The Stornoway was commanded by Captain Richard Robinson, and on her first voyage she made the passage from the Downs to Java Head in 80 days, to Hong-kong in 102 days, and from Hong-kong to London in 103 days. These were at that time the quickest passages between these ports that had ever been made by a British vessel.

In 1851 Alexander Hall & Co. built the China tea-clipper Chrysolite, of 471 tons, for Taylor & Potter of Liverpool; length 149 feet 3 inches, breadth 29 feet, depth 17 feet. As will be seen this vessel approached more nearly the proportions of the Race Horse, having 8 feet 5 inches less length than the Stornoway, with 3 feet 4 inches more breadth, and 8 inches less depth. She made her first passage from Liverpool to Canton, under the command of Captain Anthony Enright, in 102 days, and came home in 104 days. She also made the passage from Liverpool to Java Head in 80 days, her best day’s run being 320 miles.

The very keen rivalry between the British and American clipper ships engaged in the China trade at this time, seems to have been stimulating to the imagination. W. S. Lindsay, in his History of Merchant Shipping (vol. iii., p. 291), relates an interesting story of one of the early races, and as I wish to do the narrative full justice, I give it in Mr. Lindsay’s own words:

“Mr. T. C. Cowper, of Aberdeen, himself a member of a well-known ship-building firm in Aberdeen, who had spent some time in China at the period to which I refer, and to whom I am much indebted for the information connected with our struggles to maintain our position in that trade, gives the following graphic description of his voyage home in the Ganges, Captain Deas, belonging to Leith, one of the vessels we had sent forth after the repeal of our Navigation Laws, to compete with the Americans in that trade: ‘We loaded,’ he says, ‘new teas at Wampoa, and sailed on the first of September, 1851. Two of the fastest American clippers, the Flying Cloud and Bald Eagle, sailed two or three days after us. A great deal of excitement existed in China about the race, the American ships being the favorites. The southwest monsoon being strong, the Ganges made a rather long passage to Anjer, but when we arrived there we found that neither of our rivals had been reported as having passed. We arrived in the English Channel on the evening of the 16th of December. On the following morning at daylight we were off Portland, well inshore and under short sail, light winds from the northeast, and weather rather thick. About 8 A.M. the wind freshened and the haze cleared away, which showed two large and lofty ships two or three miles to windward of us. They proved to be our American friends, having their Stars and Stripes flying for a pilot. Captain Deas at once gave orders to hoist his signals for a pilot also, and as, by this time, several cutters were standing out from Weymouth, the Ganges, being farthest inshore got her pilot first on board. I said that I would land in the pilot-boat and go to London by rail, and would report the ship that night or next morning at Austin Friars. (She was consigned to my firm.) The breeze had considerably freshened before I got on board the pilot cutter, when the Ganges filled away on the port tack, and Captain Deas, contrary to his wont, for he was a very cautious man, crowded on all small sails. The Americans lost no time and were after him, and I had three hours’ view of as fine an ocean race as I can wish to see; the wind being dead ahead, the ships were making short tacks. The Ganges showed herself to be the most weatherly of the three; and the gain on every tack inshore was obvious, neither did she seem to carry way behind in fore reaching. She arrived off Dungeness six hours before the other two, and was in the London docks twenty-four hours before the first, and thirty-six hours before the last of her opponents.’”

It is always unpleasant to spoil a really good story, but in this instance I feel constrained to point out that the Flying Cloud arrived at San Francisco on August 31, 1851, after her famous passage of 89 days from New York; it is therefore difficult to understand how she could have sailed from Wampoa on the Canton River on or about September 1st of that year, as stated by Mr. Cowper; while the Bald Eagle was not launched until 1852.

On January 3, 1852, the Illustrated London News, which then, as now, had many readers in the United States, published a portrait of the Chrysolite accompanying an article in which it was stated that both the Chrysolite and the Stornoway had beaten the Oriental and the Surprise, and that the Chrysolite had completely beaten the Memnon during a race in the Gaspar Straits. This article excited a good deal of interest in the United States, and it caused the formation by a number of high-spirited young merchants and ship-owners at Boston of a society called the American Navigation Club, which consisted of Daniel C. Bacon, President; Thomas H. Perkins, John P. Cushing, William H. Bordman, John M. Forbes, Warren Delano, and Edward King. In due time they issued the following challenge, which was published in all the leading shipping papers of Great Britain in September, 1852, and was copied into Bell’s Life, at that period the great sporting publication of England:

A few weeks later, on October 10, 1852, the following comment appeared in Bell’s Life:

The London Daily News also published a leader in which it urged the importance to Great Britain of making good her claim to maritime supremacy by accepting the challenge and winning the race; but in spite of all that was said the challenge was not accepted. Had it been, Captain Dumaresq would have commanded the American ship, and Lieutenant Maury was to have prepared special wind and current charts for his assistance. As nearly all the American clippers had been constructed for the California trade, it is probable that for an important race of this nature, two ships would have been built especially for the China trade, and very likely by Donald McKay and Samuel Hall, as the Flying Cloud, Flying Fish, Stag-Hound, Game-Cock, and Surprise had already placed these two in the front rank of clipper ship builders. No reason was ever given for the non-acceptance of the challenge, though the inference seems obvious.

It would, however, be a mistake to suppose that the Stornoway and Chrysolite were not fast vessels; for they were probably the two fastest ships sailing under the British flag at that time, and were ably commanded, and on a China voyage, which is very different sailing from a San Francisco or Australian passage, would have given any ship afloat a run for her owner’s money. The fitful uncertainty of the monsoons in the China seas, with an occasional typhoon thrown in, has always rendered the voyages to and from China rather unsatisfactory tests of speed, and in this respect not to be compared with those to Australia or to San Francisco.

The Stornoway and Chrysolite were soon followed by other British clipper ships, among them the Abergeldie, of 600 tons register, built by Walter Hood & Co., of Aberdeen, in 1851. This vessel was named for an estate that adjoins Balmoral, at that time under a forty years’ lease to Prince Albert, and carried a figurehead of His Royal Highness in full Highland costume.

In 1852, Richard Green, of London, built the Challenger, of 699 tons. This ship, owned by W. S. Lindsay, of London, was constructed with the avowed purpose of beating the Challenge of New York. A comparison of the dimensions of this ship and those of the Sword-Fish, 1036 tons, is interesting.

The Challenger was commanded by Captain Killick, who made eight China voyages in her, the best passage home being 105 days. Although she was never directly matched with her American rival, they both took part in an informal race from China in 1852, while the challenge of the Navigation Club was pending. The passages of the seven vessels, four American and three British, were as follows:

It is only fair to state that the Witch of the Wave, commanded by Captain Millett, sailed from Canton, January 5th, in the height of the northeast monsoon, and made the run, remarkable even at that season of the year, of 7 days 12 hours from Canton to Java Head, while the three British clippers, Stornoway, Chrysolite, and Challenger, sailed later with a moderate monsoon, and the Challenge, Surprise, and Nightingale later still, when the monsoon was less favorable. The rate of freight this year was £8 per ton, the highest that was ever paid.

This race, if so it can be called, resulted in “win, tie, or wrangle” as it was claimed, for one reason or another, by every vessel engaged in it, and ended by Sampson & Tappan, of Boston, offering to match the Nightingale for £10,000 against any ship, British or American, for a race to China and back. The rivalry of the American clipper ships among themselves was as keen as with those of Great Britain, and this challenge was intended for the Navigation Club, of Boston, of which Sampson & Tappan were not members, and for New York as well, quite as much as for the British clippers; but it found no response from either side of the Atlantic.

The Nightingale was owned by Sampson & Tappan for a number of years, during which she made some exceedingly fast passages, under the command of Captain Samuel Mather. Among them were the passage from Portsmouth, England, to Shanghai, against the northeast monsoon, in 106 days in 1853; and during the year 1855 a passage from Shanghai to London in 91 days, and from Batavia Roads to London in 70 days, an average of 197 miles per day, her best day’s run being 336 miles.

The Surprise proved one of the most successful American clippers in the China trade. After her first voyage she was for a number of years commanded by the captains Charles Ranlett, father and son, and in their hands made many fine passages—she made eleven consecutive passages from China to New York in 89 days or less, six from Hong-kong, and five from Shanghai, the best being 81 days from Shanghai, in 1857. Among other fast passages from Canton to New York may be mentioned those of the Stag-Hound 85, 91, and 92 days; Flying Cloud, 94 and 96 days; N. B. Palmer, 84 days; Comet, Panama, and Hurricane, each 99 days; Sword-Fish, 80 days; Sea Serpent, 88 days; Vancouver, 96 days; Mandarin, 89 days; but I am unable to find that Captain Waterman’s passage of 77 days in the Sea Witch in 1848, and 78 days in the Natchez in 1845, from Canton to New York, have ever been beaten. In 1854 the Comet made a record passage of 84 days from Liverpool to Hong-kong, an average of 212 miles per day, and in the same year the Typhoon made the run from the Lizard to Calcutta in 80 days.

In Great Britain the Cairngorm, of 1250 tons register, was built in 1853 by Alexander Hall & Co., and owned by Jardine, Matheson Co. Between 1853 and 1856 came the Crest of the Wave, Norma, Flying Dragon, Formosa, and Spirit of the Age, built by John Pile of Sunderland, and the Lord of the Isles (iron) by John Scott & Co., of Greenock. The ship last named registered 770 tons, measured: length 190 feet 9 inches, breadth 27 feet 8 inches, depth 18 feet 5 inches, and was an extremely sharp and handsome, though a very wet ship. It used to be said that Captain Maxton, her commander, drove her into one side of a sea and out the other; at all events, she was generally known among sailormen as the “Diving Bell.”

The British clippers of this type, which was extremely sharp and narrow, very nearly held their own against the American ships, and it is much to be regretted that there never was a fair and square race between them; for no British and American clipper ships ever sailed from China near enough together to afford a satisfactory test of speed.

The Lord of the Isles made the remarkable run from Shanghai to London in 1855 during the northeast monsoon of 87 days. In 1856 she sailed against the American clipper barque Maury, commanded by Captain Fletcher, from Foo-chow to London, both carrying new teas. In this year a premium of £1 per ton on the freight was offered for the first ship home during the season. The reward was offered without regard to the length of the passage, and was intended to encourage quick despatch in loading as well as fast sailing. The Lord of the Isles finished loading and sailed four days ahead of the Maury. Both vessels arrived in the Downs on the same morning and passed Gravesend within ten minutes of each other, the Maury leading, but Captain Maxton, having the smartest tug, succeeded in getting his ship first into dock, and so won the prize. The Maury was an exceedingly pretty barque of about 600 tons, built by Roosevelt & Joyce, and owned by A. A. Low & Brother. She was a very similar vessel to the barques Fairy, Penguin, and Benefactor, by the same builders, all engaged in the China trade. The Lord of the Isles was the only tea-clipper built of iron at that time. It was found that she sweated her tea cargoes, though otherwise they were delivered in excellent condition, and she was certainly a very fast vessel.

At this period (1853-1856) British iron ships, both sail and steam, were coming into favor for other trades, but their introduction had been slow. It is not easy at the present time to realize the difficulties attending the building of the first iron vessels. The rolling of iron plates to a uniform thickness was a matter requiring great care and skill, and a number of years elapsed before plates exceeded or even reached ten feet in length; then bending the frames and riveting the plates were difficult processes, only learned through much trial and experiment. In the early days, when an iron ship was completed, her owner’s troubles had only begun. Finding a composition that would prevent fouling and at the same time not destroy the plates; the adjustment of compasses, and devising effective means of ventilation, were all matters that required years of investigation and labor, to say nothing of the prejudice against iron vessels, which time and experience alone could overcome. Yet it was the skilful use of this stubborn metal in the construction of ships, together with wise legislation, that enabled Great Britain to regain her empire upon the sea.

CHAPTER XIII

CALIFORNIA CLIPPERS OF 1852—THE “SOVEREIGN OF THE SEAS”

The Sea Serpent, Eclipse, and Stag-Hound were in much the same condition aloft as the Flying Cloud, while the Witchcraft, on the voyage from San Francisco to Hong-kong had lost her main and mizzen masts with all sails and rigging attached, during a severe typhoon in the China Sea. The Tornado, commanded by Captain O. R. Mumford, bound from San Francisco to New York, had lost her bowsprit with the foremast and sprung her mainmast, when to the westward of Cape Horn. It required fourteen days to complete the jury rig at sea, after which she sailed to New York, a distance of 8000 miles, in 51 days. In acknowledgment of Captain Mumford’s services on this occasion, the New York, Sun, Astor, and Mercantile Insurance Companies presented him with a costly solid silver service, which was made by Ball, Black & Co., and exhibited in the window of their store on the corner of Murray Street and Broadway.

All of these ships were rerigged in New York with stouter spars and rigging than they originally carried, and much valuable experience was gained by sparmakers and riggers as to the requirements aloft of these large, powerful clippers, while their captains had at the same time become better acquainted with their peculiarities. The great difficulty was to get a large ship, say from 1600 to 2000 tons, that would sail fast in moderate winds. If she had canvas enough to drive her along in a light breeze, the chances were that in a gale something was bound to carry away aloft. The utmost skill and judgment were required to rig and to handle these heavily masted ships with wooden spars and hemp rigging.

The great race to San Francisco in 1852 was between the Sword-Fish of New York and the Flying Fish of Boston, both extreme clippers and built respectively by William H. Webb and Donald McKay. The Flying Fish sailed from Boston November 11, 1851, and on the same day the Sword-Fish passed Sandy Hook. Large sums were wagered upon the result. Captain Nickels of the Flying Fish and Captain Babcock of the Sword-Fish were both young and skilful commanders, and it was believed by their friends that each would send his ship along at her utmost speed. The Flying Fish made an excellent run of 19 days to the equator, leading the Sword-Fish by four days. From the equator to 50° S., the Flying Fish was 26 and the Sword-Fish 22 days, so that they passed that parallel on the same day. They raced round Cape Horn, part of the time side by side, the Flying Fish making the run from 50° S. in the Atlantic to 50° S. in the Pacific in 7 and the Sword-Fish in 8 days. From this point the Sword-Fish came up and steadily drew away. She made the run to the equator in 19 days, leading the Flying Fish by 3 days, and from the equator to San Francisco in 20 days, gaining on this stretch another 3 days, and arrived at San Francisco February 10, 1852, after a splendid passage of 90 days 16 hours from New York. The Flying Fish arrived on the 17th, or 98 days from Boston. The Sword-Fish was regarded by many as the fastest and handsomest ship built by William H. Webb; and her passage of 90 days, the second best ever made from New York to San Francisco, and within one day of the record, together with many other fast passages, among them her record run of 31 days from Shanghai to San Francisco in 1855, an average of 240 miles a day, certainly places her at or very near the head of the list of clippers launched from this famous yard.

Some of the other notable passages of this year were made by the Sovereign of the Seas and Comet, each 102 days; Sea Witch 108 days from New York; Staffordshire 101 days, and John Bertram and Shooting Star each 105 days from Boston.

The Flying Cloud, on this, her second voyage from New York, arrived at San Francisco September 6, 1852, 113 days from New York. She had, for her, a long run of 30 days to the equator; and when she was off the coast of Brazil, running before a light northerly wind under skysails and royal studdingsails, with the weather clew of her mainsail hauled up: as Captain Creesy was taking his noon observation, a large clipper ship was reported about six miles ahead, under the same canvas but almost becalmed. She was soon recognized by Captain Creesy and his officers as the N. B. Palmer. The Flying Cloud carried the breeze until about two o’clock, when she also ran into the calm, and signals were exchanged. Captain Low, of the N. B. Palmer, reported with pardonable pride, that he had sailed from New York eight days after the Flying Cloud, and had found good winds to the equator; indeed, a few days after sailing he had made 396 miles in twenty-four hours.

As may be imagined, Captain Creesy was somewhat chagrined, but at all events, here at last were the ships about whose speed there had been so much discussion, side by side on blue water, and soon there would be a chance to find out which was the faster of the two. As there was every indication of a southerly breeze, both ships took in their studdingsails, rigged in the booms, and got ready for the new wind, with a pull on sheets and halliards fore and aft. The Flying Cloud had a fine crew, and in after years Captain Creesy in describing this race said that, “They worked like one man, and that man a hero.”

At about four o’clock there was a faint southerly air with a few cat’s-paws, and soon the breeze came up from the south in a dark-blue line across the horizon. Both ships felt it at the same moment, and braced their yards on the starboard tack sharp by the wind, which soon freshened to a fine whole-sail breeze. The Flying Cloud now began to draw away. At daylight the next morning, the N. B. Palmer was hull down to leeward, and by four o’clock in the afternoon was no longer in sight. Both ships had strong westerly gales off Cape Horn, and the Flying Cloud led her rival into San Francisco by twenty-three days.

It is only fair to say, however, that the N. B. Palmer lost five days through putting into Valparaiso to land two of her crew, and as it turned out, to ship seventeen men to replace deserters. One of the two men landed had shot and wounded the mate, and the other, known as “Doublin Jack,” had knocked the second mate down with a handspike. Captain Low put both these men in irons, triced them up in the mizzen rigging, and gave them each four dozen lashes of ratline stuff, which they had well earned. Captain R. B. Forbes, one of the most humane and kind-hearted of men, declared in an address before the Boston Marine Society in 1854, that he regarded “the abolition of the power of flogging refractory seamen as having been injudicious”; and I think that most men who had experience in handling the crews of merchant ships on the high seas in those days will be inclined to agree with him.

The demand for new clipper ships had by no means abated in 1852, and thirty-three California clippers were launched in this year. Donald McKay built the Sovereign of the Seas, Bald Eagle, and Westward Ho; William H. Webb, the Flying Dutchman; Samuel Hall, the Polynesia, John Gilpin, Flying Childers, and Wizard; Jacob A. Westervelt, the Golden City, Golden State, and Contest; Jacob Bell, the Messenger and Jacob Bell; Paul Curtis, the Golden West, Queen of the Seas, Cleopatra, and Radiant; J. O. Curtis, the Phantom and Whirlwind; Jabez Williams, the Simoon; R. E. Jackson, the Winged Racer; Fernald & Pettigrew, the Red Rover.

Undismayed by difficulties as to spars and rigging that beset the minds of other ship-builders, Donald McKay resolved in this year to build a still larger clipper than had yet appeared. This ship was the Sovereign of the Seas, of 2421 tons register, and when she was launched in June, 1852, the bells that had welcomed the New World and Stag-Hound as the largest merchant ships afloat, again rang out a joyous greeting to this noble clipper, as she glided smoothly and swiftly into the blue waters of Boston harbor.

The Sovereign of the Seas measured: length 258 feet, breadth 44 feet, depth 23 feet 6 inches, with 20 inches dead-rise at half floor. It is interesting to note that each one of Mr. McKay’s clippers had less dead-rise than her predecessor. The Stag-Hound had 40 inches dead-rise at half floor with slightly convex water-lines; the Flying Cloud and Staffordshire 30 inches with concave water-lines and shorter but sharper ends. The Sovereign of the Seas had the longest and sharpest ends of any vessel then built, and combined the grace and beauty of the smaller ships with immense strength and power to carry sail.

She had a crew of 105 men and boys, consisting of 4 mates, 2 boatswains, 2 carpenters, 2 sail-makers, 3 stewards, 2 cooks, 80 able seamen, and 10 boys before the mast. She was commanded by Captain Lauchlan McKay, who was born at Shelburne, Nova Scotia, in 1811, being one year younger than his brother Donald. Like him, he went to New York, served an apprenticeship there with Isaac Webb, and after becoming a master ship-wright, was appointed carpenter of the U. S. frigate Constellation, in which he served four years. Admiral Farragut was a young lieutenant on board this ship at the same time. In 1839 Captain McKay published a work on naval architecture, and soon after, in company with his brother Hugh, opened a shipyard at Boston. Here they did repairing, and in 1846 built the bark Odd Fellow, in which Lauchlan sailed as captain. In 1848 he commanded the ship Jenny Lind, and made some excellent passages in her. When he took command of the Sovereign of the Seas, Captain McKay was in his forty-first year, and of gigantic build and strength.

The Sovereign of the Seas sailed from New York for San Francisco, August 4, 1852, a poor season of the year for a rapid run to the equator, but she crossed 25 days out from Sandy Hook, making a run which had never been bettered in the month of August, and only twice equalled—once by the Raven from Boston in 1851 and once by the Hurricane from New York in 1853. She was 23 days from the equator to 50° S., and 9 days from 50° S. in the Atlantic to the same parallel in the Pacific. After rounding Cape Horn, she carried away her fore-and maintopmasts and foreyard, and it required fourteen days to rerig her, during which time she was kept on her course, and made the run from 50° S. to the equator in the remarkable time, considering her disabled condition, of 29 days. She went thence to San Francisco in 17 days, which is the record for the month of November, and her total run from New York to San Francisco was 103 days.

Had the Sovereign of the Seas not been dismasted, it is reasonable to suppose that she would have equalled the fastest run from 50° S. to the equator in the month of October, which is 19 days, made by the Ocean Telegraph in 1855. This would have reduced her passage to 93 days; still, as it stands, her passage of 103 days has never been equalled by a vessel sailing from New York for San Francisco in the month of August. Captain McKay received much credit for rerigging his ship at sea and not putting into Valparaiso, and was presented with a very beautiful silver dinner service by the New York Board of Marine Underwriters.

This was the only passage made by the Sovereign of the Seas between New York and San Francisco. She carried on this voyage 2950 tons of cargo, and her freight amounted to $84,000; a portion of the

cargo, consisting of flour, sold in San Francisco at $44 per barrel.

She cleared from San Francisco in ballast for Honolulu, and there loaded a cargo, or rather several cargoes, of sperm oil which had been landed by American whale-ships in the Pacific, and sailed for New York, February 13, 1853. She had light and variable winds to the equator, her day’s runs ranging from 80 to 302 miles, and she made this stretch from Honolulu in 8 days. On February 27th, she was off the Navigator or Samoan Islands, and one cannot help thinking of the delight it would have given Robert Louis Stevenson if he could have looked upon this giant clipper flying southward under her white cloud of canvas, and with what magic words he would have made her name immortal.

On March 4th, the Sovereign of the Seas sprung her foretopmast, and although it was fished on the 6th, it was a source of anxiety for the remainder of the passage, and Captain McKay, mindful of his recent experience in these seas, carried sail with a considerable caution. Nothing of special interest occurred until March 15th, when the first strong westerly gales were felt, and a series of remarkable day’s runs was begun. Up to noon on March 16th, she had sailed from her position at noon the day before, 396 miles; on the 17th, 311 miles; on the 18th, 411 miles, and on the 19th, 360 miles, a total of 1478 miles in four days. During these four days, she made 34° 43′ of longitude eastward, which with the difference in time gives an average of 15½ knots, or an average of a fraction over 378 miles for each twenty-four hours. In the 11 days from March 10th to the 21st, she made the remarkable run of 3562 miles, and as she made during this time 82° 24′ of longitude, her average allowing for difference in time, was 13¾ knots, or 330 miles each twenty-four hours.

During her great run on the 18th of 411 miles, she made 10° 30′ of longitude, which reduced her sea day to 23 hours 18 minutes, and shows an average speed of 17⅔ knots, or 424 miles in twenty-four hours. On this day her log records: “Strong northwest breezes and rough sea.” It seems extremely improbable that she could have maintained uniform speed of 17⅔ knots throughout the twenty-four hours, but at times her speed probably slackened to 15 or 16 knots. If this supposition is correct, it follows that her speed must at times have exceeded 17⅔ knots in order to account for this average. In the absence of any data on this point, which is much to be regretted, it seems probable that she must have sailed at a speed of not less than 19 knots during a portion of these twenty-four hours, and perhaps 20 knots. After rounding Cape Horn she had light and moderate winds, her best day’s run being only 286 miles, and she arrived off Sandy Hook May 6, 1853, after a passage of 82 days from Honolulu.

She sailed again from New York for Liverpool, June 18th, passing Sandy Hook at 6:30 P.M., sighted Cape Race in Newfoundland at 6 A.M. on the 24th, was off Cape Clear in Ireland at 6 A.M. on June 30th, took a pilot at 2 P.M. July 2d, and anchored in the Mersey at 10:30 P.M. that day, having made the entire run from dock to anchorage in 13 days 22 hours and 50 minutes. This must be regarded as a most remarkable passage for the season, and has never been equalled by a sailing vessel during the month of June. Her best day’s run was on June 28th, 344 miles, by the wind, under single-reefed topsails, and on the 30th, 340 miles with skysails and royal studdingsails set. The Cunard S.S. Canada sailed from Boston on the same day that the Sovereign of the Seas sailed from New York, and a comparison of their logs published at the time shows that in five days, June 25-30th, the ship outsailed the steamer by 325 miles, and that the best run of the Canada during this passage was only 306 miles.

On this voyage her builder, Donald McKay, was a passenger on board the Sovereign of the Seas, and he passed most of his waking moments on deck, watching her movement through the water and observing the various strains on her spars and rigging. When he returned home, Enoch Train asked him what he thought of the ship, and Mr. McKay replied, “Well, she appears to be a pretty good ship, but I think I can build one to beat her”; and eventually he did so.

Mrs. Donald McKay sailed with her husband on this voyage and took a keen interest in everything that went on aboard ship. Although this was a summer passage, nevertheless, there was enough rough weather to bring out the splendid sea-going qualities of the vessel, and to Mrs. McKay, who, it is a pleasure to record, is still living, the vivid picture of this thoroughbred clipper wrestling with the winds and waves has always remained one of the exciting experiences of her life.

All of the American clippers made good passages home from China to Atlantic ports in 1852, though no record was broken. The run of the Shooting Star, 83 days from Canton to Boston, was the best of the year.

It was during the passage from Canton to New York in this year that Captain Creesy of the Flying Cloud had the unusual experience of perusing his own obituary in mid-ocean. It appears that after passing Java Head, and when his vessel was well across the Indian Ocean, she fell in with a ship outward bound, and in exchange for chickens, fruits, and vegetables from Anjer, received newspapers from New York, one of which contained the following somewhat startling announcement:

“Captain Creesy of the ship Flying Cloud.—It will be seen by the telegraph news in another column that this gallant sailor is no more. Two days after sailing from San Francisco, bound to China, he died, and the ship proceeded in charge of the mate; he was a native of Marblehead, and about forty-six years of age. For many years, he commanded the ship Oneida in the China trade, and was distinguished for the rapidity of his passages. In the Flying Cloud, he made the shortest passage on record to San Francisco, and eclipsed the finest and most costly merchant ship in the world,[9] and yet this crowning triumph of his life was attended with many disasters to his spars and sails; still, he pressed on, disdaining to make a port short of his destination. In every scene of a sailor’s life ‘with skill superior glowed his daring mind’—his dauntless soul ‘rose with the storm and all its dangers shared.’ But now he rests from his toils, regardless of his triumphs. Peace to his manes.”

It was found that this news originated in New Orleans, having been telegraphed from there to New York, and although no explanation of the blunder was ever made, it at all events relieved Captain Creesy of an annoying lawsuit. It will be remembered that in August, 1851, on the passage to San Francisco, his first officer was put off duty soon after rounding Cape Horn, “in consequence of his arrogating to himself the privilege of cutting up rigging.” This was a more serious offence than perhaps appears at first sight, as the Flying Cloud was badly crippled aloft, and was a long way from the nearest ship chandler’s store, while Captain Creesy needed every fathom of rope on board for preventers and lashings. In due time, the mate turned up in New York and got in tow of a philanthropic legal “gent,” who paid his board and lodging while awaiting the arrival of the Flying Cloud in order to prosecute Captain Creesy; but when they learned that he was supposed to be dead, the mate was shipped off to sea again, while the sea-lawyer friend lost no time in making fast to his three months’ advance.

CHAPTER XIV

CALIFORNIA CLIPPERS OF 1853

for two or three ships to be in company at sea, each striving to outsail the others. As we have seen, the Flying Fish won the race this year, and from one of the finest fleets of clippers that ever sailed from New York. The match between her and the John Gilpin was exceedingly close, and taken altogether was one of the best ever sailed upon this famous ocean course, the Derby of the sea. It was Samuel Hall against Donald McKay, Justin Doane against Edward Nickels, and all against the fleet.

The John Gilpin sailed out past Sandy Hook, October 29, 1852, followed by the Flying Fish on November 1st, and before the green Highlands of Neversink had disappeared below the horizon both ships were under a cloud of canvas. The Flying Fish fanned along through the doldrums and crossed the equator 21 days from Sandy Hook, leading the John Gilpin by one day. From the line to 50° S., the John Gilpin made the run in 23 days, passing the Flying Fish and getting a clear lead of two days. The Flying Fish did some fine sailing here; dashing through the Straits of Le Maire, she came up alongside the John Gilpin just off the Horn, and Nickels, ever famous for his jovial good-cheer, invited Doane to come aboard and dine with him, “which invitation,” the John Gilpin’s log-book ruefully records, “I was reluctantly obliged to decline.” This is perhaps the only instance of an invitation to dine out being received off Cape Horn. Few men have had the opportunity to extend such unique hospitality and certainly none could do so more heartily and gracefully than the famous commander of the Flying Fish. His vessel made the run from 50° S. in the Atlantic to 50° S. in the Pacific in 7 days, leading her rival by two days. From this point to the equator, the Flying Fish was 19 and the John Gilpin 20 days. From here the John Gilpin showed remarkable speed, making the run to San Francisco in 15 days, a total of 93 days, closely followed by the Flying Fish, 92 days from Sandy Hook. Their abstract logs are as follows:

When we reflect that this match was sailed over a course of some 15,000 miles, and that the difference of time was only twenty-four hours, one is impressed with the perfection to which the models of the vessels had been brought, as well as the exactness of the data relating to the winds and currents that had been gathered and reduced to a system by Maury, and with the skill of their captains, who were guided by his charts and sailing directions. The average difference of sailing between these two ships was less than six seconds per mile over the entire distance. Few races over thirty-mile courses have been sailed by yachts more evenly matched.

No racing yachts have ever been handled with greater care and skill than were these clipper ships over courses of thousands of miles. It was the custom for the captains to change their clothes at eight o’clock in the evening and at the same time in the morning, the exceptions being in thick and stormy weather, when they would not be out of their clothes perhaps for two or three days at a time. The officers and men of the watch below were expected to be ready to tumble out on deck at a moment’s notice to make or to shorten sail. The “old man” was very likely to appear on deck at any moment, night or day, which kept the officers in a high state of watchfulness. This was the only way in which these ships could be sailed and make the passages they did.

Another splendid match of this year, sailed to the eastward round the Horn, was that between the Northern Light and the Contest. The Contest was built by Jacob A. Westervelt and commanded by Captain William Brewster, of Stonington, and was one of the fastest ships owned by A. A. Low & Brother. She sailed from San Francisco for New York, March 12, 1853, followed by the Northern Light on the 13th, bound for Boston. Off Cape Horn, the Northern Light came up with and signalled the Contest, and from there led her home by three days, the Northern Light being 76 days 5 hours to Boston Light, while the Contest was 80 days to Sandy Hook. In 1854 the Comet made the passage from San Francisco to New York in 76 days, these being the record passages from San Francisco to Atlantic ports.

On this famous passage the Northern Light made the run from San Francisco to Cape Horn in 38 days, and was off Rio Janeiro in 52 days, thence to Boston Light in 24 days. Her best day’s run was 354 miles. She made the round voyage to San Francisco and return, including detention in port, in exactly seven months. Captain Hatch, her commander, was a thorough clipper ship captain, who never allowed his ship to suffer for want of canvas, and on this passage he brought his vessel across Massachusetts Bay before a fresh easterly breeze, carrying her ringtail, skysails, and studdingsails on both sides, alow and aloft, until she was off Boston Light—a superb marine picture, and one seldom seen by landsmen even in those days.

No more beautiful sight can be imagined than a morning at sea, with these magnificent vessels racing in mid-ocean, perhaps two or three of them in sight at once; the sun rising amid golden clouds; the dark blue sea flecked with glistening white caps; long, low black hulls cleaving a pathway of sparkling foam; towering masts, and yards covered with snowy canvas which bellies to the crisp morning breeze as if sculptured in marble; the officers alert and keen for the contest; the African cook showing his woolly head and grinning, good-natured face out through the weather door of the galley, while the wholesome odor of steaming coffee gladdens the hearts of officers and men. And after all, when has anything ever tasted half so refreshing as a tin pot of hot coffee, sweetened with molasses, under the lee of the weather bulwark, in the chill dawn of the morning watch?

The third mate walks over to the lee side and knocks the ashes out of his pipe against the rail, and as the sparks fly far to leeward, like falling stars among the foaming waves, he sings out, “Turn to there forward and wash down decks; boatswain, take a pair of those gulpins and rig the head pump; the rest of you get the gear triced up.” The watch, with sand, buckets of water, and brooms, barefooted and with trousers rolled up to their knees, begin to scrub and scrub and scrub. Then when the sun has dried out ropes and canvas, the gear is swayed up fore and aft, with watch tackles on the chain topsail sheets, and a hearty: