CALIFORNIA CLIPPER PASSAGES OF 1851
Each of the clippers had her devoted admirers, who gave tangible proof
of loyalty by investing money liberally in support of their belief in
her speed. At that period the merchants and ship-owners of Boston used
to meet “on ‘change” in front of the old Merchants’ Exchange in State
Street, and before going home to their comfortable two o’clock dinners,
these old-time gentlemen would lay many a quiet wager upon the _Northern
Light_, _Flying Fish_, _Witch of the Wave_, _Raven_, _John Bertram_,
_Shooting Star_, or _Game Cock_ as to their relative speed and the
length of their passages from Boston to San Francisco.
In New York the Astor House was the meeting-place of merchants,
ship-builders, and sea-captains, who carried on endless arguments
concerning the merits of the clipper ships, their builders, owners, and
captains, and discussed the latest shipping news with untiring
earnestness. These men knew whereof they spoke, for almost any evening
there was sufficient capital represented by ship-owners to pay for half
a dozen clippers, and the men were there also who could build and
navigate them. Occasionally an argument would reach a point of
animation where something had to be done, and one might hear a remark
very much like this: “No, no, Henry, I can’t do that, but I will lay
five dollars at one to three on the _Challenge_ against the fleet, bar
one, or the same even on the _Flying Cloud_ against the _N. B. Palmer_.”
These were pleasant evenings, gay with the clink of mugs and glasses and
the murmur of small talk and laughter rippling among wreaths of smoke
from fragrant Havanas, until, at a little before ten, Michael, the
venerable barkeeper would announce, “Gentlemen, I will take the last
orders of the evening; we close in ten minutes.”
The interest in clippers was not confined to seamen and capitalists, for
when the mail steamer from Aspinwall was reported toiling up the bay,
there would be a large number of persons patiently waiting on the wharf,
who were not expecting friends among the passengers or crew, but who had
come to hear the latest news, then five or six weeks old, of arrivals of
clipper ships at San Francisco.
The first clipper to arrive at San Francisco from New York in 1851 in
less than 110 days was the _Seaman_, a smart little Baltimore ship of
546 tons. She made a fine passage of 107 days, arriving on March 11th.
The second to arrive was the _Surprise_. A merchant of San Francisco
wagered heavily on her beating the passage of the _Sea Witch_--97
days--of the year before, and as the time limit grew near he began to
feel rather nervous. On the morning of her ninety-sixth day out, March
19th, he thought if the _Surprise_ was going to win his money for him
it was about time for her to do it, so he mounted his horse and rode
over to the North Beach to get a glimpse of her if she was in sight. He
found the weather thick outside and so returned, but he had not reached
his counting-room before the _Surprise_ had passed the Golden Gate. And
by noon, Captain Dumaresq was with his friends on shore, 96 days from
New York. The _Surprise_ had sailed 16,308 miles since leaving Sandy
Hook, and had reefed topsails but twice. It should not, however, be
supposed that she had not had plenty of wind, for it was usually blowing
hard when Captain Dumaresq began to think of taking in his
topgallantsails, to say nothing of reefing topsails. A list of her cargo
on this voyage filled a manifest twenty-five feet long, and her freight
amounted to the sum of $78,000.
The _Sea Serpent_ arrived on May 17th, after putting into Valparaiso for
repairs, as she had lost spars and sails off Cape Horn. She had made the
passage in 115 days, deducting her delay at Valparaiso. This was the
first of a series of disasters which befell the clippers that year, and
which proved pretty clearly that their power of carrying canvas had been
underestimated. It became quite evident that these ships could stand
stouter spars and rigging, and indeed required them.
The _Eclipse_, Captain Hamilton, also went into Valparaiso with the loss
of some of her spars and sails, and allowing for her loss of time in
port, made the passage from New York to San Francisco in 112 days,
arriving May 20th, with the remarkable run of 63 days from New York to
Valparaiso to her credit. Captain Hamilton was not only an accomplished
mariner, but a most delightful companion, and he had many friends in San
Francisco, some of whom gave a dinner at the Niantic Hotel in honor of
his arrival on this occasion. When the proper moment came, one of the
party proposed the health of Captain Hamilton, and this is the way he
did it:
“Gentlemen! I give you the shipper-clips--the clippy--sh--the,
gentlemen, I give you the--the slipper.” Here he paused, steadied
himself by the table edge, bowed with great dignity, and began again
very slowly: “Gentlemen!--I--give--you--the--ship--_E_--_clipse_, and
her gallant cap’n Hamilton,” and then with an
at-peace-with-all-the-world grin, this disciple of Silenus subsided.
The Niantic had a curious history, even for a San Francisco hotel. This
refuge for the traveller, or rather a portion of it, had originally been
the British ship _Niantic_ which arrived at Valparaiso from Liverpool
just as the California gold fever was at its height. She was bought by a
Chilean merchant and started for Panama, where she loaded a cargo of
tropical fruits and two hundred and forty-eight passengers, and arrived
at San Francisco, July 5, 1849. Most of the fruit had either been
devoured by the passengers or become so decayed that it was thrown
overboard, and as soon as the anchor was down, the captain and all hands
cleared out for the mines, leaving the ship to take care of herself.
After some months of neglect, she was bought by a real estate
speculator, who hauled her broadside to on the beach, at what was then
the foot of Clay Street, and turned her into a warehouse. By degrees the
old craft found herself embedded in some ten or twelve feet of sand and
mud at a considerable distance from the water-front, but she made more
money for her owner here than at any other time in her career, until one
of the periodical fires swept away her top sides. The rest of her hull,
which being below ground had escaped destruction, became the cellar of
the Niantic Hotel, erected over her remains, and had the reputation of
being the only tight and dry cellar in the neighborhood.
In the course of time the Niantic Hotel was torn down to make room for a
more substantial building, and upon clearing away the débris to secure a
more solid foundation, thirty-five baskets of champagne were discovered
hidden away among the floor timbers of the old hull, where they had
remained unmolested for some twenty-one years. So faithfully had the
wine been bottled and so dry had been its resting-place, that there was
not a speck of rust on the wires securing the corks, and the labels were
as fresh as the day they were put on, while the wine was found to have
retained much of its original sparkle and _bouquet_. It was the then
celebrated Jacquesson Fils brand, which at the time of its arrival might
easily have been sold for $25 a bottle. I am not sure that it did not
sell at nearly its former value, for almost every one in San Francisco
in 1870 needed at least one bottle with which to celebrate the
anniversary of his arrival “in the fall of Forty-nine or the spring of
Fifty,” and thirty-five baskets would seem a small allowance for that
vast and increasing multitude.
The _Stag-Hound_ arrived May 26th. She sailed from New York in January,
and when six days out in a heavy southeast gale, her maintopmast and
three topgallantmasts came down by the run. She was without a
maintopsail for nine days and without topgallantsails for twelve days;
nevertheless, she crossed the equator 21 days from Sandy Hook, arrived
at Valparaiso in 66 days under jury rig, and, allowing for her detention
there, reached San Francisco 107 days from New York. Captain Richardson
reported that she was a very fast ship in moderate breezes, while in
strong winds she frequently logged sixteen and seventeen knots, although
her best day’s run was only 358 miles.
The _Witchcraft_ arrived August 11th. She, too, had suffered aloft and
put into Valparaiso for spars and repairs, and, allowing for this delay,
she had made the passage from New York in 103 days. The _N. B. Palmer_
arrived August 21st in 108 days, and the _Flying Cloud_ on August 31st
in 89 days--a passage never surpassed and only twice equalled--once
three years later by the _Flying Cloud_ herself, and once in 1860 by the
_Andrew Jackson_.
The _Flying Cloud’s_ abstract log on this passage is as follows:
Sandy Hook to the equator 21 days.
Equator to 50° S. 25 “
50° S. in the Atlantic to 50° S. in Pacific 7 “
50° S. to the equator 17 “
Equator to San Francisco 19 “
--
Total 89 “
It was during this passage that the _Flying Cloud_ made her famous run
of 374 miles, while steering to the northward and westward under
topgallantsails, after rounding Cape Horn. This was the fastest day’s
run, under steam or sail, that had ever been made up to that time, and
exceeded by 42 miles the best day’s run that had ever been made by a
mail steamship on the Atlantic. A few extracts from her log will, I
think, be of interest:
“June 6th (three days out from New York). Lost main and mizen
topgallantmasts, and maintopsail yard.--June 7th. Sent up main and
mizen topgallantmasts and yards.--June 8th. Sent up maintopsail
yard.--June 14th. Discovered mainmast badly sprung about a foot
from the hounds, and fished it.--July 11th. Very severe thunder and
lightning, double reefed topsails, split fore and maintopmast stay
sails. At 1 P.M. discovered mainmast had sprung, sent down royal
and topgallant yards and studding sail booms off lower and topsail
yards to relieve strain.--July 13th. Let men out of irons in
consequence of wanting their services, with the understanding that
they would be taken care of on arriving at San Francisco. At 6
P.M., carried away the maintopsail tye and band round
mainmast.--July 23d. Cape Horn north five miles. The whole coast
covered with snow.--July 31st. Fresh breezes, fine weather, all
sail set. At 2 P.M. wind southeast. At 6 squally; in lower and
topgallant studding sails; 7, in royals; at 2 A.M. in foretopmast
studding sail. Latter part, strong gales and high sea running. Ship
very wet fore and aft. Distance run this day by observation is 374
miles. During the squalls 18 knots of line was not sufficient to
measure the rate of speed. Topgallantsails set.--August 3d. At 3
P.M. suspended first officer from duty, in consequence of his
arrogating to himself the privilege of cutting up rigging, contrary
to my orders, and long-continued neglect of duty.--August 25th.
Spoke barque _Amelia Packet_, 180 days from London for San
Francisco.--August 29th. Lost foretopgallant mast.--August 30th.
Sent up foretopgallant mast. Night strong and squally. Six A.M.
made South Farallones bearing northeast ½ east; took a pilot at 7;
anchored in San Francisco harbor at 11:30 A.M. after a passage of
89 days, 21 hours.”
An analysis of this remarkable log shows that during twenty-six
consecutive days the _Flying Cloud_ had sailed a distance of 5912 miles,
an average of 227 miles a day, or within a fraction of 9½ knots, and for
four consecutive days 284, 374, 334, 264--a total of 1256, or 314 miles
per day, an average speed of 13½ knots. This splendid passage of the
_Flying Cloud_ reduced by one quarter the clipper-ship record of 120
days made by the _Memnon_ two years before, and established a new record
that stands to-day.
This grand ocean exploit was celebrated in San Francisco with rejoicing,
as every American in the town felt, now that the voyage round Cape Horn
had been made in three months, that he was nearer to his old home in the
East; while in the Atlantic seaports the news was received with
enthusiasm, and was regarded by the press not only as a personal victory
for the owners, builder, and captain of the _Flying Cloud_, but as a
triumph of the United States upon the sea. One of the New York papers[6]
in the course of an editorial remarked: “Such a passage as this is more
than a local triumph, and inures to the reputation not alone of the
builder of the ship and her enterprising owners, but of the United
States. It is truly a national triumph, and points clearly and
unmistakably to the pre-eminence upon the ocean which awaits the United
States of America. The log of the _Flying Cloud_ is now before us. It is
the most wonderful record that pen ever indited, for rapid as was the
passage, it was performed under circumstances by no means the most
favorable.”
The _Challenge_ arrived October 29th, 108 days from New York--a fine
passage, certainly, but not what her friends had hoped or expected. She
had on this voyage a large but very poor crew--incompetent and
mutinous--indeed, some of them were among the most desperate characters
that ever sailed out of the port of New York. It was only after the ship
had passed Sandy Hook and the pilot had been discharged that Captain
Waterman began fully to realize what a gang of ruffians he had to deal
with. He seriously considered taking the ship back to New York for
another crew, and a less resolute man probably would have done so; but
he realized that it would mean a heavy expense to the owners, as each of
the crew had received three month’s advance wages, which would have to
be paid over again to another crew, besides other expenses and loss of
time and disappointment to the shippers of cargo, so he decided to
protect every one but himself and kept the ship on her course.
The crew of the _Challenge_ consisted of 56 men before the mast,
supposed to be able seamen, and 8 boys. Of the men in the forecastle
only two were Americans, the remainder representing most of the maritime
countries of Europe. So soon as Captain Waterman decided to continue the
voyage, he made his plans quickly. After giving some orders to Mr.
Douglas, his chief officer, he called all hands aft and manufactured a
speech in which, among other things he said that the men would find that
they were on board of a good comfortable ship, with plenty to eat and
very little work to do; but when the officers gave them orders they must
obey willingly and quickly; that he hoped none of them had brought
spirits or weapons on board, as such things were apt to make trouble at
sea. This camp-meeting discourse occupied perhaps fifteen or twenty
minutes, during which the mates, carpenter, sailmaker, and boatswain
were employed in the forecastle breaking open chests and boxes, emptying
bags, and gathering up bottles of rum, knuckle-dusters, slingshots,
bowie-knives, and pistols which they threw over the side. After the
watches were chosen, each man was made to lay his knife on the main
hatch, where the carpenter broke the point of the blade off square.
It was found that only six men among the crew could steer the ship
properly; these were made quartermasters and did nothing else during the
passage except to lend a hand making and taking in sail, Fully one half
of the crew who had shipped as able seamen were not sailormen at all,
but blacklegs of the vilest type, who had taken this means of getting to
the California gold mines. It also developed that many of the men had
contracted a loathsome disease, most difficult to cure at sea, and at
one time seventeen of the crew were laid up and off duty. Captain
Waterman had the sailroom turned into a sick bay, but although these men
received every care, five of them died, and eight were still in their
berths when the _Challenge_ arrived at San Francisco.
For some time after sailing from New York, Captain Waterman and his
officers were always armed when they came on deck, but after a while the
crew appeared to be in such good shape that this precaution gradually
became neglected, until, one morning off Rio Janeiro, while Captain
Waterman was taking his sights, he heard shouts for help from the main
deck. He at once laid down his sextant and hurried forward to find the
mate, Mr. Douglas, with his back to the port bulwark just abaft the main
rigging, defending himself with bare fists from four of the crew armed
with knives, who were attacking him. As Captain Waterman ran along the
main deck he pulled a heavy iron belaying pin out of the rail, and using
this with both hands as a club, he dealt a terrific blow on the skull of
each of the would-be assassins, which laid them out on deck--two of them
dead. Mr. Douglas had received no less than twelve wounds, some of them
of a serious nature; indeed, he barely escaped with his life. From that
time the officers always carried arms, and there was no further trouble
with the crew.
Off Cape Horn three men fell from aloft, one of whom was drowned while
two struck the deck and were killed. The bodies of the men who died were
sewn up in canvas with holystones at their feet, and were buried in the
sea. Captain Waterman read the funeral service over their remains, but
the ship was not hove to as the braces were never allowed to be started
except when absolutely necessary, owing to the difficulty and danger of
handling the yards with such an inferior crew. The bodies of the two men
who attempted to murder the chief officer were taken from where they
fell and lowered into the sea. Many years afterward Captain Waterman
told me that he could not bring himself to read the Christian burial
service over these corpses, but that he gave the crew permission to take
the bodies forward, and offered them canvas, holystones, and a
prayer-book with which to hold their own service, but none of the crew
would volunteer to bury these men.
The _Challenge_ had moderate winds the whole passage, excepting a
succession of westerly gales off Cape Horn, and with her wretched crew
besides, there was really no opportunity properly to test her speed. Her
best day’s run was only 336 miles, with the wind abeam and skysails set.
She was 55 days from Sandy Hook to Cape Horn, thence 34 days to the
equator in the Pacific, and 19 days from the equator to San Francisco.
The great wonder is, not that Captain Waterman made such a fine passage,
but that he succeeded in getting his ship to San Francisco at all.
Soon after the _Challenge_ rounded to and let go anchor, in San
Francisco Bay, she was boarded by a throng of crimps and runners who at
once took the crew and their dunnage ashore. There was nothing unusual
in this, for it happened nearly every day, captains and mates being
powerless to prevent it. A gang of longshoremen would then be sent
aboard at wages of from $3 to $5 an hour each, to heave up anchor, put
the ship alongside the wharf, stow sails and clear up the decks. As
these prosperous sons of toil were never in much of a hurry, it usually
required from four to five hours to finish up these jobs, and meant a
heavy expense to the ship-owner for work that should have been done by
the crew.
When the crew of the _Challenge_ got on shore, some of them had terrible
tales to tell about their hardships and privations during the voyage;
how they had been nearly starved to death; how some of the crew had
starved to death or been murdered, and their bodies hove overboard like
dead rats, and how six men had been shot from the mizzentopsail yard in
a gale of wind off Cape Horn. According to these blatant imposters, no
such floating hell as the _Challenge_ had ever before set sail upon the
ocean, and as for Captain Waterman, he was a blood-thirsty, inhuman
navigator, the like of whom had never been seen or heard of, since the
days when Noah put his ship ashore among the mountains of Ararat. All
this was, of course, profitable material for journalists, one impetuous
knight of the pen actually proposing that Captain Waterman should be
burned alive, until finally the publisher of this attack became
frightened for his own safety, as he had incited the most dangerous set
of men, perhaps, that ever existed in any seaport--ticket-of-leave from
Australia, cut-throats from New Mexico, and drainings from the social
gutters and cesspools of European ports.
At this moment San Francisco happened to be in one of the numerous
stages of reform through which that amazing city has passed. It had
recently emerged from a reign of lawlessness and mob rule under the
guidance of a Vigilance Committee, and while this admirable body of
citizens was not yet disbanded, it had in a measure relaxed its grasp
upon public affairs. Now, a number of the newly-converted thugs,
murderers, and outlaws of the town, whose necks had narrowly escaped the
hangman’s noose, formed themselves into a new “Vigilance Committee,” to
deal with Captain Waterman and the officers of the _Challenge_. These
outcasts, crafty and unscrupulous as they were, possessed neither the
courage nor the mental capacity to carry out their own plans. They
accordingly called a public meeting, held somewhere among the sandhills,
at which it was decided to “execute” Captain Waterman and his officers
“on sight,” and then burn or scuttle the vessel at her wharf. Naturally,
the real Vigilance Committee were the first to learn of these
proceedings, and at once took the captain and officers under their
protection, holding themselves in readiness to scatter the mob should
this measure become necessary.
The crowd that gathered at the sandhills consisted of two or three
hundred men who had lately been hunted from one end of San Francisco to
the
[Illustration: The “Challenge”]
other, and had prudently kept themselves stowed away in order to escape
the righteous wrath of the Vigilance Committee. One can scarcely
conceive anything more grimly grotesque than the spectacle of these
inexperienced reformers, in their red flannel shirts and black slouched
hats with pistols and bowie-knives stuck in their leather belts, and
trousers tucked into the tops of their cowhide boots, the odor of the
gin palace and dance-hall clinging to their unwashed skins and clothing,
as they wended their way to Pacific Wharf, where the _Challenge_ lay
moored, and demanded that Captain Waterman and his officers be delivered
over to them for purposes of justice.
As might have been expected, these gentlemen had vanished and no one but
a few members of the Committee knew where they were. So finding that
Captain John Land had been placed in command of the ship, the mob seized
this venerable seaman, and for more than an hour wrangled among
themselves as to whether they should shoot, drown, or hang him in place
of Captain Waterman. They, however, concluded to hold him as a hostage,
and walked their white-haired prisoner up to the office of Alsop & Co.,
the agents of the _Challenge_. By this time, the crowd had been
considerably augmented and numbered about two thousand men, who filled
the air of California Street with yells, curses, lewd jests, and ribald
songs. They again demanded from the agents that their intended victims
be given up, and six of the ringleaders forced their way with crowbars
and axes into the house of Alsop & Co. At this point the bell of the
Monumental Fire Engine House began to toll--the well-known signal that
called the Vigilance Committee to arms--and long before the Marshal had
finished reading the Riot Act, the mob had dispersed with alacrity.
Captain Waterman was not the man to submit quietly to such attacks upon
his character and conduct, and he at once offered to meet any charge
that might be brought against him before a proper legal tribunal. When
no one appeared, he demanded that a full investigation be made into the
facts of the voyage of the _Challenge_. It then appeared, from the
testimony of a portion of the crew, that a large number of the men who
had shipped in New York as able seamen were grossly incompetent and
desperately mutinous; that the food had been of the best, in fact, the
same quality of beef, pork, and flour that had been used in the cabin
had also been served to the crew without stint, and that no more
punishment had been inflicted by the officers than was necessary to
maintain proper discipline for the safety of the ship and her cargo.
It also appeared that from the time the ship sailed from New York until
the time of her arrival at San Francisco, Captain Waterman had never
been out of his clothes except to change them, and had never slept in
his berth, but had taken such rest as he could find upon the transom in
his chart-room near the companionway. He was commended for his skill and
courage in bringing his vessel safely into San Francisco without the
loss of a spar, sail, or piece of rigging. It is therefore humiliating
to record that neither the owners of the _Challenge_ nor their
underwriters, for both of whom Captain Waterman had saved thousands of
dollars, ever had the courtesy to make the slightest acknowledgment of
his services, although they were well aware of their obligation in this
matter. It is, however, some consolation to know that he asked and
needed nothing at their hands.
As we already have seen, Captain Waterman had taken the Pacific Mail
steamship _Northerner_ from New York to San Francisco in 1850, and fully
intended at that time to retire from the sea. He was then forty-two
years old, and had passed thirty-two years upon the ocean; he possessed
ample means, with a portion of which he bought four leagues of land in
Solano County, California, and it was only at the earnest solicitation
of N. L. & G. Griswold, the owners of the _Challenge_, that he consented
to take her from New York to San Francisco in this year. He was now free
to attend to his own affairs. Together with Captain A. A. Richie, he
founded the town of Fairfield, California. In 1852, he was appointed
Port Warden and Inspector of Hulls at the port of San Francisco, a
position he held for twenty-eight years. He then retired to his farm,
where he died in 1884, at the age of seventy-six. Probably no man in
California was more widely known or more highly respected.
One of the best ocean races of 1851 was that between the _Raven_,
Captain Henry; the _Typhoon_, Captain Salter, and the _Sea Witch_,
Captain Frazer. These clippers sailed for San Francisco nearly together:
the _Sea Witch_ passed out by Sandy Hook on August 1st, followed by the
_Typhoon_ on August 4th, while the _Raven_ passed Boston Light on
August 6th. All had able commanders, who carried Maury’s wind and
current charts to assist them. In this month of light and baffling
breezes a quick run to the equator was hardly to be expected, but these
clippers threaded their way across the calm belt of Cancer, ran down the
northeast trades, and drifted through the doldrums, with surprising
speed. The _Sea Witch_ still kept her lead at the equator, crossing on
August 30th, closely followed by the _Raven_ and the _Typhoon_, which
crossed together on the 31st, so that the _Raven_ had gained four and
the _Typhoon_ two days on their swift competitor. They all weathered
Cape St. Roque and stood away to the southward for a splendid dash of
over three thousand miles through the southeast trades and the strong
westerly winds further south, all crossing the parallel of 50° S. in the
same longitude, 64° W. The _Raven_ had gained another day on the _Sea
Witch_ and these two clippers were now side by side, with the _Typhoon_
only two days astern.
Here began one of the keenest races ever sailed upon the ocean. They all
stood to the southward with studdingsail booms and skysail yards sent
down from aloft, with extra lashings on the boats, spare spars, and
skylights, while all hands hardened their hearts for a thrash to
windward round Cape Horn. On this desolate ocean the clippers raced from
horizon to horizon in heavy westerly gales and a long, fierce, sweeping
head sea. For fourteen exciting days and nights, with single-reefed,
double-reefed, close-reefed topsails, reefs in and reefs out, their
keen, watchful captains made use of every lull and slant to drive their
ships to the westward of Cape Horn, across the great, broad-backed,
white-crested seas. The _Sea Witch_ and _Raven_ were having it out tack
for tack, sometimes one and then the other gaining an advantage, both
carrying sail to the utmost limit of prudence, lifting their long, sharp
bows to the wild, surging seas, the cold spray flying across their decks
and blue water swirling along their lee waists, each handled with
consummate skill, and not a spar carried away or rope parted. The
_Typhoon_ in hot pursuit, was pressing the two leaders and slowly
closing upon them, for her greater length and power helped her here.
Finally the _Sea Witch_ and _Raven_ emerged from this desperate contest
side by side, as they had entered it, both crossing latitude 50° S. in
the Pacific in fourteen days from the same parallel in the Atlantic. The
_Typhoon_ had now gained another day, and was within twenty-four hours’
sail of each.
Clear of Cape Horn they all went away fast to the northward, rushing
through the southeast trades with studdingsails, skysails, water-sails,
and ring-tails--every yard of canvass set that would draw. On this
stretch to the equator, the _Sea Witch_ fairly flew through the water,
and crossed in 22 days from 50° S., leading the _Raven_ 2 and the
_Typhoon_ 4 days. They now stood to the northward, close-hauled on the
starboard tack, for their final struggle. Here again length and power
counted in favor of the _Typhoon_, and she came up with the _Sea Witch_
and _Raven_, leading them both into port; the _Raven_, too, for the
first time fairly headed the _Sea Witch_. The _Typhoon_ glided through
the Golden Gate, November 18th, 106 days from Sandy Hook; the _Raven_,
November 19th, 105 days from Boston Light, and the _Sea Witch_, November
20th, 110 days from Sandy Hook. Here is a brief abstract from their
log-books:
_Raven_ _Typhoon_ _Sea Witch_
To the equator in the Atlantic
25 days 27 days 29 days.
From the equator to 50° S. 21 “ 23 “ 22 “
From 50° S. in the Atlantic
to 50° S. in the Pacific 14 “ 13 “ 14 “
From 50° S. to the equator 24 “ 25 “ 22 “
From the equator to the
Golden Gate 21 “ 18 “ 23 “
--- --- ---
Total 105 “ 106 “ 110 “
This was a great victory for the _Raven_, the only ship of her tonnage
that ever outsailed the _Sea Witch_, to say nothing of vanquishing the
large and famous _Typhoon_, a ship more than double her size. It should,
however, be remembered with regard to the _Sea Witch_, that she was at
that time over five years old, and had led a pretty wild life under
Waterman, while she had known no peace with Frazer in command, and had
been strained and weakened by hard driving. Moreover, a wooden ship,
after five or six years, begins to lose her speed through absorbing
water, and becomes sluggish in light airs. In her prime and at her best
with Waterman in command, the _Sea Witch_ was probably the fastest
sailing-ship of her inches ever built.
The California clippers were, of course, racing all the time, against
each other and against the record, and the strain upon their captains
in driving their ships against competitors whose relative positions were
unknown, was terrific. It became a confirmed habit with them to keep
their ships going night and day in all weathers and at their utmost
speed.
In order to appreciate what a passage of 110 days or less from an
Atlantic port to San Francisco really means, we must take a few of the
long passages of 1851, made by ships that were not clippers: _Arthur_,
from New York, 200 days; _Austerlitz_, Boston, 185 days; _Barrington_,
Boston, 180 days; _Bengal_, Philadelphia, 185 days; _Capitol_, Boston,
300 days; _Cornwallis_, New York, 204 days; _Franconia_, Boston, 180
days; _Henry Allen_, New York, 225 days; _Inconium_, Baltimore, 190
days. The logs of these vessels tell of long, weary days and nights of
exasperating calms, and dreary, heart-breaking weeks of battle with
tempests off Cape Horn.
Some of the vessels built in 1851 did not take part in the races of that
year, as they were not launched until too late; and did not arrive at
San Francisco before 1852. Those among them which became most famous
were the _Hurricane_, _Comet_, _Northern Light_, _Flying Fish_,
_Staffordshire_, _Trade Wind_, _Sword-Fish_, and _Shooting Star_. We
shall hear of them later.
The record of San Francisco passages for 1851 should not be closed
without mention of the pilot-boat _Fanny_, of 84 tons; length 71 feet,
breadth 18 feet 4 inches, depth 7 feet 2 inches, built by Daniel D.
Kelly at East Boston in 1850. This schooner was commanded by Captain
William Kelly, a brother of her builder, and arrived at San Francisco
February 18, 1851, 108 days from Boston. She passed through the Straits
of Magellan and thus saved a considerable distance; but even allowing
for this, her passage was a very remarkable one for a vessel of her
tonnage, and reflects much credit upon the skill and courage of her
captain and his plucky companions.