was a particularly ravenous species of shark which used also to be known as the “sea lawyer.”

At one time this abuse of the law became such a powerful instrument of extortion that captains and officers, innocent of any wrong, unless the protection of life and property be regarded as wrong, were compelled to leave their ships in the harbor of New York before they hauled alongside the wharf, in order to escape prosecution, and were made to appear like criminals fleeing from justice. This cannot be considered a very cheerful welcome home after a voyage round the globe. Yet it compares not unfavorably with the reception sometimes accorded the returning traveller nowadays—at the hands of officers of the law empowered to collect “protective” duties on personal effects.

After a while this nefarious trade, by which ship-owners, captains, officers, and crews were alike defrauded, perished by its own rapacity; but the attitude of the United States Government of half a century ago in permitting her splendid American merchant captains and officers to be subjected to gross indignities, and the foreign seamen sailing under her flag to be robbed and shipped away without their knowledge or consent, must ever remain a blot upon the page of American maritime history.

Those well-intentioned philanthropists who had an idea that sailors were being ill-treated on board American ships, and who wasted sympathy upon a class of men most of whom required severe discipline, might have been better employed had they exerted their energies toward purging the seaports of the country of the dens of vice and gangs of robbers that infested them, though this might not have been so romantic as a sentimental interest in the welfare of the sailor when encountering the supposed terrors of the deep. As a matter of fact, the lives, limbs, and morals of sailors at that period were very much safer at sea than they were on land.

It is refreshing to turn to one man, at least, who knew and understood sailors, and who in early life had himself been a sailor. This was the Rev. Edward Thompson Taylor, known upon every sea with respect and affection as “Father Taylor.” In 1833 the Seaman’s Bethel was erected in North Square, Boston, and there Father Taylor presided for some forty years. During that time he did an enormous amount of good, both among sailors themselves, to whom he spoke in language which they could understand and feel, and by drawing the attention of influential men and women to the lamentable condition of the life of sailors when on shore, not only in Boston, but in all the great seaports of the United States. For many years the Seaman’s Bethel was one of the most interesting sights of Boston, and all classes were attracted there by the novel and picturesque earnestness and eloquence of Father Taylor. Distinguished visitors were usually taken there or went of their own accord, to listen to the words of this inspired seaman, and many of them have recorded their impressions. Harriet Martineau, J. S. Buckingham, M. P., Charles Dickens, Frederika Bremer, John Ross Dix, Mrs. Jameson, Catherine Sedgwick, and Walt Whitman all testified to the wonderful power of this homely, self-educated Baptist preacher.

Father Taylor had little to say about the treatment of sailors on shipboard, for he knew that they were treated with humanity and according to their deserts, but he did have a great deal to say about their life and vile associations on shore; he once prayed with unconscious humor, “that Bacchus and Venus might be driven to the ends of the earth and off it.” He possessed a marvellous power of description, and perhaps no poet or painter has more vividly portrayed the ever-changing moods of the ocean. He used these superb sea pictures as metaphors and illustrations. I have a clear remembrance of some of them and recall them with gratitude, but no words of mine can convey an adequate impression of their beauty and grandeur; his was a genius that eludes description.

It was once said of Father Taylor that he hated the devil more than he loved God, but I think whoever said this could not have understood him, for the affection, tenderness, and substantial help which Father Taylor lavished upon God’s children, afflicted in body and mind, knew no bounds. At the same time he knew the men whom it was his mission to rescue, and often when denouncing their follies and vices his words fell hot as burning coals. He detested shams in any form, and was swift to detect them in sailors as well as in others.

In those days there was far too much ignorant sentimentality bestowed upon seamen and their affairs, too much

Sad enough, no doubt, to the captain of a clipper ship bound round Cape Horn, compelled to stand by and see his canvas slatting to pieces in the first bit of a blow outside Sandy Hook, because he was cursed with a crew unable or unwilling to handle it. But this seldom happened more than once aboard of an American clipper in the fifties, for such a crew was taken in hand and soon knocked into shape by the mates, carpenter, sailmaker, cook, steward, and boatswain. Belaying pins, capstan-bars, and heavers began to fly about the deck, and when the next gale came along the crew found that they could get aloft and make some kind of show at stowing sails, and by the time the ship got down to the line, they were usually pretty smart at handling canvas. As the clipper winged her way southward, and the days grew shorter, and the nights colder, belaying pins, capstan bars, and heavers were all back in their places, for system, order, and discipline had been established. When the snow-squalls began to gather on the horizon, and the old-time clipper lifted her forefoot to the first long, gray Cape Horn roller, with albatross and Cape pigeons wheeling and screaming in her wake, the mate, as he stood at the break of the quarter-deck in his long pilot-cloth watch-coat, woollen mittens, sea boots, and sou’wester, and sung out to the boatswain to get his men along for a pull on the weather braces, felt with pride that he had something under him that the “old man” could handle in almost any kind of weather—a well-manned ship.

In those days of carrying canvas as long and sometimes longer than spars and rigging would stand, with only brawn, capstans and watch tackles to handle it, the crew was a far more important factor on board a sailing ship than in the present era of steel spars, wire rigging, double topsail, and topgallant yards, donkey engines and steam winches. Indeed, all the conditions were quite different from anything known at the present time and required a type of men, both forward and aft, that do not sail upon the ocean to-day.

CHAPTER IX

CALIFORNIA CLIPPERS OF 1850 AND THEIR COMMANDERS—MAURY’S WIND AND CURRENT CHARTS

The superiority of the clippers in speed was even more marked in the average length and regularity of their voyages than in their record passages; they could be depended on not to make long passages; with their sharp lines and lofty canvas they were able to cross belts of calm and light winds much more quickly than the low rigged, full-bodied ships, while in strong head winds there was no comparison, as the sharper ships would work out to windward in weather that held the old type of vessels like a barrier, until the wind hauled fair or moderated. In a word, the clippers could go and find strong or favorable winds while the full-bodied ships were compelled to wait for them.

It must be admitted that some remarkably fast passages were made by the old full-built American vessels. We have seen Captain Waterman’s record with the Natchez, and other cases of this kind might be cited; but they prove nothing beyond the fact that with a fair wind and enough of it, other things being equal, a well-handled, full-modelled ship is about as fast as a clipper; also that single passages except as between vessels sailing together, are not the most reliable tests of speed. A number of passages by the same vessel, or a record of best days’ runs, afford a more accurate means of arriving at a just estimate of speed.

The first California clippers, thirteen in number, were launched during the year 1850, the Celestial, 860 tons, built by William H. Webb and owned by Bucklin & Crane, of New York, being the first to leave the ways. She was soon followed by the Mandarin, 776 tons, built by Smith & Dimon for Goodhue & Co., of New York, and the Surprise, 1361 tons, owned by A. A. Low & Brother; Game-Cock, 1392 tons, owned by Daniel C. Bacon, Boston, and the barque Race Horse, 512 tons, owned by Goddard & Co., Boston, all built by Samuel Hall at East Boston. The Witchcraft, 1310 tons, was built at Chelsea by Paul Curtis, for S. Rogers & W. D. Pickman, of Salem; the John Bertram, 1080 tons, by R. E. Jackson at East Boston, for Glidden & Williams, of Boston; the Governor Morton, 1318 tons, by James M. Hood at Somerset, for Handy & Everett, of New York; the Sea Serpent, 1337 tons, by George Raynes at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, for Grinnell, Minturn & Co., of New York; the Eclipse, 1223 tons, by J. Williams & Son at Williamsburg, for T. Wardle & Co., of New York; the Seaman, 546 tons, by Bell & Co., at Baltimore, for Funck & Meincke, of New York; the White Squall, 1118 tons, by Jacob Bell, for W. Platt & Son, of Philadelphia, and the Stag-Hound, 1535 tons, by Donald McKay at East Boston, for Sampson & Tappan and George B. Upton, of Boston.

The Celestial was a remarkably good-looking ship and much sharper than any vessel built by Mr. Webb up to that time. She carried long, slender spars, with plenty of canvas, and proved a very fast and able ship.

The Mandarin, also a fine-looking ship, was intended by her builders to be an improved Sea Witch, and although she made some excellent passages, she never came up to the older vessel in point of speed; the Sea Witch was her builders’ masterpiece, and they, like many others, found her a difficult ship to improve upon.

The Surprise was one of the most successful clipper ships ever constructed, and proved a mine of wealth for her owners. She was fully rigged on the stocks, with all her gear rove off, and was

launched with her three skysail yards across and colors flying, which attracted a multitude of people. They rather expected to see her capsize, and were no doubt highly delighted to find that nothing unusual happened as she glided swiftly down the ways, or at that critical instant when her hull was still partly supported on the land and partly on the waves, or when she swung to her anchors on even keel, with the beautiful skyline of Boston of half a century ago outlined in the distance.

Mr. Hall was a master ship-builder and had figured the weights, displacement, and stability of his ship with the same exactness with which an astronomer foretells the transit of a planet; yet with all the anxiety incident to experiments of this kind, he had found time for plans of a less serious nature. He had a pavilion erected in order that the mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters of the men who had built this beautiful ship might look with comfort upon the crowning scene of their kinsmen’s labors, and after the ship was safely afloat, all were invited to a luxurious lunch served upon long tables in the mould loft, which was gaily decorated with flags. There the master foreman of the yard presided, while Mr. Hall entertained personal friends, whom he had asked to see the launch, at his own hospitable home.

The Surprise measured: length 190 feet, breadth 39 feet, depth 22 feet with 30 inches dead-rise at half floor. Her main-yard was 78 feet long from boom-iron to boom-iron, and her mainmast was 84 feet from heel to cap, with other spars in proportion. She was beautifully fitted throughout, was painted black from the water-line up, and carried a finely carved and gilded flying eagle for a figurehead, while her stern was ornamented with the arms of New York. She was manned by a crew of 30 able seamen, 6 ordinary seamen, 4 boys, 2 boatswains, a carpenter, a sailmaker, 2 cooks, a steward, and 4 mates, and was commanded by Captain Philip Dumaresq, who had gained a high reputation while in command of the Antelope, Akbar, and Great Britain.

Captain Dumaresq was born at Swan Island, near Richmond, on the Kennebec River. His father had settled there on an estate which came to him through his mother, who before her marriage was the beautiful Rebecca Gardiner, of Gardiner, Maine, and a daughter of the Rev. John Sylvester Gardiner, the first rector of Trinity Church, Boston. Unlike most American boys, who used to go to sea, young Dumaresq had no special desire for a life upon the ocean, but was sent on a voyage to China by his parents, under the advice of a physician, on account of his delicate health. He soon grew robust, and at the age of twenty-two took command of a vessel, afterwards becoming one of the most celebrated and widely known of all the American clipper ship captains.

When the Surprise arrived at New York to load for San Francisco, the New York Herald declared that she was the handsomest ship ever seen in the port, and a large number of persons gathered to see her placed at her loading berth by the steamer R. B. Forbes, which had towed her round from Boston.

The R. B. Forbes at that time, so to speak, was a well-known character about Massachusetts Bay, and no marine function seemed quite complete without her presence. She was generally on hand at launches, regattas, and Fourth of July celebrations, with a jolly party of Boston underwriters and their friends on board, accompanied by a band of music and well-filled hampers of refreshments. Her hull was painted a brilliant red up to the bulwarks, which were black, while the deck fittings, houses, and the inside of the bulwarks were a bright green. Altogether, with a rainbow of bunting over her mastheads, the brass band in full blast, and champagne corks flying about her deck, she contributed liberally to the gayety of many festive occasions. She was also usually the first to introduce a new-born ship to the end of a manila hawser, and for several years she towed most of the eastern-built clippers to their loading berths at Boston or New York.

But these were only the odd jobs at which she put in her time when not engaged in her more serious work of salvage operations, for she was the best equipped and most powerful wrecking steamer on the Atlantic coast, and saved much valuable property abandoned to the Boston Underwriters, for whom she was built by Otis Tafts at East Boston in 1845. She was 300 tons register, and was one of the few vessels at that date constructed of iron and fitted with a screw propeller, her engines and boilers being designed by the renowned Ericsson. Her commander, Captain Morris, not only was a very able wreck master, but did a great deal by experiment and observation to solve the intricate problems relating to the deviation of the magnetic needle on board of iron vessels, and was one of the few reliable authorities of his day upon this important subject. At the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861, the R. B. Forbes was purchased by the United States Government, but before the end of the war she was wrecked and became a total loss near Hatteras Inlet. It is hardly necessary to mention that this vessel was named in honor of that noble seaman, Captain Robert Bennett Forbes, whose acts of kindness and humanity were so many that a book might well be devoted to a record of them.

The Witchcraft was a very beautiful ship, and was commanded by Captain William C. Rogers, a son of one of the owners, for whom she was built. Captain Rogers was born at Salem in 1823 and had made several voyages as supercargo on board of different ships to Calcutta and Canton. He was a man of unusual ability, and although he never sailed before the mast, or as officer of a ship, he had acquired a knowledge of seamanship and navigation which enabled him to become one of the most famous among the younger clipper ship captains. He was a rare example of a gentleman who went to sea for the pure love of it, who enjoyed dealing with the useful realities of life, and liked a real ship with real sailors on board of her, and a real voyage of commerce profitable to mankind, in preference to an aimless life of luxury and pleasure.

During the Civil War Captain Rogers was one of the twelve naval commanders appointed by Act of Congress, and he commanded the U. S. clipper barque William G. Anderson, which mounted six thirty-two pounders and a long rifled gun amidships, and carried a crew of one hundred and ten men. While in command of this vessel, Captain Rogers captured the Confederate privateer Beauregard, Captain Gilbert Hays, one hundred miles east-northeast of Abaco in the Bahamas, November 12, 1861. He also commanded the U. S. gunboat Iuka, and in her rendered valuable service to his country during the remainder of the war. He subsequently married a granddaughter of Nathaniel Bowditch, the illustrious navigator.

The John Bertram was an extremely sharp ship, and was the pioneer of Glidden & Williams’s line of San Francisco clippers. She was named for Captain Bertram, one of Salem’s most famous seamen and merchants, and was for several years commanded by Captain Landholm.

The Sea Serpent was the first clipper ship built by Mr. Raynes, and was a slender, rakish, handsome-looking craft, comparing favorably with the New York and Boston clippers of that year. She was commanded by Captain Williams Howland, a seaman of experience and ability, who was born at New Bedford in 1804. In 1833 he took command of the Horatio, then a new ship and afterwards famous, on her first voyage from New York to China, and remained in her for about ten years. He subsequently commanded the packet ships Ashburton, Henry Clay, Cornelius Grinnell, and the Constantine. Captain Howland was a gentleman of much dignity, who usually wore kid gloves when he came on deck and seldom gave his orders to any one but the officer of the watch. He had the reputation of being an A 1 seaman and navigator.

The White Squall was another handsome clipper, very similar in construction and design to the Samuel Russell and Oriental from the same yard. Although but little more than eleven hundred tons register, this ship cost when ready for sea with one year’s stores and provisions on board the sum of $90,000, and her freight from New York to San Francisco on her first voyage amounted to $70,000. She was commanded by Captain Lockwood, and her measurements were: length 190 feet, breadth 35 feet 6 inches, and depth 21 feet.

The Stag-Hound, at the time of her launch was the largest merchant ship ever built, though during the nine years that the Cunard Company had been running mail steamers across the Atlantic, the tonnage of American packet ships had steadily increased. In 1846, as we have seen, Donald McKay had built the New World of 1404 tons, and in 1849 William H. Webb launched the Albert Gallatin of 1435 tons, so that the Stag-Hound, 1535 tons, was not a very much larger vessel; but she was of a decidedly different design, having less beam and seventeen feet more length than either of these packets. She attracted much attention and many persons came to see her while she was building. A throng estimated at from twelve to fifteen thousand gathered about the shipyard at noon on December 7, 1850, to witness her launch. The weather was bitterly cold, with drift ice in the harbor and snow

lying deep on the ground. It was feared that the launch might have to be postponed on account of the tallow freezing on the ways, but when she had settled in her cradle and everything was ready, a gang of men came from the forge bearing cans filled with boiling whale oil, which they poured upon the ways. When the word was given to knock away the dog shores, the vessel moved rapidly down the smoking ways and plunged into the gray, icy waters of the harbor, amid shouts and cheers from a shivering crowd, while the bells of Boston rang out mellow and clear, on the calm, frosty air, in welcome to the largest merchant ship afloat.

Launches were not then regarded as social functions, although some of the most prominent families in New York and Boston, who were interested in shipping, attended them, and a pavilion was usually erected where they might picnic comfortably and enjoy themselves. It was also not customary in those days for women to name ships, but the ceremony, which was simple and effective, was usually performed by the foreman of the yard from which the ship was launched. On this occasion, when the Stag-Hound began to move along the ways, the foreman had a black bottle of Medford rum somewhere about, which he seized by the neck and smashed across her forefoot, at the same time, in the excitement of the moment, shouting out, “Stag-Hound, your name’s Stag-Hound!” and thus brought the ceremony to a close. This vessel measured: length 215 feet, breadth 40 feet, depth 21 feet, with 40 inches dead-rise at half floor. Her mainyard was 86 feet and her mainmast 88 feet in length. She was commanded on her first voyage by Captain Josiah Richardson, and carried a crew of 36 able seamen, 6 ordinary seamen, and 4 boys. When she arrived at New York in tow of the R. B. Forbes, to load for San Francisco, the ship fanciers of South Street were for once in their lives of one mind, and their opinion seems to have been that the Stag-Hound came pretty near being the perfection of the clipper ship type.

Each one of the clippers of 1850 proved a credit to the yard from which she was launched, and nearly all of them made the passage from New York or Boston to San Francisco in less than one hundred and ten days. This is an exceedingly good record, although the passage from New York has been made by two vessels, the Flying Cloud and the Andrew Jackson, in a few hours less than ninety days. In Appendix II. will be found the names of ships that made this passage in one hundred and ten days or less, with the dates of their arrivals at San Francisco, for the years 1850-1860. While this list includes almost all of the extreme clippers, still there were a number of ships that gave proof by their other records of being fast and ably commanded, and yet failed to come within the limit of one hundred and ten days.

As most persons are aware, foreign vessels have never been allowed to engage in the United States coasting trade, also that the voyage between Atlantic and Pacific ports of the United States has always been regarded as a coasting voyage. The California clippers therefore had no foreign competitors to sail against, but the racing among themselves was sufficiently keen to satisfy the most enthusiastic lover of sport, while China and Australia voyages afforded opportunities for international rivalry.

The only clipper ship to make the voyage to San Francisco prior to 1850 was the Memnon, under Captain George Gordon, which arrived there July 28, 1849, after a record passage of one hundred and twenty days from New York. The first contest of clippers round Cape Horn took place in 1850, between the Houqua, Sea Witch, Samuel Russell, and Memnon, old rivals on China voyages, and the new clippers Celestial, Mandarin, and Race Horse. All of these vessels had their friends, and large sums of money were wagered on the result, the four older ships, especially the Sea Witch, having established high reputations for speed. The Samuel Russell was commanded by Captain Charles Low, previously of the Houqua, while the Houqua was now commanded by Captain McKenzie; Captain Gordon was again in the Memnon, and Captain George Fraser, who had sailed with Captain Waterman as chief mate, commanded the Sea Witch.

The Samuel Russell arrived at San Francisco May 6, 1850, after a passage of 109 days from New York, thus knocking 11 days off the record, and her friends and backers felt confident that this passage could not be surpassed, at all events not by any of the clippers of that year. This opinion was in a measure confirmed when the Houqua arrived on July 23d, 120 days from New York, but on the following day the Sea Witch came romping up the bay, 97 days from Sandy Hook, reducing the record by another 12 days. This passage astonished every one, even her warmest admirers, and well it might, for it has never been equalled by a ship of her tonnage and not often excelled even by larger vessels. This performance of the Sea Witch was the more remarkable as she had rounded Cape Horn during the Antarctic midwinter.

The remainder of the fleet arrived in the following order: Memnon, September 27th, 123 days; Celestial, November 1st, 104 days; Race Horse, from Boston, November 24th, 109 days; and the Mandarin, November 29th, 126 days from New York. These were all fine passages, especially when we consider that none of the vessels was over 1100 tons register. The records show that from June 26 to July 28, 1850, seventeen vessels from New York and sixteen from Boston arrived at San Francisco, whose average passages were 159 days, so that even the Mandarin’s passage of 126 days was very fast by comparison. We must remember also that none of these vessels had the advantage of using Maury’s Wind and Current Charts, as at that time sufficient material had not been collected to perfect them.

Navigators of all nationalities are deeply indebted to Lieutenant Matthew Fontaine Maury, U. S. N., for it was his mind that first conceived the idea of exploring the winds and currents of the ocean. Lieutenant Maury was a Virginian by birth, and in 1825 at the age of nineteen, entered the United State Navy as a midshipman on board the frigate Brandywine. In 1830 he was appointed sailing master of the sloop of war Falmouth, and ordered to the Pacific station. At this time, being anxious to make a rapid passage round Cape Horn, he searched in vain for information relating to the winds and currents. His attention was thus directed to this subject, and it was upon this voyage that he conceived the design of his celebrated Wind and Current Charts. He also began at this time to write papers for the American Journal of Science which attracted much attention, and on his return he published a Treatise on Navigation which was made a text-book for the pupils of the Naval Academy at Annapolis.

In 1842 Lieutenant Maury was placed in charge of the Depot of Charts and Instruments at Washington, which afterwards became the National Observatory and Hydrographic Office. Here he devoted his attention to collecting and converting into systematic tables the valuable data contained in the old log-books of the United States warships, which he found stowed away as so much rubbish, and which had narrowly escaped being sold for junk. At the same time he presented a paper to the National Institute, recommending that all merchant ships be provided with charts of sailing directions, “on which should be daily registered all observable facts relating to the winds, currents, and other phenomena of importance and interest, for the foundation of a true theory of the winds.”

A general use of these charts would have constituted one of the greatest exploring expeditions ever devised, but for a time it met with much opposition. Lieutenant Maury’s first convert was Captain Jackson of the Baltimore ship D. C. Wright, trading to Rio Janeiro, who made rapid voyages with the aid of the Wind and Current Charts furnished by Lieutenant Maury. Soon there were many followers among American sea-captains, who gave their earnest co-operation and received great benefits in return, since all who kept Maury’s Log, as it was called, were entitled to a copy of the Sailing Directions.

In 1856 the captains and officers of a fleet of no less than a thousand merchant ships, sailing under the United States flag upon every sea and ocean, were recording daily and almost hourly observations of the winds and currents. Under the British flag were to be counted the whole Navy of Great Britain and over one hundred merchantmen; under the flag of Holland, two hundred and twenty-five merchant ships and those of the Royal Navy. Besides these there were the ships of France, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Belgium, Prussia, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Russia, Chili, Bremen, and Hamburg, all co-operating and assisting this great scientist in his noble work.

Maury’s Physical Geography of the Sea (1853), the first work of the kind which appeared, ran through twenty editions and was translated into French, Dutch, Swedish, Spanish, and Italian. This book treats of the clouds, winds, and currents of the ocean in a scientific yet attractive manner, dispelling the last of the sea myths which for ages had been the delight of poets and the terror of sailors, and in their stead relating a story of scientific discovery of greater wonder and beauty than any fable.

Maury’s researches had, however, a very practical side to them. Hunt’s Merchants’ Magazine for

May, 1854, states that on the outward passages alone from New York to California, Australia, and Rio Janeiro, American ships, through the use of Maury’s Sailing Directions, were saving in time the sum of $2,250,000 per annum, and it is probable that could an estimate have been made of the saving in time to all of the ships using the Sailing Directions, the total amount must have considerably exceeded $10,000,000 per annum.

It should be remembered that this result had been accomplished without expenditure of money, beyond the moderate salaries of Maury and his staff of assistants, and the insignificant cost of printing the blank log-books, charts, and sailing directions.

Sea-captains of all nations regarded Lieutenant Maury as a wise counsellor and faithful friend, while France, Holland, Sweden, Spain, Italy, Russia, Prussia, Austria, Portugal, and Sardinia, all either conferred upon him orders of knighthood or struck medals in his honor.

In 1861, Lieutenant Maury resigned the office of Chief Superintendent of the National Observatory and Hydrographic Office, deeming it his duty as a Virginian to take the side of his State at the outbreak of the Civil War. Upon this occasion he received letters of invitation from the Grand Duke Constantine offering him residence in Russia and every facility for continuing his scientific researches. A similar offer was made by Prince Napoleon on behalf of France, and also by the Archduke Maximilian of Austria. In 1866 a pecuniary testimonial was presented to Lieutenant Maury at Willis’s Rooms, London, where he was entertained by English naval officers and scientific men of the highest distinction, Sir John Parkington being chairman. England, France, Russia, and Holland contributed 3000 guineas, a substantial token of their esteem and gratitude for his labors in the service of mankind.

On one occasion Secretary of the Navy, Graham, wrote to Lieutenant Maury as follows:

“Indeed, I doubt whether the triumphs of navigation and the knowledge of the sea, achieved under your superintendence of the Observatory, will not contribute as much to an effective Naval Service and to the national fame as the brilliant trophies of our arms.”

Maury died in 1873, in his sixty-seventh year, an American scientist whose life was devoted to discovering the secrets of the sea, and to the welfare of seamen, irrespective of rank or nationality. In lamenting his death, the Senate of Virginia closed its resolutions with this eulogy:

“An honor to Virginia, an honor to America, and an honor to civilization, and in gratefully recognizing this we do but honor ourselves.”

CHAPTER X

CALIFORNIA CLIPPERS OF 1851 AND THEIR COMMANDERS—A DAY ON BOARD THE “WITCH OF THE WAVE”

Thirty-one California clippers were launched during the year 1851, and almost all the large ship-yards along the Atlantic seaboard were represented by one or more. Donald McKay built the Flying Cloud, Flying Fish, and Staffordshire; William H. Webb, the Challenge, Invincible, Comet, Gazelle, and Sword-Fish; Fernald and Pettigrew, of Portsmouth, the Typhoon; Jacob A. Westervelt & Sons, the Hornet and N. B. Palmer; George Raynes, the Wild Pigeon and Witch of the Wave; Smith & Co., of Hoboken, the Hurricane; Perrin, Patterson & Stack, of Williamsburg, the Ino; Briggs Bros., of South Boston, the Northern Light and Southern Cross; Hood & Co., of Somerset, the Raven; J. O. Curtis, of Medford, the Shooting Star; J. Williams, the Tornado, Isaac Taylor, of Medford, the Syren; Trufant & Drummond, of Bath, the Monsoon, and Jacob Bell, the Trade-Wind.

It would be impossible to name the handsomest of these ships, for while they were all of the same general design, each possessed her special type of beauty; and beauty, as we all know, is elusive, depending largely on fashion and individual taste. In order to attract the favorable attention of shippers and to secure the highest rates of freight, it was necessary that these ships should be handsome as well as swift. Ship-owners were content to spend large sums of money, not only upon refined decoration, which was but a small portion of the expense, but also in carefully selected woods, such as India teak and Spanish mahogany for deck fittings, and in the finest shipwright’s and joiner’s work about the decks, which were marvels of neatness and finish.

Ship-builders certainly had every incentive to exercise their best skill upon these vessels; they received pretty much their own prices for building them, and each ship, as she sailed out upon the ocean, held in her keeping the reputation of her builder, to whom a quick passage meant fame and fortune. Six of the clipper ships launched in 1851, the Flying Cloud, Comet, Sword-Fish, Witch of the Wave, Ino, and Northern Light, established speed records that have not yet been broken, and as time rolls on, the probability that they ever will be, becomes less and less.

The Flying Cloud was originally contracted for by Enoch Train, the good friend of Donald McKay, but while on the stocks she was sold to Grinnell, Minturn & Co., under whose flag she sailed for a number of years. Mr. Train used to say that there were few things in his life that he regretted more than parting with this ship. She was 1783 tons register, and measured: length 225 feet, breadth 40 feet 8 inches, depth 21 feet 6 inches, with 20 inches dead-rise at half floor. Her main-yard was 82 feet and her mainmast 88 feet in length, and like all the large clippers of her day, she carried three standing skysail yards; royal, topgallant and topmast studdingsails at the fore and main, square lower studdingsails with swinging booms at the fore; single topsail yards, with four reef bands in the topsails; single reefs in the topgallant sails, and topsail and topgallant bowlines.

She was commanded by Captain Josiah Perkins Creesy, who was born at Marblehead in 1814. Like most boys who were brought up along the coast of Massachusetts Bay, he began his career by being skipper and all hands of a borrowed thirteen-foot dory, with the usual leg-o’-mutton sail, and steered by an oar over her lee gunwale. In these dories water was carried in a strong earthen jug with a stout handle to which a tin drinking-cup was usually attached, while a wooden dinner-pail, such as the Gloucester fishermen used in those days, contained provisions. When the rode line was coiled down clear with the killick stowed away forward, and the dinner-pail, wooden bailer, and water jug had been made fast with a lanyard to the becket in the stern sheets, the famous Cape Ann dory was about ready for sea.

Joe Creesy was a genuine boy, large and strong for his age, freckled, good-tempered, and fond of rowing, sailing, and fishing. When he got to be thirteen or fourteen years old, he used to get some one to lend him a dory, and in this, during his summer vacation, he would make short cruises to Beverly and sometimes to the neighboring port of Salem. Here he would loiter about the wharves, watching an Indiaman discharge her fragrant cargo, or perhaps some ship fitting out for another voyage to India or China; and he would gaze up in wonder and admiration at the long tapering masts, with their lofty yards and studdingsail booms, and what appeared to him to be a labyrinth of blocks and slender threads. The ships’ figureheads, especially those representing warriors and wild animals, pleased Joe mightily, and the spare spars, gratings, capstans, boats, guns, and shining brass work, all delighted his heart. Occasionally he would behold a sea-captain who had really sailed to Calcutta and Canton, and the bronzed mariner was to him a being quite apart from other mortals.

At that time Salem retained much of the spicy, maritime flavor of the olden days, and these pleasant summer cruises to the old seaport naturally captivated the boy’s imagination, until he yearned for the time when he, too, might stand upon the quarter-deck in command of a noble ship. It would, of course, have been sinful to keep a boy like this on land, so he was permitted to follow his inclination and ship before the mast on board of a vessel bound for the East Indies. He advanced steadily through all the grades on shipboard, and became a captain at twenty-three.

When Captain Creesy was appointed to command the Flying Cloud, he was well known in New York, as he had commanded the ship Oneida, for a number of years in the China and East India trade, and bore a high reputation among ship-owners and underwriters, many of whom were his personal friends and associates.

The Flying Fish was owned by Sampson & Tappan, who, with George B. Upton, were the leading Boston ship-owners of their day, and between them owned the largest and finest clipper ships belonging to that port. These firms were composed of men in the prime of life, who enjoyed owning fast and handsome vessels. They cared for nothing but the best in design, construction, and equipment, and fitted out their ships with spare gear, stores, and provisions upon a most generous scale. The Flying Fish was 1505 tons register and measured: length 198 feet 6 inches, breadth 38 feet 2 inches, depth 22 feet, with 25 inches dead-rise at half floor. Her commander, Captain Edward Nickels, had sailed out of Boston for a number of years in command of the ship John Quincy Adams, and was a fine seaman and navigator. He was fond of entertaining his friends while in home and foreign ports, and his jolly little lunches and dinners were regarded as models of refined hospitality on shipboard. Commander John A. H. Nickels, U. S. N., is a son of Captain Edward Nickels.

Mr. Webb’s Challenge, a still larger merchantman than had yet been constructed, was regarded with pride by the shipping men of New York. The Challenge registered 2006 tons, and measured: length 230 feet 6 inches, breadth 43 feet 6 inches, depth 27 feet 6 inches, with 42 inches dead-rise at half floor. Her mainmast was 97 feet and mainyard 90 feet in length, and the lower studdingsail booms were 60 feet long; with square yards and lower studdingsails set, the distance from boom end to boom end was 160 feet. She carried 12,780 running yards of cotton canvas, which was woven especially for her by the Colt Manufacturing Company. Her mainsail measured: 80 feet on the head, 100 feet on the foot, with a drop of 47 feet 3 inches, and 49 feet 6 inches on the leach. She had four reefs in her topsails, and single reefs in her topgallant sails, and carried skysails, studdingsails, and ringtail. She was owned by N. L. & G. Griswold, of New York, and was commanded by Captain Robert H. Waterman, late of the Sea Witch.

The Invincible, owned by J. W. Phillips and others, of New York, was 1767 tons register, and measured: length 221 feet, breadth 41 feet 6 inches, depth 24 feet 10 inches. She was commanded by Captain H. W. Johnson, a gentleman who possessed a merry wit and a vivid imagination. Some of his experiences by land and sea, as related by himself, were certainly startling, and he told them with a minuteness of detail and an earnestness of manner that carried conviction equal to the most realistic illusions of the drama. There was one story about a mutiny on board the British brig Diadem, of which vessel Johnson said he was second mate. This craft carried a Lascar crew, and was in the Bay of Bengal, bound from Calcutta to Hong-kong with a cargo of opium, when a mutiny broke out in which all hands took part with such ferocious valor that the second mate and the serang, both badly wounded, were the only survivors.

The listeners are shown the dead bodies of Europeans and Asiatics, lying about the blood-stained deck under the fierce rays of the southern sun, and we breathe the tainted air, while chattering cormorants and screeching fishhawks tear the thin clothing of the corpses into shreds and fight with claw and beak over the decaying flesh. Johnson and the serang, so widely separated by blood, language, and religion, now united by a bond of common suffering, help each other to crawl into the caboose for shelter from the heat and from the birds of prey. Now we hear the gentle chafing of the gear aloft, and the lazy slatting of the sails, as the brig rolls upon the long, glassy swell; we see the sun sink beyond the ocean’s rim in a glory of gold and purple that illumines the zenith and turns the sea into a lake of fire; and we feel the benediction of the cool twilight and whispering breeze.

In the silence of the night, the two men, weak from loss of blood, drag themselves aft to the deserted cabin; Johnson lowers himself down the companion and gropes his way to the pantry, where he finds food to share with his companion. In the captain’s cabin he finds a decanter of brandy and a tumbler in the rack at the foot of the berth; he fills the glass and pours the spirit down his parched throat to brace his shattered nerves, then fills the glass again and takes it to the serang, but the faithful follower of Mahomet refuses to lift it to his burning lips. We live with them as they work their little vessel back to the muddy waters of the Hooghly and sight a pilot brig lying at anchor on her station, and their joy is ours when the pilot, with his leadsman, servant, and boat’s crew, comes on board. Again these unfortunate men, haggard and still suffering from their wounds, are being tried in an Anglo-Indian Court of Justice under a charge of murder on the high seas, and we hear the judge pronounce their solemn sentence of death.

The scenes to which I have referred were so real that it seemed as if Johnson, while describing them, must have believed this story himself, and it was interesting to note the effect upon those who heard it for the first time, when, after giving a circumstantial account of the miraculous escape of the serang and himself from the Calcutta prison during the night before they were to be hanged, he would cheerfully remark, “Well, now, I call that a pretty good yarn to spin out of nothing.” Then some one, perhaps a lady, might say, “Why, Captain Johnson, is it not true?” and he would smile pleasantly and reply, “True? Why bless your soul, I never heard of a brig called the Diadem, and never was in Calcutta in my life.” He had a number of these stories, and in China we never tired of listening to them.

Captain Johnson was an uncommonly able man and a most agreeable companion. He remained in command of the Invincible for several years, and in the early sixties he took in succession three frail wooden side-wheel river steamboats, the Fire Dart, Fire Cracker, and Fire Queen, from New York round the Cape of Good Hope to China, with no accident or mishap—a remarkable achievement. In 1866, Captain Johnson was the navigator, but not in command, of the yacht Vesta in her race with the Henrietta and Fleetwing across the Atlantic.

The Comet was 1836 tons register, and measured: length 229 feet, breadth 42 feet, depth 22 feet 8 inches. She was owned by Bucklin & Crane, of New York, and was commanded by Captain E. C. Gardner, late of the Celestial, in whose hands she gained a high reputation for speed.

The Sword-Fish was owned by Barclay & Livingston, of New York, and was 1036 tons register; length 169 feet 6 inches, breadth 36 feet 6 inches, depth 20 feet. Although not so extremely sharp as the larger ships built by Mr. Webb during that year, she was quite as handsome, and while commanded by Captain Babcock she eclipsed them all in speed.

Captain David Sherman Babcock, brother-in-law of Captain N. B. Palmer, was born at Stonington in 1822, and came of a distinguished family, his father being Major Paul Babcock and his grandfather Colonel Harry Babcock of Revolutionary fame. He received the usual New England school education of those days, which appears to have been a sufficient equipment for some of the most useful men that the United States has yet produced.

As a boy David developed a strong desire for a seafaring life, which cannot be wondered at, as at that period Stonington and the neighboring town of Mystic were flourishing seaports, whose ships sailed to every quarter of the globe, and whose jovial mariners kept the social atmosphere well charged with shadowy visions of strange lands, ancient temples, pagodas, palms, and coral isles lying in distant tropical seas. The departure of a ship with colors flying, the crisp, incisive orders of her captain and mates, and the clomp, clomp, clomp, of the windlass pawl, the songs of the sailors heaving up anchor, the hum of the running gear as it rendered through the blocks, and the music of their straining sheaves to the last long pulls on sheets and halliards, were a more potent means of recruiting bright, young boys, soon to become mates and captains of American ships, than all the press-gangs that were ever heard of.

So it came about that young Babcock, at the age of sixteen, was allowed to ship as boy before the mast with Captain Nat Palmer on board the Hibernia, and later he sailed again with Captain Palmer as an officer on board the Garrick. After making voyages to India and China on board of various ships, he was appointed at the age of twenty-five to command the ship Charlestown on a voyage to Callao and Lima. In 1850, Captain Babcock married Charlotte, the youngest daughter of Joseph Noyes, of Stonington, and W. I. Babcock, the well-known naval architect and engineer, who first introduced the scientific construction of steel vessels on the Great Lakes, is their son.

The Typhoon was owned by D. & A. Kingsland, of New York, and was commanded by Captain Charles H. Salter, who was born at Portsmouth in 1824, and an ancestor of his, Captain John Salter, commanded a vessel in the European trade during Colonial times, and for generations the Salters had sailed out of Portsmouth in command of ships. Captain Charles Salter went to sea at an early age, and at twenty-two commanded the ship Venice and later the Samuel Badger.

The Typhoon was 1610 tons register, and measured: length 225 feet, breadth 41 feet 6 inches, depth 23 feet. She was fully rigged on the stocks and was launched with skysail-yards aloft and colors flying. Before loading for San Francisco she was sent by her owners to Liverpool and made the passage from Portsmouth during the month of March in 13 days, 10 hours from wharf to dock. She frequently ran 15½ knots by the log on this passage, her best day’s run being 346 miles. At Liverpool she attracted much attention, as she was not only the first American clipper, but also the largest merchant ship that had ever been seen at that port.

The N. B. Palmer was 1490 tons register, and measured: length 214 feet, breadth 39 feet, depth 22 feet. She was owned by A. A. Low & Brother, and was commanded by another brother, Captain Charles Porter Low. He was born at Salem in 1824, and when a child removed with his parents to Brooklyn. At any early age he manifested a decided liking for ships and the society of sailors, and much against the wishes of his parents, he determined to go to sea. In 1842 he shipped as boy before the mast on board of the Horatio, with Captain Howland and made the round voyage to China. He made a voyage to Liverpool with Captain Griswold in the Toronto as ordinary seaman, and was an able seaman on board the Courier to Rio Janeiro. He then sailed as third, second, and chief mate of the Houqua, with the brothers, Captain Nat, Alexander, and Theodore Palmer, and at the age of twenty-three took command of that ship. As we have seen, he also commanded the Samuel Russell on her first voyage to San Francisco.

The N. B. Palmer was perhaps the most famous ship built in the Westervelt yard. In China she was known as “the Yacht,” and with her nettings in the tops, brass guns, gold stripe, and her lavish entertainments on the Fourth of July and Washington’s Birthday, she well deserved the title. Her captain was a princely host, as well as a thorough seaman, and a fine navigator. A full-rigged model of the N. B. Palmer was exhibited at the Crystal Palace, London, in 1851, and attracted much attention as a fine example of the American clipper-ship type.

The Hurricane was owned by C. W. & H. Thomas, of New York, and registered 1607 tons. She had the reputation of being the sharpest ship ever built at or near New York, and she carried plenty of canvas, with Cunningham’s rolling topsails, being one of the first American vessels so fitted. Across the lower part of her foretopsail she carried her name painted in large black letters that could be read much further than any signals and looked very smart and shipshape. Her commander, Captain Samuel Very, was born at Salem in 1815, and was a son of John Crowninshield Very, a mariner who had sailed on many a brave Salem ship. Among other experiences, he was one of the survivors of a shipwreck in mid-ocean during the year 1810, when he was picked up by a passing vessel after twenty-three days in an open boat. Admiral Samuel W. Very, U. S. N., is a son of Captain Samuel Very, and was born at Liverpool while the Hurricane lay in the Mersey.

The Northern Light, of 1021 tons register, measured: length 180 feet, breadth 36 feet, depth 21 feet 6 inches. She was a very sharp ship below the water-line, with 40 inches dead-rise at half floor, and full, powerful lines above water and on deck. She was built by the Briggs Brothers at South Boston, and owned by James Huckins of Boston. Mr. Huckins was a jolly, kind-hearted gentleman whom every one liked. His house-flag was a white field, swallowtail, with a blue star in the centre, and when he took his two sons into partnership, he placed two exceedingly small blue stars in the upper and lower luff of the flag, as he remarked, “to represent their interest in the business.” This, however, was his joke, as he was most liberal in every way. After this ship had made her celebrated record passage from San Francisco to Boston, Mr. Huckins usually closed his discussions upon the speed of clipper ships by saying, “Well, anyway, none of them can beat my Northern Light.”

The Trade Wind measured: length 248 feet, breadth 40 feet, depth 25 feet, and was 2030 tons register, being 24 tons larger than the Challenge. Those two ships were the largest clippers that were ever built at or about New York, and with the exception of the Ocean Monarch, a packet ship of 2145 tons register, built by William H. Webb in 1856, were the largest sailing ships ever constructed at that port. The Trade Wind was an exceedingly sharp and handsome ship, and attracted a great deal of attention. It was estimated that more than thirty thousand persons gathered about Jacob Bell’s shipyard at the foot of Houston Street, East River, one bright morning in August of that year to see her launched. She was owned by W. Platt & Son, of Philadelphia, and was commanded by Captain W. H. Osgood, late of the ship Valparaiso.

The Nightingale, one of the most beautiful clippers launched in 1851, was not built for the California trade, but was originally intended for a yacht. This ship was constructed by Samuel Hanscom, at Portsmouth, with the intention of carrying passengers to the World’s Fair, held in London during that year, and was fitted with extensive and