Glasgow, built the two fine little composite ships, James Nicol Fleming (afterwards renamed the Napier) and the Otago, for Patrick Henderson. They were sister ships of 993 tons register. Their top strake and bulwarks were of iron, but their bottoms were of wood with pure copper sheathing.

The Otago, by the way, must not be confused with a little iron barque of 346 tons, which was owned in Adelaide and at one time commanded by Joseph Conrad.

Patrick Henderson’s Otago was eventually sold to the Portuguese and renamed Ermilla. She was torpedoed and sunk by the Germans early in the war.

It was in 1869 that Patrick Henderson made his first venture in iron ships, Scott, of Greenock, building him the two sister ships Jessie Readman and Christian McCausland, of 962 tons register. These were fine handy little ships, good for 11 knots on a taut bowline, and equally good off the wind. They made very good outward passages with their ’tween decks full of emigrants, and loaded wool home. In those early days all the New Zealand wool was pressed on board before being stowed; this was generally done by a temporary crew of beachcombers, as it was the regular thing for a crew to run on arrival in the Colonies, however comfortable the ship was. The crew picked up for the run home was usually a fine one, of real sailormen, who had tired of the land after a short spell of working ashore.

The “Christian McCausland” Loses her Wheel.

In 1873, on the run to the Horn, when homeward bound loaded deep with wool and tallow (it was just before the days of Plimsoll) the Christian McCausland had her wheel washed away, and the incident, as showing what a beautiful steering ship she was, is worth recording.

Being very deep, she was making a wet passage of it running before the high westerly seas, and taking a good deal of heavy water aboard, especially in the waist. About eight days after leaving port she was running before a fresh gale on the starboard quarter, under reefed foresail, reefed upper topsails, and fore topmast staysail, the only sail set on the mizen being the lower topsail.

Soon after the change of the watch at 4 a.m., two heavy seas broke over the poop in quick succession, and washed away the wheel, which with the helmsman clinging to it was only brought up by the rail at the break of the poop.

The mate, whose watch it was, ran forward, singing out for all hands, and as he went, let go the topsail halliards. The ship, however, made no attempt to broach to, and ran along as steadily as if someone was at the helm.

As soon as possible the relieving tackles were rigged, and it was found that with five men on each tackle the ship could be steered without any difficulty. So the topsails were hoisted again and away she went.

The gear connecting the wheel to the rudder head was the usual right and left handed screws, which were luckily undamaged. These no doubt acted as a brake on the spindle and had a good deal to do with stopping the ship from coming up in the wind when the wheel went. The wheel and helmsman were found at the break of the poop, the man unhurt, but the wheel with every spoke broken through close to the nave as if cut by a saw.

During the morning watch the weather moderated and the carpenter was able to unship the nave of the wheel, and it was found that one of the main winch handles fitted the spindle as if made for it. This was put on the spindle, and the ship was actually steered by turning the winch handle, the helmsman facing the ship’s side and looking over his shoulder at the compass. Later on, the captain improved this curious method of steering, by lashing a small handspike to the vertical arm of the winch handle, which gave the helmsman much more command and also allowed him to stand upright. And in three days the carpenter fitted the rim of the wheel and nave with a new set of stout elm spokes, and made such a good job of it that it was not found necessary to replace them on arrival in London. The rest of the passage was uneventful, the Horn was rounded in fine weather, and the Christian McCausland finally brought up at Gravesend close astern of the Russian royal yacht, which had just brought over the Czar Alexander on a visit to England.