The Colonial Clippers

Donald Mackay’s times on the Australian run, though never very remarkable, were very consistent, her average for six consecutive outward passages being 83 days. And I find her making a passage out to Hobson’s Bay in 1867 in 84 days. She once took 1000 troops from Portsmouth to Mauritius in 70 days.

“Blue Jacket,” “White Star” and “Shalimar.”

Three other magnificent ships were built on the other side of the Atlantic for the Liverpool-Melbourne emigrant trade in 1854. These were the Blue Jacket, White Star and Shalimar.

The Blue Jacket came from the well-known yard of R. E. Jackson in East Boston, the other two ships being Nova Scotian built. The Blue Jacket arrived in the Mersey on 20th October, 1854, having made the run from Boston, land to land, in 12 days 10 hours; the Shalimar arrived about the same time, and the White Star reached Liverpool on 1st December, 15 days out from St. John’s in spite of strong head winds. She was timber laden and drawing 22½ feet of water. The Blue Jacket on her arrival was bought by James John Frost, of London, and put on the berth for Melbourne as one of the Fox Line of packets, the other two being owned by the White Star Line.

In looking at old pictures and prints of these American built ships, several points in their construction seem to have been common to all, such as the semi-elliptical stern, the bowsprit built into the sheer, the large wheel-house aft, etc.; their figure-heads, also, were generally most elaborate full-length figures and did not grow out of the bow in the graceful way of the British-built, but seemed to be plastered upon it. And from Marco Polo to Donald Mackay, these soft-wood clippers had more the appearance of strength and power than of grace and beauty, though the famous Red Jacket was an exception, being an extremely taking ship to the eye.

Blue Jacket, however, was of the powerful type, and extremely like the Mackay ships in appearance. She was designed to stow a large cargo, having a full midship section, but her bow was long and sharp enough.

Her chief measurements were:—

Her poop was 80 feet long and 7 feet high, and she had 8 feet of height between decks. She had the usual accommodation arrangements, two points only being perhaps worth noting; the first was a line of plate glass portholes running the length of her ’tween decks, and the second was an iron water tank to hold 7000 gallons.

Blue Jacket sailed for Melbourne on 6th March, 1855, in charge of Captain Underwood, and made a magnificent run out of 69 days. She further distinguished herself at a later date by making the homeward run in 69 days.

Shalimar, the smallest ship of the three, measured 1557 tons register; 195.8 feet length; 35.2 feet beam; and 23 feet depth. She sailed for Hobson’s Bay on 23rd November, 1854, was off Cape Northumberland in 67 days, but owing to head winds took another 10 days to reach her port. She came home in 75 days, her whole voyage, including 45 days in port, only occupying 6 months and 14 days. The newspaper report of her passage out states that she ran 420 miles in the 24 hours on one occasion, though unfortunately it gives no particulars.

The most celebrated of these three ships was the White Star, which had the distinction of being the largest clipper built by Wright, of New Brunswick, her measurements being:—

The White Star soon proved herself to be one of the fastest ships afloat. On her first voyage she did nothing out of the way, being 79 days out and 88 days home. But in 1856 she went out in 75 days (67 days land to land), and came home in 76 days, beating the auxiliary Royal Charter by 10 days from port to port. In 1858, she went out in 72 days, this being the best White Star passage of the year; whilst on 25th February, 1860, she left Melbourne and made her number off Cape Clear in 65 days. In 1860 she went out in 69 days, running 3306 miles in 10 days between the Cape and Melbourne.

The Wreck of the “Schomberg.”

We now come to the unfortunate Schomberg, the only wooden ship ever built in a British yard that could in any way compare with the big Boston and Nova Scotian built ships in size.

In 1854, James Baines was so impressed by the success of the little Aberdeen tea clippers, that he gave Hall an order for a monster emigrant clipper of 2600 tons. Unfortunately, Hall had had no experience in the building of emigrant ships and the Schomberg was more of a copy of Mackay’s clippers than Hall’s own beautiful little ships. The Schomberg cost when ready for sea £43,103 or £18 17s. 6d. per ton. She measured:—

She had three skins, two of diagonal planking, and one fore and aft, the whole fastened together with screw-threaded hard-wood trunnels—a novelty in shipbuilding. She was specially heavily rigged, her mainmast weighing 15 tons, being a pitch-pine spar 110 feet in length and 42 inches in diameter. Her mainyard was 110 feet long. She crossed three skysail yards, but no moonsail.

Captain Forbes, as commodore of the Black Ball, was shifted into her from the Lightning, and great hopes were entertained that she would lower the record to Australia.

On 6th October, 1855, she was hauled through the pier heads amidst the cheers of a patriotic crowd of sightseers, with the boast of “Sixty days to Melbourne” flying from her signal halliards. The passage was one of light and moderate winds. Schomberg was 28 days to the line and 55 days to the Greenwich meridian. Running her easting down she averaged 6 degrees daily to 130° E., her greatest speed being 15½ knots and her best run 368 miles. She made the land off Cape Bridgewater at 1 p.m. on Xmas day, the wind being fresh at E.S.E. On 27th December after two days’ tacking, with the wind still blowing fresh from ahead, Forbes went about at noon when 4 miles off shore and tacked out; at 6 p.m. he tacked in again. At about 10.30 p.m., the land being faintly visible, the wind gradually died away. It was a moonlight night. Forbes was playing cards in the saloon when the mate came down and reported that the ship was getting rather close in under the land and suggested going about. As luck would have it, Forbes was losing and, being a bit out of temper, insisted on playing another rubber of whist before tacking ship, and the danger point had been overstripped when at 11 o’clock he came on deck and gave the order to ’bout ship.

As there was next to no wind and a current running 3 to 4 knots to the westward, the Schomberg refused to come round. Forbes next tried to wear her, with the result that the ship slid up on to a sandbank 35 miles west of Cape Otway. On sounding round the ship it was found that she was stuck fast in 4 fathoms of water. Sail was kept on her in the hopes of it pulling her off into deep water again.

Forbes, on being told that the ship was hard aground, said angrily:—“Let her go to Hell, and tell me when she is on the beach,” and at once went below.

Henry Cooper Keen, the mate, then took charge, and finding that the Schomberg was only being hove further in by the swell and current, clewed up all sail, let go the starboard anchor and lowered the boats. And it was subsequently proved at the inquiry afterwards that it was chiefly due to the chief officer and a first class passenger, a civil engineer of Belfast named Millar, that all the passengers were safely disembarked and put aboard the steamer Queen, which hove in sight on the following morning.

All efforts to save the ship failed and she presently went to pieces. Forbes at the inquiry was acquitted of all blame for the stranding, the sandbank being uncharted, but at a mass meeting of his passengers in the Mechanics’ Institute, Melbourne, he was very severely censured. Many of them declared that he was so disgusted with the slowness of the passage that he let the ship go ashore on purpose. Others complained of his tyranny during the voyage and even made worse allegations against his morality and that of the ship’s doctor; altogether the affair was a pretty scandal and Forbes never obtained another command in the Black Ball Line.

The Best Outward Passages—Liverpool to Melbourne, 1854-5.

1855-1857—Captain Anthony Enright and the “Lightning.”

When Forbes was given the Schomberg, James Baines offered the command of the Lightning to Captain Anthony Enright, who had earned a great reputation as a passage maker in the tea clipper Chrysolite. At the same time the White Star Line asked Enright to take over the Red Jacket, and it was only after considerable deliberation that he decided to take the Lightning, first demanding a salary of £1000 a year. The Black Ball Line replied that it was a great deal more than they had ever previously given to their captains, but eventually they agreed to his terms rather than lose such a good man.

Captain Enright had the Lightning for four voyages, from January, 1855, to August, 1857, and proved himself perhaps the most popular and successful captain under the famous house-flag; indeed, under him the Lightning became a very favourite ship with passengers.

Enright was a very religious man, a Puritan of the old type yet no bigot: a stern disciplinarian, the men before the mast knew that he was sure to give them a square deal, impartial and just, and fair treatment for good service, and for that reason never gave him trouble, whilst in controlling his passengers and keeping a happy ship in spite of the trials of such long passages and crowded quarters, he showed the most wonderful tact and gift for ruling men. This gift of tact was perhaps more desirable in the captain of an emigrant ship than in any other walk of life, especially in the days of the gold rush when the emigrants represented every nationality, every creed, every class and every trade; and the Lightning, under Enright, was as good an example of the best-run first-class emigrant ships as can be found. I therefore intend to give as good a picture of life aboard the Lightning during 1855-7 as I possibly can with the material at my command.

Captain Enright’s Regulations.

First of all I will give a list of Enright’s regulations for preserving order amongst his passengers, which were always posted up in prominent places about the ship.

RULES OF THE Lightning.

The Passengers on the “Lightning.”

Perhaps a few details regarding the number and kind of passengers, for which these rules were framed, may now be of interest.

In 1855 the Lightning took out 47 saloon, 53 second cabin, 20 intermediate and 253 steerage passengers, her crew numbering 87; total of souls on board—495.

In 1856 her purser gave the following details of the outward bound passengers:—

On the homeward passage the numbers were naturally very much less, and women were not so numerous.

In 1855 the Lightning brought home 51 saloon, 123 second cabin and 80 intermediate; total—254. On her second voyage that year, owing to the accident to her false bow when outward bound, she could only muster 80 passengers.

In 1856 her homeward bound passengers consisted of:—

All Europe sailed from Liverpool to the Australian goldfields, so that all nationalities were to be found in a Black Baller’s foc’s’le.

I find the following account in the Lightning Gazette, the newspaper published on board, of 1855:—“Here in the steerage we find there are many nations, including Jews, Germans and French; the largest number, however, being English with a few Irish and Scots. Here are all ages and not all, but many, trades and occupations. Here are some more or less successful diggers, who had returned to their native land to gratify a feeling of love and affection; or it may be vanity; and who are now returning to settle in the land of promise.”

The homeward bound passengers were just as mixed if only half as numerous—thus the Gazette when homeward bound in 1856:—

And under the heading of “The Gent Afloat,” I find a very amusing description of the adventurer of the times aboard ship, and though it is rather long, it is such a vivid little study of a type of character, only too common in the snobbish mid-Victorian era, that I cannot resist giving it in full.

The Gent Afloat.

“This class of individual is to be found in great abundance in every clipper ship community. He is easily known, more easily detected. He is a man of vast importance when first he steps aboard; makes no advances; keeps aloof; is evidently selecting, with great caution, those with whom he dare associate without compromising his connections. After a little time, however, he—with a condescending grace, which cannot be too highly extolled—relaxes slightly his vigorous demeanour, and smiles upon the very young men of known good family (of course), occasionally honours them with his arm and promenades the deck for half an hour—is very careful during the peregrination to recount his latest adventures at home—the parting dinners Captain Allalie and Colonel Gammon would insist on giving him; the ballet dancer, who forsook an Earl for his advances and embraces; the prima donna who would insist on rehearsing her role before him as she entertained so high an opinion of his musical criticism and abilities. The borough he might have gone in for at the last election, with the Duke of Sarum’s interest, but that his own family objected on the score of difference in political opinions, and the positive certainty that in a few years his great talents and eloquence must command the most independent seat in the House.

“He is of an average height and features, with the exception of a protruding chin, which gives to the mouth a horrible grin; an eyeglass of course; luxuriant hair and whiskers, redolent of macassar. He apes the gait of a military man; wears a frock coat terribly inclined to the third and fourth letters of the alphabet; a waistcoat of the most approved and fashionable cut; trowsers of the loudest plaid style about two to the pair, with very ragged bottoms and straps, the latter article proving a very useful adjunct when the supply of socks falls short; a shirt with miniature cartoons after Raphael or a correct likeness of the last murderer and the last ballet dancer printed upon it; a necktie of the striking stripe pattern, to make him smart. His whole appearance is indicative of a worn-out Stultz. His hands are covered with a variety of rings, from the enamelled and delicately wrought diamond to the massive and substantial signet bearing his crest. An immense watch chain (bearing a striking resemblance to the ship’s cable) with an abundance of charms attached completes the tout ensemble of the outer man. His wardrobe is somewhat limited—but this he accounts for by—‘D—n those agents, the rascals have put my trunks marked “wanted on the voyage” in the hold, and left out those “not wanted,” isn’t it annoying? Could you lend me a few shirts until they’re got at?’ He is decidedly great at the borrowing dodge. Of course his cigars, tobacco and all the little comforts for the journey are in his trunks in the hold. But the way he solicits a loan of the required articles is irresistible. His natural grace (or impudence, we don’t know which) defies refusal. But at last even that—as all things good or bad will—palls and borrowing becomes a more difficult art. Friends shirk him, acquaintances avoid him, and long before the end of the journey ‘the Gent Afloat’ is known and scouted as a penniless, reckless adventurer void alike of honour or honesty.”

Shipboard Newspapers.

This account of an adventurer of the fifties came out of the Lightning Gazette, a paper published weekly aboard the ship.

Realising the importance of keeping such a mixed collection of passengers amused Messrs. James Baines put a printing press aboard each of their ships and thus the issue of the shipboard newspaper was something always to be eagerly looked forward to on Saturdays. In many an English and Australian home there are no doubt still to be found treasured, stained and tattered, copies of these ships’ newspapers. I have myself handled volumes of the Lightning Gazette, the Eagle Herald, the Royal Charter Times and coming down to more modern days, the Loch Torridon Journal and other Loch Line papers.

The printer of these ship newspapers was usually a paid member of the crew, but the editor and sub-editor were elected by the passengers, the captain, of course, acting not only as a frequent contributor but also as a censor—no matter of a controversial sort either religious, political or otherwise being ever allowed to appear in the news sheet of Captain Enright’s ship.

The Ship’s Notice Board.

The ship’s official newspaper sometimes had to contend against rival productions, promoted by private enterprise, but its chief rival was the ship’s notice board, which was a stout one, being no less than the mainmast.

Here are a few notices, gathered haphazard from the Lightning’s mainmast.

Riddles and Epigrams, so numerous in the Gazette, were not, however, to be found on the ship’s notice board. The riddles are mostly very feeble, many of them making great play with the ship’s name, thus:—

But there is a rather more interesting one of the times:—

The epigrams are better, as follows:—

and—

The Ship’s Band and Concerts, etc.

Perhaps the most important method of keeping an emigrant ship’s passengers amused was by means of the ship’s band, especially in those days when dancing was so popular, that even in bad weather the poops of these ships were always crowded with dancers every evening.

Of course the bands provided were not quite on a par with those of present day leviathans crossing the Atlantic; the Lightning, for instance, rejoiced in the good old-fashioned German band, which used to be such an institution in the London streets and is now practically extinct. This band consisted of six musicians, and besides playing selections and accompaniments at the concerts, supplied the music for the daily dancing.

In those days the polka was the great dance, the valse had not yet come into fashion and was not very well known, and instead of the romping lancers the stately quadrille was the order of the day.

I find a set of instructions showing a sailor how to dance a quadrille in one of the numbers of the Lightning Gazette. It is rather too long to quote, but the following figure shows the gist of it:—“Heave ahead and pass your adversary yardarm to yardarm: regain your berth on the other tack in the same order: take your station in a line with your partner, back and fill, face on your heel and bring up with your partner: she then manœuvres ahead and heaves all aback, fills and shoots ahead again and pays off alongside: you then make sail in company until stern on with the other line: make a stern board and cast her off to shift for herself: regain your berth by the best means possible and let go your anchor.”

Looking over the old concert programmes, I find that negro melodies (now called coon songs) were even then very popular, amongst which figured “Nelly Bligh,” “Poor Old Joe,” “Stop dat Knockin’,” “Oh! Carry Me Back” and others. The rest of the programmes were generally filled up with the old familiar Scots and Irish folk-songs, some well-known English choruses, the usual sentimental ditty, and amongst the sailor songs I find “A Life on the Ocean Wave,” “Cheer, Boys, Cheer,” “I’m Afloat,” “The Pride of the Ocean” and “The Death of Nelson.” Concerts were generally pretty numerous during a passage. As a rule each class had its own; then, to end up, a “Grand Monster Concert” was organised, in which the talents of saloon, house on deck, and steerage were pitted against one another.

Other diversions of this kind were plays of the class of “Bombastes Furioso”; mock trials, with the invariable verdict of guilty on the wretched culprit and the sentence of “champagne all round,” and of course debating, choral and other societies.

Then there were the usual high jinks crossing the line; and such occasions as the Queen’s Birthday, the “Captain’s Wedding Day,” etc., were celebrated by “a cold collation of the most sumptuous order” in the saloon and many speeches.

A Bill of Fare on the “Lightning.”

In the first cabin the living on these big clippers seems to have been uncommonly good for such a length of time at sea. Here is the dinner menu of 14th January, 1855, on the Lightning, when a week out from Liverpool.

St. Valentine’s Day.

Captain Enright was very fertile in raising a new amusement directly his passengers began to show signs of boredom. His favourite dodge was to appoint a St. Valentine’s Day, when a letter box was placed in front of the poop and twice during the day the darkey steward, Richard, who was evidently a great character, came round and delivered the Valentines as postman. He was always dressed up for the occasion in some extraordinarily fantastic costume of his own invention—and his antics and fun, quite as much as the contents of his postbag, kept the ship in roars of laughter and most successfully dissipated all signs of boredom and discontent. Here is one account of his doings:—

And it goes on to say:—

And here is one of the Valentines which Captain Enright received:—