THE "RED JACKET"
A REMINISCENCE OF 1857
We are justly proud of the development of our steamships--their size,
speed, and magnificent equipment--and we are apt to forget that this
has always been characteristic of British shipping. In the old
sailing-ship days, about 1850-1860, a walk round the Prince's Dock,
crowded with clipper ships, was something to fill an Englishman with
pride. The beautiful symmetry of the hull, the graceful sweep of the
sheer fore and aft, the tautness of the spars, the smartness of the
gear and equipment attracted the eye; but, perhaps, above all, the
romance of the sea attached itself to the sailing-ship and appealed to
the imagination in a way which does not gather round a steamer,
however large and magnificent. We realised that the sailing-ship had
to do battle with wind and waves in far distant seas single-handed,
relying entirely upon her sails and equipment and the skill of her
crew; whereas a steamer tells us at once of her unseen power which
makes her independent of winds and weather, and enables her to make
her voyages with almost the regularity of the railway train. All this,
the achievement of the steam engine and the development of the screw
propeller, is very splendid to think upon, but the old romance of the
sea has gone.
The inspiring and wonderful sight of the Liverpool docks, a forest of
the masts of English and American clippers; the river Mersey at high
water, alive with splendid sailing vessels leaving or entering our
docks, and at anchor in a line extending from the Sloyne to New
Brighton, or towing out to sea, or may be sailing in from sea under
their own canvas--all was activity and full of life and motion. I
remember seeing one of Brocklebank's ships--the "Martaban," of 600
tons--sailing into the George's Dock Basin under full canvas; her
halliards were let go, and sails were clewed up so smartly that the
ship as she passed the Pierhead was able to throw a line on shore and
make fast. It is difficult in these days to realise such a thing being
possible. It was skill supported by discipline.
When I was young I was a keen yachtsman, and had the good fortune to
make a voyage to Australia in one of the most famous of our clipper
ships, the "Red Jacket." Some account of the first few days of my
voyage may be of interest, and bring into contrast the ease and luxury
enjoyed on board an Atlantic liner, with the hard life on board a
first-class clipper ship. It is not too much to say that on board an
Atlantic liner the weather does not count; on board an old
sailing-ship the weather meant everything.
[Illustration: "Red Jacket," 1854]
The "Red Jacket" was built in Maine, in 1854. She was 2,006 tons. Her
length was 260 feet, and her beam 44 feet. She was an extremely
good-looking ship. Her figurehead was a full-length representation of
"Red Jacket," a noted Indian chieftain. She had been purchased by
Pilkington & Wilson for £30,000, for their White Star Line of
Australian packets. On her voyage from New York she had made the
passage in thirteen days one hour--on one day she logged 415 miles.
On the morning of the 20th November, 1857, I embarked by a tender from
the Liverpool Pierhead. It was nearly the top of high water. The crew
were mustered on the forecastle, under the 1st Mate, Mr. Taylor. An
order comes from the quarter-deck, "Heave up the anchor and get under
way." "Aye, aye, sir." "Now then, my boys, man the windlass," shouts
the Mate, and to a merry chantie:
In 1847 Paddy Murphy went to heaven
To work upon the railway,
A-working on the railway, the railway, the railway,
Oh, poor Paddy works upon the railway.
A good chantie man is a great help in a ship's crew. A song with a
bright topical chorus takes half the weight off a long or a heavy
haul. The chain cable comes in with a click, click of the windlass
falls. "The anchor is away, sir," shouts the Chief Officer. "Heave it
a-peak and cathead it," comes from the quarter-deck, and the tug
"Retriever" forges ahead, and tightens the towrope as we gather way.
Bang, bang, went the guns, and twice more, for we were carrying the
mails, and good-bye to old Liverpool, and the crowds which lined the
pierhead cheered, for the "Red Jacket" was already a famous ship, and
it was hoped she would make a record passage.
Next morning we were off Holyhead, with a fresh westerly breeze and
southerly swell. We were making but poor headway, and shortly the
hawser parted. "All hands on deck" was shouted by Captain O'Halloran,
and a crew of eighty men promptly appeared on deck, for we carried a
double crew. "Loose sails fore and aft; hands in the tops and
cross-trees to see that all is clear and to overhaul gear; let royals
and skysails alone."
The boatswain's whistle sounded fore and aft as the men quickly took
their positions and laid hold of the halyards and braces. "Mr. Taylor,
loose the head-sails." "Aye, aye, sir." The topsails, courses, and
topgallant sails were all loose and gaskets made up. "Sheet home your
topsails." "Aye, aye, sir." "Now, then, my men, lead your topsail
halyards fore and aft, and up with them." Away the crew walk along
with the halyards, and then with a long pull and a pull all together
the topsail yards are mastheaded to the chantie:--
Then up the yard must go,
Whiskey for my Johnny,
Oh, whiskey for the life of man,
Whiskey, Johnny.
"'Vast heaving--Belay there. Now brace up the yards, all hands on the
lee fore braces."
So handy my boys, so handy,
sang the chantie man. "Pass along the watch tackle, and have another
pull. That will do. Belay there, and man the main braces. Down tacks."
The jibs are run up and the spanker hauled out, and the good ship "Red
Jacket" like a hound released from the leash, bounds forward, and runs
the knots off the log reel.
Captain O'Halloran was hanging on to the rail to windward, munching,
not smoking, his cigar, with an anxious eye to windward, asking
himself, "Dare I do it? Will she carry them? Yes, I think she will.
Mr. Taylor, stand by the royals, haul on the weather braces, steady
the yard while the youngsters lay aloft--up boys"; and half a dozen or
so youngsters scampered up the rigging, over the tops, and through the
cross-trees, and quickly were the royals loosed and sheeted home.
"Well done lads--tie up the gaskets--clear the clew lines and come
down." But we not only wanted all sails, but every sail well set, for
we were close on the wind. Jibs and staysails, courses and topsails,
topgallant sails and royals must be braced sharp up at the same angle
to the wind, and every tack and sheet pulling doing its work. The good
ship felt that she had the bit in her mouth, and bounded along,
throwing the seas in sparkling cascades to port and starboard. The man
at the wheel kept his eyes upon the weather-luff of the fore royal,
and kept the sail just on the tremble, so as not to lose an inch to
windward.
As evening approached, the wind increased with squalls, the Captain
looked anxious, and shouted to Mr. Taylor, "See that all the halyards
are clear, run life-lines fore and aft, sand the decks, and see that
the lee scuppers are free." So the good ship plunged along,
occasionally taking a sea over the bows, and in some of her lurches
pushing her lee rail under water and throwing spray fore and aft; she
was just flirting with the weather, romping along, seemingly enjoying
every moment, and revelling in her element. "Keep her going," shouted
the Captain to the man at the wheel, "full and bye; just ease her a
few spokes when the squall strikes her." A loud report like a
cannon--the second jib is blown clear out of the bolt ropes. "Hands
forward--bend a new jib"--not an easy matter with seas coming over the
forecastle; but with
Haul in the bowline, the bowline haul
the sail was mastheaded.
"Mr. Taylor, heave the log." "Aye, aye, sir." "What is she doing?"
"Eighteen knots, sir, on the taffrail." "Good, we shall make over 400
knots by noon tomorrow." And we did.
We need not say that passengers under these conditions were not at
home, or, indeed, wanted on deck, and the fifty saloon passengers and
600 steerage were on such days kept below in an atmosphere which was
stifling; but this was rather an exceptional day. We had also soft,
bright, sunny days, when life was a delight, a luxury, a dream, and
the sea heavenly, but we had something exciting almost every day--sail
splits, spars and gear carried away, albatross circling overhead, Cape
pigeons, icebergs off Kerguelen Land, and finally we made Port Philip
Heads in sixty-four days--the record passage. Bravo, "Red Jacket."
I leave my readers to mentally compare a passenger's life on the "Red
Jacket"--with its spirit of sport and adventure, its romance, its
daily happenings, and its hardships--with the luxury on such a ship as
the "Aquitania" or "Olympic" with all their attractions of a
first-class hotel, bridge parties, dancing, and entertainment of every
kind, regardless of weather--with everything, in fact, but that spirit
of adventure which appeals so strongly to the imagination of the
Britisher, and which, after all, has built up his character and made
him the doughty man he is either on land or at sea.