The first sixty or seventy years of the nineteenth century saw the art of the seaman at its highest state of perfection. There was never anything to equal it either before or since in the achievements rendered by the sailors who manned the famous “wooden walls” of Nelson’s time, who took the stately East Indiaman backwards and forwards with so much ceremony and safety, or hurried along the tea clipper at a continuous rate which has never since been surpassed by any fleet of sail-propelled ships.

At the beginning of the nineteenth century there were royal dockyards at Chatham, Portsmouth, Plymouth, Deptford, Woolwich, and Sheerness; and here His Majesty’s ships were generally moored in the piping times of peace. The first three of these yards were governed by a resident commissioner, who superintended all the musters of the officers, artificers, and labourers employed in the dockyard. He controlled the payments, examined the accounts, contracts, etc., and generally regulated the dockyard. Large ships, such as those mighty wooden walls which could carry a hundred guns, were usually built in dry dock, with strong flood gates to prevent the tide from coming in. When the time came for launching, and it was spring tides, the gates were opened and the ship floated out. But small craft, such as frigates and corvettes, were built on the slips, and then launched by means of a cradle which sped down the ways, the latter having been previously greased with soap or tallow.

The oak of which these craft were built usually came from the Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, and the New Forest, Hants. But as ships were built out in the open, the weather got into the wood and rotted it, so that sometimes a ship was condemned before she was ever put in commission; and, in any case, the life of some wooden walls was under ten years. Others lasted for a long period, as, for instance, Nelson’s Victory, which was built in the year 1765. The method of building was curiously medieval, and almost Viking-like in its simplicity. The timbers were secured by treenails to the planking. They were preferred to spike-nails or bolts, as the latter were liable to rust with the sea water and get loose. The thickness of the treenail was proportioned to the length of the ship, one inch being allowed to every hundred feet. In the Royal Navy and in the East India Service ships were always sheathed with copper to protect the hull against worms. The copper was quite thin, brown paper being inserted between the sheathing and the oak. Other ships than these two classes had thin deal boards nailed over the outside of the bottom for the same purpose.

After the new ship had been floated out of her dock she was taken alongside a sheer-hulk. The latter was an old man-o’-war, which had been dismantled and refitted with one very high mast, strengthened with shrouds and stays to secure the sheers which served as the arm of a crane for hoisting ships’ masts in or out, and getting the yards on to the new vessel. Her sails were bent, her guns and ammunition taken aboard, and away she went for her first commission. Not one of these “wooden walls” carried any canvas above royals. They could not travel fast through the water even on a wind, for they were bulky, clumsy, and cumbrous. Their lines were not sweet, they had a huge, heavy body to drive through the water; they were slow in stays, and they were not easy to handle. They rolled so badly, that in heavy weather they sometimes rolled their masts out.

With a hundred guns aboard and most of a thousand men, a three-decker was certainly an interesting sight. Her guns were arranged in rows along her decks. The lower gun-deck was little above the water-line. A 100-gun ship in Nelson’s time cost over £67,000, and these three decks ran from stem to stern, besides a forecastle and a quarter-deck, the former of which extended aft from the stem to the belfry, where the ship’s bell was suspended under a shelter. The quarter-deck extended from aft to the mainmast. There was also a poop-deck, and another deck below the lower gun-deck, called the orlop, where the cables were coiled and the sails stowed. The gun-room was on the after end of the lower gun-deck, and partly used by the gunner; but in frigates and smaller vessels, where it was below, it was used by the lieutenants as a mess-room. The ward-room was over the gun-room, where the superior officers messed and slept.

In action the guns were run out, by means of side tackles, till their muzzles were well outside the port, so that the flash of the gun might not set the ship’s side on fire. These ports were fitted with heavy square lids. In bad weather it was impossible to open the lower-deck ports lest the sea should swamp the ship. There was a kind of shutter also, called a half-port, with a circular hole in the centre large enough to go over the muzzle of the gun, and furnished with a piece of canvas nailed round its edge to tie on the gun and prevent the water entering the port, although the gun remained run out. These were used chiefly on the main deck. Ropes were made fast to the outside of the lids attached to a tackle within, by which the port-lids could be drawn up.

There was but little light ’tween decks in these ships even by day, and the glimmer of a purser’s dip was the only illumination. The magazines, however, were lighted through what was termed a “light-room.” The latter was a small apartment with double-glass windows towards the magazine. No candle could, of course, be taken into the latter, so the gunner and his assistants filled their cartridges with powder by the candles shining through the windows. In the bigger men-o’-war there were two light-rooms; one attached to the after magazine, and the other which gave light to the fore or great magazine. The after magazine contained just enough supply of cartridges for the after guns during action, but the great magazine had enough powder for the ship for a long period.

The cables were usually of 120 fathoms and made of hemp, bass, or Indian grass, though the biggest ships used hemp exclusively for their heavy anchors. The change from hemp to chain cables came in 1812, and these were much appreciated as saving a great deal of valuable space below. For the hemp cables when coiled down in a frigate’s cable-tier filled nearly a quarter of her hold, and when it is remembered that a 1000-ton ship had a cable measuring over 8 inches in diameter, and that a 2?-inch chain was just as strong—the breaking strain exceeded 65 tons—but took up less space, we can well understand that hemp was not altogether an advantage, notwithstanding that in bad weather these heavy, bluff ships would ride far easier to the rope than the chain. The largest anchor used weighed five tons. It had a wooden stock and broad palms.

Because these hemp cables were so thick there must needs be very large hawse-pipes. Now these ships not only rolled; they pitched in a sea-way, and consequently they took in a great deal of water through these pipes. In order to prevent the water getting adrift all over the ship, there was a large compartment fitted up just abaft the hawse-pipes and called the manger. This stretched athwart the deck, separated on the after part by the manger-board, which was a strong bulkhead, the water being allowed to return to the sea through scuppers. Leather pipes were nailed round the outside of the lower-deck scuppers, which, by hanging down, prevented the water from entering when the ship heeled under a press of canvas.

The cables led in through the hawse-pipes below deck to the bitts. To bitt the cable was to put it round the bitts, which were frames of strong timbers fixed perpendicularly into the ship. The “bitter end” was that part of the cable which was abaft the bitts, and not allowed to run out. Hence the common expression “to the bitter end” has no reference to the other meaning of the word spelt in a similar way. These cables were in lengths of 40 fathoms, and then spliced to make the 120 fathoms. Naturally a heavy ship such as a 100-gun first-rate carried a great deal of way. When, therefore, the anchor was let go, the friction of the cable passing through the hawse-pipe was something enormous, and the hemp became so hot that the tar on its surface often took fire, therefore men were always stationed to stand by with buckets of water. Likewise, the bitts and timbers round the heated hawse-pipes had to be attended to. Another drawback to a rope cable was that it chafed a great deal. In coral-bottomed waters it was customary to arm with chains that part which was likely to be worn; and the cable was also sometimes buoyed with casks lashed at intervals, so as to float safely above the rough bottom of the sea-bed.

There is an interesting passage in a letter written by Captain Duff of H.M.S. Mars, in 1805, to his wife, in which the following words occur: “October 10th. I am sorry the rain has begun to-night, as it will spoil my fine work, having been employed for this week past to paint the ship À la Nelson, which most of the fleet are doing.” That, of course, was just a few days before Trafalgar. And there is a phrase in a letter written by a young midshipman to his father, in 1794, telling him all about the Glorious First of June battle. “The French ... called us the little devil, and the little black ribband, as we have a black streak painted on our side.” The explanation of these two passages is as follows. Up to the beginning of the nineteenth century it was left to a captain’s own taste to paint his ship whatever colours he liked. There was no uniformity as to-day, but generally a ship was painted with a wide black streak along the water-line just above the copper sheathing. This streak ran right round the ship, and in depth reached to the lower gun-deck. Above this the hull was painted a brownish yellow, but sometimes it was more a lemon-colour. The after upper works above the gun-decks and the outer sides of the poop above the quarter-deck guns were painted a vivid red or blue.

This bright band of colour gradually faded until, by the time Trafalgar was fought, it became a dull, deep blue—almost black. Round the forecastle ran a band of scarlet or pale blue edged with gold, and continued down the beak to the figurehead. The outsides of the port-lids were a brownish yellow like the sides, and the stern walks were decorated with elaborate gilt carvings, cherubs and dolphins and mermaids, the royal arms, and wreaths, etc. Round the stern of each ship, outside the glazed windows of the cabin, ran a quarter gallery for the captain, while at the bows a figurehead was seen which was regarded with a sentimental interest and kept in good condition. But Nelson had his ships painted black, with a yellow streak along each tier of ports, and the port-lids were painted black. This chequer painting, then, was the method “À la Nelson” to which Captain Duff was referring.

Internally the sides of the ships were still painted a blood-red, for the reason already given in an earlier century. So also were the inner sides of the port-lids. But after Trafalgar the interiors were sometimes painted in other colours, such as green or yellow or even brown, until, after the year 1840, white became uniform. Many internal fittings such as the gun-carriages, and even the guns themselves, were painted red or chocolate during the Nelson period. The lower masts were painted a dull yellow, the topmasts and upper spars varnished a dark brown, and the lower yards and gaffs painted black. The blocks, the chains, the dead-eyes, the wooden and iron fittings for the rigging were all tarred black, just as one often finds them to-day on some old coaster or fishing smack. The masts of the British warships were painted white usually before any engagement with the French, so as to distinguish them from the Gallic masts, which were black.

It was the superiority of the British gunnery which won most of our battles against the French, even when the latter had better ships and faster. The British directed their fire chiefly against the hull, whereas the French aimed at the rigging. The cartridges were filled in the magazines and handed up to the fighting decks above by the powder-monkeys. Along the decks were arranged, at intervals, match-tubs to receive the slow-matches used in firing the guns, whilst in the cockpit of the ship the surgeon and his mates were busy attending to the wounded. The ’tween decks were very cramped, and there was not much air, and there was still a good deal of disease rampant among the seamen. The surgeon’s mate messed in a space only six feet square in the cockpit, “screened off with canvas, and shut in by chests, dark as a dungeon, and smelling intolerably of putrefied cheese and rancid butter.”

After the end of the eighteenth century, the salutary practice of building ships under cover became general. Nowadays, of course, most ships are constructed in the open air. But in the time we are speaking of the ship—men built with wood and not steel. And when the weather was not allowed to get inside and rot the wood, it was found that the vessels lasted much longer than before. Furthermore, the method of uniting two pieces of timber together by “scarfing” was introduced. It was done either by letting the end of one piece of wood into the end of the other, or by laying the two ends together and fastening a third piece to them both. Thus, curved timbers could be made with pieces of straight timber. This may seem quite a small matter to some, but when it is stated that until this device was employed ships ready for launching were sometimes detained on the stocks for a considerable period until natural bent timbers could be found, it will be seen that Sir Robert Seppings, the inventor, was performing an excellent service to the Admiralty.

And there were other improvements which were only justified. That effusive gilt decoration—the scrolls, the allegorical figures, the wreaths (which had come in during Caroline times), the heavy brackets for the poop-lanterns were all to come under the chastening hand of simplicity. The stern galleries became simpler in character and fewer in number, the spritmast disappeared and the spritsail, though the spritsail yard remained for some time. In the Merchant Service the “Jimmy Green” continued till well into the nineteenth century; and the yard of the lateen mizzen had long since been lopped off to become a gaff, as also the triangular mizzen sail had become quadrilateral and a boom had been added. Masts were made taller, but the bowsprit was no longer a quasi-mast, as it had been since medieval days. Staysails had come into use from Dutch origin, and royals—or, as Hutchinson called them, “topgallant royals”—and studding-sails were already well established during the latter part of the eighteenth century. The triangular headsails were relied upon for getting the ship’s head round, and consequently the foremast was no longer placed so far forward as it had been in Tudor and Stuart times.

During the reign of George III, a three-decker carried either 32- or 42-pounders on her lower gun-deck, 24-pounders on her middle deck, and either 12- or 6-pounders on her upper deck. On the forecastle and quarter-deck 6-pounders were fired. It was the 32-pounders which began to be recognised as the largest satisfactory gun for the first-rates, and so continued till about 1840. In place of the old Elizabethan powder-horn and linstock, gun-locks and firing-tubes were introduced, and the system of ventilating ships, introduced during the eighteenth century by Dr. Hales, made for the improved health of both ships and crews.

Many of those who emigrated from these shores to the United States of America can still remember the sailing ships which carried them through gales with safety. That was the time when the ship’s deck was like a veritable farmyard. There were no condensed foods, no patent refrigerating arrangements, no water-condensers; so the ship’s long-boat, stowed securely on deck, became filled with pens of sheep and pigs, while cackling ducks and quacking geese reminded the agricultural emigrants of the homes they had just left. There was a cow-house on deck, and on some ships there was even a small kitchen-garden in boxes filled with earth, which reposed in the jolly-boat. In those smaller ships carrying no passengers, the pigs and poultry had practically the whole run of the ship. Milk was obtained from the goats and cows, but occasionally, when the wild Atlantic made a clean sweep of the deck, this article of food was impossible till the next port was reached.

The eighteenth-century transatlantic ships used to make only two trips a year, taking four months for the round voyage and back. The quickest trip was the homeward one to England, for there was a favourable westerly wind to run before. But even with a head wind, these old packets made good their 40 knots a day. And so matters went on till the volume of trade and the number of emigrants had so much increased as to create a demand for the bigger ships of about 800 tons that came in 1840.

I hope on another occasion to tell at greater length the story of that fine class of ship known as the East Indiaman, which has long since disappeared from the sea. I have but little space left here to deal with a species of ship that was scarcely inferior to many of those in His Majesty’s service. Although nominally merchantmen, yet they so much enjoyed the patronage of the Government, that to be officer in the East India Company’s service was almost the equivalent of a commission in the Royal Navy. So well paid were the East India captains and their staff, and so many handsome emoluments besides were there attached to their posts, that you are not altogether surprised to find, as you look down the names of these officers, men of title and the younger sons of some of the best English families.

Promotion was made by seniority, and a captain was assigned to his ship even before she was launched, so that he had an opportunity of knowing every timber and every plank in her hull. He superintended her fitting out, and when she was at last complete with her spars and sails, her complement of passengers, her cargo and her crew, she put to sea, but she was in no tremendous hurry to get to the Orient. Her voyaging was to be safe and sure, like her captain’s remuneration. For he was allowed by the directors 56½ tons of space for carrying cargo on his own account, the rates of freights then varying from £35 to £40 a ton. Captains did their own chartering, and in one way and another accumulated very large perquisites. A conservative estimate places the income of some of these skippers as from £6000 to £10,000 a year; and the mates and petty officers managed to feather their own nests very amply as well.

The discipline of these ships was founded on the prevailing custom in the Royal Navy. They flew the Navy’s long pendant. They were built like some of the Admiralty frigates, they were fitted out on similar lines, and they were handled in like manner. But they were slightly fuller-bodied than the Admiralty ships in order to carry plenty of cargo. The accommodation for passengers was, considering the times, luxurious. At the end of each homeward voyage these ships were entirely dismantled and given a complete refit, the passengers selling their state-room furniture by auction on board before going ashore. The directors looked well after the men as well as holding out encouragement to the officers. Seamen of eight years’ service were permitted pensions. The crews were divided into two watches, the officers having three watches—four hours on and eight hours off. The men messed in batches of eight, their allotted space being between the guns in the ’tween decks. Here also were their mess-utensils and their sea-chests, and here were slung their hammocks. Every Sunday morning after the crew had been inspected they were, by the regulations of the Company, to attend Divine service, the captain acting as chaplain. If a commander’s log-book was found to have omitted this duty he was liable to a fine of two guineas. He wore a uniform consisting of a blue coat having black velvet lapels with cuffs and collar. There was plenty of gold embroidery and gilt buttons with the Company’s device thereon. The breeches were buff, he wore a black stock or neckcloth, and a cocked hat and side-arms completed the picture.

So also the crews were constantly drilled at their guns and trained to handle cutlass, musket, and boarding pike. There were two men to every job, there was plenty of food, and there was no cause for grumbling at overwork. There was plenty of rum, there were good quarters and good prospects. And yet for all that there were reckless fellows who could not realise their good fortune. When they had offended they were brought before the ship’s court-martial in true naval fashion and sentenced to the cat-o’-nine-tails. And no man could complain that the commander was “driving” his ship; for every evening, no matter how fine the weather looked, the royals and all light sails such as studding-sails were stowed, and the royal yards sent down on deck. No risks were run unnecessarily, and if the weather looked at all threatening the t’gallant sails and mainsail were stowed and a single reef tucked into the topsails. The aim was to combine safety with comfort, and so they snugged down every night, and by day whenever there was the least temptation. But the East India was a fine service and a splendid school for British seamanship, a calling that has so considerably died out during the last forty years. In the year 1832 the valuable monopoly which the East India Company had enjoyed for so long a time was put an end to. Commerce was thrown open, competition entirely altered the previous conditions, and at last this fine fleet was sold and disbanded.

But it was the period of the clipper which simultaneously brought seamanship to unheard-of attainment, and chanted its swan-song. The period is covered roughly by the years 1840 to 1870. It was introduced owing to a demand for the more rapid delivery of goods, especially tea, which does not improve by remaining in a ship’s hold. It was given a strong impetus by the discovery of gold in California, and the eager rush of prospectors to reach that part quickly. The rush to Australia in like manner was a still further impetus to the development of the clipper ship at the middle of the nineteenth century. The China tea trade in the ’fifties and ’sixties caused these ships to be improved and developed and handled to the utmost limits, until the opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 gave it its death-blow. For a time it lingered, yet the collateral encouragement of the steamship made it impossible for the sailing ship to pay her way across the ocean. But there never have been such smart ocean passages so continuously maintained as by the China clippers of the ’sixties. There never were better sailing ships built of wood, and there never were captains who “cracked on” or crews who could work such big canvas-propelled craft with such distinction. This was the period when a ship was not content with t’gallants and royals, but must needs set sky sails and moonrakers.

A very fine type of clipper was built in 1859 by Messrs. Robert Steel and Son, at Greenock, to which class belonged such famous ships as the Falcon and Fiery Cross. They were beautifully designed craft and splendidly built, with ample deck space for working the ship and small deck-houses, and were kept up almost as smartly as a modern sailing yacht with polished brass-work, holystoned decks, and well-found gear. The clipper Seaforth, which was built in 1863, brought about quite a revolution in the sailing ship’s equipment, for she was the first sailing vessel to have steel spars and wire rigging. Her lower masts, her topmasts, and her topsail yards and bowsprit were all steel likewise.

In one respect these old tea clippers were curiously medieval, though the practice continued also in the ships of the Royal Navy till well on into the nineteenth century. This was in the matter of loose ballast. These tea clippers carried about 300 tons of shingle ballast laid evenly along the bottom of the ship, and upon this shingle were laid the chests of tea, and considerable dunnage was put in as well. These ships had a registered tonnage of about 700 tons, and could carry about 1000 tons of tea. They were worked by a crew of about thirty; they were captained by skippers of the utmost ability and prudence, who, unlike the East Indiaman captains, did not worry about snugging down at nightfall, but first and foremost were bent on getting the cargo to the London river in the least possible time. They “cracked on” and undertook risks in gales of wind which would have terrified many another commander. But it was to their interests to make smart passages. Some of them were part-owners, and there was a premium of ten shillings a ton to the skipper who landed the first cargo of a season’s tea. Thus, in addition to his other emoluments, there was a chance of making an extra £500 after a quick voyage. Many of the crews had served their time in sailing ships of the Royal Navy, so a captain could rely on getting the best out of his fine ship. Some of these skippers retired with large fortunes; but the premium system led to a great deal of jealousy and unpleasantness. For it might happen—it did, in fact, occur—that one ship might make the fastest sailing passage to Dungeness and yet get her package of tea ashore some time after the second vessel, simply because the latter had been fortunate in picking up a more powerful tug to tow her from Dungeness to London. So, eventually, this premium method had to be abandoned.

When we remember that such vessels as the Taeping and other clippers have been known to maintain for long periods an average of 13 knots an hour, we may well regret that the coming of the steamship was not delayed a century later, to give these ships a complete epoch of their own. Perhaps in the course of events time will wreak its revenge, and give us back once more a period of true seamanship and a recurrence of the most interesting ways of a ship.