CALIFORNIA CLIPPERS OF 1853
During the year 1853, twenty ships arrived at San Francisco from
Atlantic ports, chiefly New York, in 110 days or less, showing the high
standard of efficiency that had been reached. The best passages of the
year were made by the _Flying Fish_, 92 days; _John Gilpin_, 93 days;
_Contest_, 97 days; _Oriental_ 100 days; _Trade Wind_, 102 days;
_Westward Ho_, 103 days; _Phantom_, 104 days; _Sword-Fish_, _Hornet_,
and _Flying Cloud_, each 105 days; and _Sea Serpent_, 107 days. The
_Comet_ arrived on January 17th, after a passage of 112 days from
Boston. While off Bermuda she encountered a heavy southwest gale, and
was laying to under close-reefed fore-and maintopsails and foretopmast
staysail, when the wind suddenly shifted into the southeast and blew
with terrific force, carrying away the foretopmast stays, sending the
foretopmast over the side, and making junk of the two topsails. Captain
Gardner had a good crew, and so soon as the weather moderated, he
rerigged his ship at sea, and took her into San Francisco as noted, in
112 days.
Racing had now become close and exciting, and the fleet was so large
that it was not uncommon
[Illustration: The “Comet”]
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:
_Flying Fish_ _John Gilpin_
Sandy Hook to the equator 21 days 24 days.
Equator to 50° S. 27 “ 23 “
50° in the Atlantic to 50° S. in
Pacific 7 “ 11 “
To the equator 19 “ 20 “
Equator to San Francisco 18 “ 15 “
-- --
Total 92 “ 93 “
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:
“Way haul away,
Haul away the bowline,
Way haul away, Haul away, Joe!”
The halliards are led along the deck fore and aft in the grip of clean
brawny fists with sinewy arms and broad backs behind them, the ordinary
seamen and boys tailing on, and perhaps the cook, steward, carpenter,
and sailmaker lending a hand, and all hands join in a ringing chorus of
the ocean, mingling in harmony with the clear sky, indigo-blue waves,
and the sea breeze purring aloft among the spars and rigging:
“Oh, poor Reuben Ranzo,
Ranzo, boys, O Ranzo,
Oh, Ranzo was no sailor,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo.
So they shipped him aboard a whaler,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And he could not do his duty,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo.
So the mate, he being a bad man,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
He led him to the gangway,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And he gave him five-and-twenty,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
But the captain, he being a good man,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
He took him in the cabin,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And he gave him wine and whiskey,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And he learned him navigation,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo,
And now he’s Captain Ranzo,
Ranzo boys, O Ranzo.”
Finally the mate’s clear, sharp order comes: “Belay there; clap a watch
tackle on the lee fore brace.” “Aye, aye, sir!” And so every sheet,
halliard, and brace is swayed up and tautened to the freshening breeze.
The gear is coiled up, the brasswork polished until it glistens in the
morning sun, the paintwork and gratings are wiped off, decks swabbed
dry, and the pumps manned to another rousing chanty:
“London town is a-burning,
Oh, run with the bullgine, run.
Way, yay, way, yay, yar,
Oh, run with the bullgine, run.”
The “old man” gets his morning sights, the log is hove, the wheel and
watch are relieved at eight bells, and the clipper is ready for another
day of stress and strain.
Mornings like these bring keen appetites to officers and men, so the
watch below sit about on their chests in the forecastle or on the fore
hatch and dive into the mess kid with knives and spoons. It may be a
chunk of salt pork or cold salt beef, or what Rufus Choate, in one of
his flights of forensic eloquence, described as the “nutritious hash,”
“succulent lob-scouse,” or “palatable dandy funk,” with plenty of hard
tack in the bread barge, and all washed down with unlimited coffee. Not
quail on toast or devilled kidneys, to be sure, but good substantial
seamen’s food, upon which a man can work better at sea, grow stronger,
and become less tired than on any other.
In the old days captains used to lay in large stocks of chickens, eggs,
etc., for their crews at Anjer Point, but before the ship was half-way
across the Indian Ocean, the men would begin to crow in the dog watch,
and come aft in a body, asking that their salt junk might be restored to
them. In those days, as now, salmon were plentiful in California, but
their introduction on board the clipper ships failed to tempt the
appetites of sailormen when off soundings. They said they liked salt
junk a good deal better. Besides, it gave them something to growl
about--for sailors knew how to curse junk according to traditions
approved by generations of jackies, but when it came to chickens and
salmon they were at a loss for sufficiently vigorous and appropriate
expletives to express their disgust. There used to be a yarn about an
old shellback who, in a cross-examination, was asked by a smart Boston
lawyer whether the crew did not have enough to eat. The mariner replied,
“Well, yes, your honor, there was enough of it, such as it was”; and
upon further inquiry as to the quality of the food, he answered, “Now,
you see, sir, it was like this: the food was good enough, what there was
of it.” And this summed up a sailor’s idea of food and pretty much
everything else, in those days.
The building of clipper ships in the United States reached its zenith in
1853. In that year forty-eight clippers were added to the California
fleet, and the wild excitement of building, owning, and racing these
splendid ships was at its height. Every one who had capital to invest
wanted one, or at least shares in one, and the ship-building yards were
taxed to their utmost capacity. It should be remembered also that there
was a great deal of other ship-building going on in the United States
besides the clippers, and that captains, officers, and crews for such a
large number of vessels were by no means easy to obtain.
In this year Donald McKay built the _Empress of the Seas_ and _Romance
of the Seas_; William H. Webb, the _Fly Away_, _Snap Dragon_, and _Young
America_; Jacob A. Westerwelt, the _Cathay_ and _Sweepstakes_; Samuel
Hall, the second _Oriental_, the _Amphitrite_, and _Mystery_; Greenman &
Co., the _David Crockett_; Roosevelt & Joyce, the _David Brown_; John
Currier, the _Guiding Star_; Thomas Collier, the second _Panama_; J. W.
[Illustration: The “Young America”]
Cox, the _Red Gauntlet_; Briggs Brothers, the _John Land_ and _Golden
Light_; and Toby & Littlefield, the _Morning Star_--all beautiful ships,
the pride of their owners and captains.
The _Romance of the Seas_, owned by George B. Upton, of Boston, was the
last extreme clipper ship built by Donald McKay for the California
trade. She was a beautiful vessel, with extremely fine lines, heavily
sparred, and proved an exceedingly fast ship in moderate weather.
Captain Dumaresq was in command on her first voyage to San Francisco.
She was 1782 tons register; length 240 feet, breadth 39 feet 6 inches,
depth 29 feet 6 inches. The _Sweepstakes_, owned by Grinnell, Minturn &
Co., and designed by Daniel Westervelt, a son of Jacob A. Westervelt,
was a very sharp and handsome ship, and was the last extreme clipper
built in the Westervelt yard. She made three passages from New York to
San Francisco averaging 106 days. Captain George Lane, who commanded her
for a number of years, was subsequently a commander in the Pacific Mail
between San Francisco and China, and later became the agent of the
company at Hong-kong.
The _Young America_, the last extreme clipper built by William H. Webb,
was owned by George Daniels, of New York, and for several years was
commanded by Captain David Babcock. This ship was 1962 tons register;
length 236 feet 6 inches, breadth 42 feet, depth 28 feet 6 inches. She
proved an excellent and fast vessel. Among her many fine passages may be
mentioned: from New York to San Francisco, 103, 107, 110, 112, 117, and
116 days, and from San Francisco to New York, 92, 97, 85, 101, 103, and
83 days; San Francisco to Liverpool, 103 and 106 days; Liverpool to San
Francisco, 117, 111, and 99 days; and twenty consecutive passages from
New York to San Francisco averaging 117 days. Her best performance,
however, was from 50° S. in the Atlantic to 50° S. in the Pacific, in
the record time of 6 days. She, too, was an exceedingly handsome ship,
and was Mr. Webb’s favorite among all the splendid ships constructed by
him. After thirty years’ continuous service in the San Francisco trade,
during which she is said to have rounded Cape Horn over fifty times, she
was finally sold to a firm in Austria, upon condition that her name
should be changed. She then became known as the _Miroslav_ and foundered
with all hands in 1888, while bound from Philadelphia to a European
port.