PART II. "THE WOOL CLIPPERS." ( Wood and Composite Ships ).

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With tallow casks all dunnaged tight, with tiers on tiers of bales,
With cargo crammed from hatch to hatch, she’s racing for the sales;
A clipper barque, a model ship, a “flyer” through and through,
O skipper bluff! O skipper brave! I would I went with you!

G. J. Brady.

The Carriers of the Golden Fleece.

IF it was the discovery of gold that founded Australia’s fortune, the Golden Fleece and the Wheat Sheaf have set it upon a rock.

It was the gold fever that swept the great tide of emigration in the direction of the Southern Cross and carried the star of the Liverpool shipowners upon its flood, but that star began to set as soon as the output of alluvial gold began to diminish, as soon, indeed, as the great soft-wood clippers of the Black Ball and White Star began to grow water-soaked and strained, for their prosperity may be said to have ended with the sixties and had scarcely a longer run than the classification of their ships. But the percentage of emigrants landed by these ships, who stuck for any time to the elusive hunt for gold, was very small; and the greater number of the gold seeking emigrants eventually settled and worked on the homesteads and great runs of the interior, with the natural result that there was a large and steady increase in the output of wool, hides, tallow, wheat and other land products.

The huge Liverpool emigrant ships, however, were not fitted for the economical transport of these products to their central market in London. They were too big for one thing, for, in those early days, wool and tallow dribbled into the big ports in small amounts; also the repair bills of these soft-wood clippers were an ever increasing item to put against their freight receipts.

Thus it came about that the wonderful American-built ships dropped out of the running. But their London rivals, the beautiful British-built hard-wood ships of half their size, having no heavy repair bills, being splendidly built of that imperishable wood teak, and being able to fill up their small holds quickly, continued to carry passengers outward and wool homeward until supplanted in their turn by the magnificent iron clippers of the Clyde, Liverpool and Aberdeen.

The London Wool Sales.

These were the days when great races home from Australia took place—not only did ship race against ship, but it was the aim and object of every skipper to get his ship home in time for the first wool sales in London. And in the wool trade, unlike the custom in the tea trade, the fastest ships were loaded last—the pride of place—that of being the last ship to leave an Australasian port for the London wool sales being reserved for that which was considered the fastest ship in the trade.

In the eighties, when the tea trade was entirely in the hands of the steamers, this pride of place in Sydney was always kept for Willis’ famous clipper, Cutty Sark, no other ship, either wood or iron built, being able to rival her passages both out and home in the wool trade.

The London wool sales took place in January, February and March, and the lists of the first sales were closed as soon as a sufficient number of cargoes had arrived or been reported in the Channel. Thus it was the aim of every skipper to get reported as soon as possible after reaching the Channel, as the cargoes of ships reported in the Channel by noon on the opening day of the sales were included in the sale lists. Whereas if a captain missed the sales, his cargo would have to be warehoused for perhaps two or three months until the next sales, thus involving extra expenses such as warehouse charges, loss of interest, etc., not to speak of the possibility of a fall in the price of wool.

In those days signal stations were not as numerous on our coasts as they are now, and so wool clippers on arriving in the Channel kept a specially sharp look-out for fishing smacks or pilot cutters to take their reports on shore. Occasionally the captains of the late-starting, crack ships were promised substantial cheques if they caught the sales and truly it was money well earned.

The Lost Art of the Stevedore.

In the present days of steam, steel and water ballast, stevedoring is no longer the fine art which it used to be in the days of masts and yards, clipper keels and oak frames.

As every sailor knows, no two ships are alike, even when built from the same moulds; and though this is the case with every water-borne vessel, it is specially noticeable with that almost living thing—the sailing ship. Not only does every sailing ship have its own character as regards its stability, but its character often changes with age, etc., and no tables can give the exact way in which its cargo should be loaded as regards weights and trim. The hand books on the subject give rough, general rules, but the captain of a ship, from his own first hand knowledge of his ship’s peculiarities, would always give careful instructions to the stevedore as to how he wanted the weights of the cargo placed or distributed.

So first of all the old time stevedore had to load his ship in accordance with her own particular character and the wishes of her captain. Next he had to be an expert packer, especially with a wooden ship with a hold cut up by big oak frames and knees. No space was wasted. There is an old story told of a stevedore loading the little Tasmanian barque Harriet McGregor, who sang out to his mate on the wharf, “Sling us down a box of pickles, Bill!” Then the stevedore had all sorts of goods in a general cargo, some of which could not be stowed near each other, such as soda, which melts at sea and destroys cottons, etc. Also washed wool, leather, flour or wheat would be damaged if stowed with tallow and greasy wool. Other goods could only be stowed in the hatches, such as cases of glass, whilst wine and spirits had to be stowed aft to be out of the way of the crew.

Instances have been known also of ships coming home from Australia with their iron masts packed full of bullocks’ horns, shank and knuckle bones, which were more generally used for broken stowage.

An amusing case with regard to bullocks’ horns and knuckle bones happened on one of Carmichael’s ships, through the mate signing the bills of lading without examining them. He signed for so many horns, so many shank bones and so many knuckle bones loose. On arrival in London the consignee sent a lighter for the horns, and intimated that he wanted the shank bones delivered entirely separate from the knuckle bones. Carmichael’s got out of it by some very plain speaking, the mate’s receipts proving that a fraud had been attempted.

Bags of pearl shell were generally used in Sydney to fill up cargo near the hatches; and I find in July, 1868, that the Jerusalem, (Captain Largie) shipped 9 tons of mother-of-pearl shell at Melbourne in small casks and 3-foot cases.

Below are specimens of early cargoes home from Australia in the sixties, with port charges, pilotage dues, etc.

The ship Omar Pasha, Captain Thomas Henry, belonging to Messrs. G. Thompson, Sons & Co., of Aberdeen, took in at Melbourne, in October, 1864:—

3550 bales of wool,
80 casks of tallow,
14,000 hides,
20 tons spelter,
4000 ounces of gold

and 12 cabin passengers. With the above she drew 19 ft. aft and 18 ft. 9 in. forward, her best trim at sea. The ballast of stones, spelter and hides was estimated at 430 tons. The wool was screwed in; and the dunnage, stones and horns, was 12 inches thick in the bottom and 15 inches in the bilges. Port charges were 1s. per ton; pilotage in £28 18s. 6d.; out £28 18s. 6d.

The ship Transatlantic, Captain Philip, belonging to Messrs. G. Thompson, Junr., & Co., of London, took in at Sydney, June, 1864:—

1360 bales of wool,
135 casks of tallow,
5300 hides,
300 bags and 40 cases Kauri gum,
50 tons of iron bark timber.

She had no ballast. Dunnage wood in the bottom 9 inches, bilges 12 inches, one treenail between the wool and the sides. So laden, she drew 14½ ft. aft, 14 ft. forward. Her best sea trim was 6 inches by the stern. Port charges at Sydney, customs entry and shipping office £4 4s.; pilotage out 4d. per ton; the same in.

The ship Queen of Nations, Captain Thomas Mitchell, belonging to Messrs. G. Thompson & Co., left Sydney on 21st September, 1865, loaded with:—

484 bales of wool,
44 bales of cotton,
1037 casks of cocoanut oil,
219 casks of tallow,
2602 ingots and plates of copper,
62 tons of gum,
9452 hides.

For ballast she had 30 tons of kentledge; dunnage, treenails and bones, 12 inches in the bottom, 18 in the bilges and 6 in the sides. The hides were laid from two beams abaft the foremast to the mizen mast; oil on the hides, with a tier of tallow between; the wool, cotton, gum, etc., in the ’tween decks. Her best trim was 9 inches by the stern. So laden she drew 18 ft. forward and 18½ ft. aft. Pilotage in £142s.; out £142s.

The Murray, under the command of Captain J. Legoe, belonging to Anderson’s Orient Line, left Adelaide in December, 1863, loaded with:—

3182 bales of wool,
19,522 ingots of copper,
1590 bags of silver lead ore,
473 bags of copper ore,
35 boxes silver lead ore,
15 bales of leather,
277 calf skins,
1150 horns,
16 cases and 10 casks of wine.

She had a full complement of passengers, who occupied 250 tons of cargo space. So laden she drew 15½ ft. forward and 16 ft. 2 in. aft, her best draught for sailing being 15 ft. forward and 15 ft. 8 in. aft. Port charges, harbour dues and light and tonnage dues £28 11s. 6d.; pilotage in and out £17.

Screwing Wool.

As every sailorman knows, wool is screwed into a ship’s hold like cotton; and a good captain in the old days would see that his ship was jammed so tight with bales that one would think her seams would open—indeed wood and composite ships always used to have their decks and topsides well caulked before loading wool. As showing how much the amount of wool loaded depended upon the captain, Captain Woodget used to get 1000 bales more into the Cutty Sark than his predecessor. He made a habit of spending most of the day in the ship’s hold and thought nothing of having a tier or half longer pulled down and restowed if he was not satisfied with the number of bales got in.

You can dunnage casks o’ tallow; you can handle hides an’ horn;
You can carry frozen mutton; you can lumber sacks o’ corn;
But the queerest kind o’ cargo that you’ve got to haul and pull
Is Australia’s “staple product”—is her God-abandoned wool.
For it’s greasy an’ it’s stinkin’, an’ them awkward, ugly bales
Must be jammed as close as herrings in a ship afore she sails.
For it’s twist the screw and turn it,
And the bit you get you earn it;
You can take the tip from me, sir, that it’s anything but play
When you’re layin’ on the screw,
When you’re draggin’ on the screw,
In the summer, under hatches, in the middle o’ the day.

So sings the Australian sailor’s poet Brady.

In the sixties the bales of wool were pressed on shore by hydraulic power, then lashed with manila or New Zealand hemp, or hoop iron, at the ship’s expense. The bales were generally pressed on their flats, but sometimes, for the sake of stowage, on their ends, when they were called “dumps.” They had to be stowed immediately after being pressed, as if left for any time, especially in the sun, the wool would swell and carry away the lashings. There were from 8 to 12 lashings for each package of Sydney wool, which were called single dumps, doubles, trebles and fourbles, according to the number lashed together, trebles being the most common.

The actual loading of a wool cargo was a slowish process, and sometimes attended with danger to the stowers if great care was not used, as wool bales have great elasticity. A description of the uses of screws, sampson posts, trunk planks, toms, shores, etc., would, I fear, be so technical as to be wearisome.

One of the chief dangers in a wool cargo is spontaneous combustion. This caused the end of several fine ships, such as the Fiery Star and the new Orient liner Aurora. Spontaneous combustion was likely to happen if the bales were wet or damp, either when loaded or through contact with other damp cargo, dunnage, ballast or even sweating water tanks. Often enough the wool got a wetting on its way to the ship, and though possibly afterwards sun-dried on the outside of the bales, so that to all appearances it was perfectly dry, was really damp inside and very inflammable. Some Australian wool growers contended that the practice of clipping sheep in the morning when the fleeces were heavy with dew was a cause of spontaneous combustion.

Wool, of course, being a very light cargo, requires stiffening, but hides, tallow, etc., were generally used as deadweight, also copper ore. A ship with a wool cargo was reckoned to require two-thirds of the ballast necessary when in ballast only. Wool freights in the early days were 1d. per lb., and gradually fell to a farthing per lb.—this was for washed wool: the freight for greasy wool, which had not been cleaned and was therefore heavier than washed wool, being about 25% less.

The Aberdeen White Star Line.

Amongst the pioneers of the trade with the Colonies George Thompson, of the Aberdeen Clipper Line, known to generations of Australians as the Aberdeen White Star Line, holds a foremost place. The history of this celebrated firm dates back to the year 1825, when its first representative, a clipper brig of 116 tons named the Childe Harold, was sent afloat.

It may safely be said that from that hour the Aberdeen White Star Line has never looked back. From the first it earned a reputation for enterprise and good management. Amongst its fleet were numbered some of the earliest clipper ships built in the United Kingdom, ships whose records were worthy to rank with those of the celebrated Black Ball and White Star Lines; and which in their liberal upkeep had little to learn from even such aristocrats of the sea as the Blackwall frigates.

Until the discovery of gold, the green clippers ran regularly to Sydney, but when all the world began to take ship for Melbourne, the port of the gold region, it was only natural that some of the Aberdeen White Star ships should be put on the Melbourne run, and from that date the little flyers from Aberdeen were as well known in Hobson’s Bay as Sydney Cove.

The ships were all built in the yard of Walter Hood, of Aberdeen, in whose business Messrs. Thompson held a large interest, and were all designed by Walter Hood with the exception of the celebrated Thermopylae.

George Thompson, who founded the line, was joined, in 1850, by his son-in-law the late Sir William Henderson, and later on Mr. Thompson’s sons, Stephen, George and Cornelius, came by turns into the partnership.

The following is a complete list of the wood and composite ships of the Aberdeen White Star fleet, dating from 1842:—

List of the Wood and Composite Ships of the Aberdeen White Star Fleet.

1842

Neptune,

wood ship 343 tons.
1842

Prince of Wales

„ „ 582 „
1846

Oliver Cromwell

„ „ 530 „
1846

Phoenician

„ „ 530 „
1849

John Bunyan

„ „ 470 „
1850

Centurion

„ „ 639 „
1852

Woolloomoolloo

„ „ 627 „
1852

Walter Hood

„ „ 936 „
1853

Maid of Judah

„ „ 756 „
1854

Omar Pasha

„ „ 1124 „
1855

Star of Peace

„ „ 1113 „
1856

Wave of Life

„ „ 887 „
1857

Damascus

„ „ 964 „
1857

Transatlantic

„ „ 614 „
1858

Moravian

„ „ 996 „
1860

Strathdon

„ „ 1011 „
1861

Queen of Nations

„ „ 872 „
1862

Kosciusko

„ „ 1192 „
1864

Nineveh

„ „ 1174 „
1864

Ethiopian

„ „ 839 „
1865

George Thompson

„ „ 1128 „
1866

Christiana Thompson

„ „ 1079 „
1866

Harlaw

„ „ 894 „
1867

Thyatira

comp. ship 962 „
1867

Jerusalem

wood ship 901 „
1868

Thermopylae

comp. ship 948 „
1868

Ascalon

wood ship 938 „
1869

Centurion

comp. ship 965 „
1870

Aviemore

wood ship 1091 „

No ships that ever sailed the seas presented a finer appearance than these little flyers. They were always beautifully kept and were easily noticeable amongst other ships for their smartness: indeed, when lying in Sydney Harbour or Hobson’s Bay with their yards squared to a nicety, their green sidesB with gilt streak and scroll work at bow and stern glistening in the sun, their figure-heads, masts, spars and blocks all painted white and every rope’s end flemish-coiled on snow-white decks, they were the admiration of all who saw them.

There’s a jaunty White Star Liner, and her decks are scrubbed and clean
And her tall white spars are spotless, and her hull is painted green.
Don’t you smell the smoky stingo? Ech! ye’ll ken the Gaelic lingo
Of the porridge-eating person who was shipped in Aberdeen.

—Brady.

From the first to the last they were hard-sailed ships, and some of the fastest were often sent across to China for a home cargo of tea, though the Thermopylae was the only bona-fide tea clipper in the fleet.

On the outward passage, whether to Sydney or Melbourne, they generally carried a few first-class passengers, but it was only during the very height of the gold rush that their ’tween decks were given up to a live freight.

The “Phoenician.”

The first of the Aberdeen White Star fleet to make a reputation for speed was the celebrated Phoenician, under the command of one of the best known passage makers of the day, Captain Sproat.

Her dimensions were:—

Length of cut keel

122 feet.

Rake of stem

25

Rake of sternpost

7

Extreme breadth

27 feet 5 inches.

Depth of hold

19 „ 1 „

Registered tonnage (old)

526 tons.
„ „ (new) 478

Deadweight capacity

780

Her first three voyages were considered extraordinarily good for those days.

  • 1849-50 London to Sydney 90 days—Sydney to London 88 days.
  • 1850-51 London to Sydney 96 days—Sydney to London 103 days.
  • 1851-52 London to Sydney 90 days—Sydney to London 83 days.

The John Bunyan in 1850 made the run home from Shanghai in 99 days, which, even though she had a favourable monsoon, was a very fine performance.

The Walter Hood on her maiden voyage under the command of Captain Sproat made the passage out to Australia in 80 days, and the account given in the papers remarks:—“Her sailing qualities may be judged from the fact of her having run during four several days 320 miles each 24 hours.”

The Maid of Judah had the honour of taking out the Royal Mint to Sydney in 1853. Her dimensions are interesting to compare with those of the Phoenician, so I give them:—

Length of keel

160 feet.

Length over all

190

Beam

31

Depth of hold

19

The Queen of Nations, under Captain Donald, went from Plymouth to Melbourne in 87 and 84 days; but the fastest of these earlier clippers was the well-known Star of Peace, which made four consecutive passages to Sydney of 77, 77, 79, and 79 days under the redoubtable Captain Sproat.

I remember seeing a picture of this fine clipper, representing her off the Eddystone when homeward bound. She was a very rakish looking craft with long overhangs and carried a heavy press of sail, which included double topsails, skysails, main and mizen sky staysails and also three-cornered moonsails stretching to the truck of each mast.

The Ethiopian, on her first voyage to Melbourne, went out in 68 days under Captain William Edward. She sailed her last voyage under the British flag in 1886. She was then rigged as a barque, and on her passage home from Sydney had a remarkable race with the iron Orontes, belonging to the same owners. The two vessels cast off their tugs together outside Sydney Heads, sighted each other off the Horn, were becalmed together in the doldrums, spoke the same ship off the Western Isles; and when the chops of the Channel were reached, the Ethiopian was hove to taking soundings in a fog, when the Orontes came up under her stern within hailing distance. Finally the Ethiopian got into the East India Docks one tide ahead of the Orontes, thus winning the race and a considerable sum in wagers.

The Lucky “Nineveh.”

The Nineveh, built the same year as the Ethiopian, was an extremely lucky ship in her freights and passengers and made a great deal of money. Old Stephen Thompson was so pleased that he gave Captain Barnet a banquet at the Holborn Restaurant, and all through the dinner kept toasting “the lucky Nineveh.”

The “Jerusalem.”

These wooden clippers were often very tender coming home with wool, as the following reminiscence given by Coates in his Good Old Days of Shipping will show:—“Apropos of Jerusalem, I remember a most exciting race with the large American ship Iroquois. We were homeward bound from the Colonies, flying light and very crank, a not uncommon condition with a wool cargo. The Yank was first sighted on our quarter, the wind being quarterly, blowing moderately, though squally at times.

“Whilst the wind remained so the Iroquois had no chance, but when it freshened the Jerusalem heeled over to such an extent that it necessitated sail being taken in. Soon the American was ploughing along to leeward carrying her three topgallant sails and whole mainsail and going as steady as a die, whilst the Jerusalem was flying along with fore and main lower topgallants and reefed mainsail, but heeling over to such a degree that one could barely stand upright, the water roaring up through the lee scuppers, and during the squalls lipping in over the rail.

“In a short time the topgallant sails and mainsail were handed and preparations made to reef the fore topsail. By this time, however, the Iroquois had just passed the beam, when, apparently, her skipper, satisfied to have passed us, snugged his ship down to three reefed topsails and we shortly after lost sight of her in a blinding squall.”

And Coates goes on to say:—“To see this ship when moderately light was a great pleasure, her lines were the perfection of symmetry. In one day I remember 324 miles being got out of this ship; she was one of the first to carry double topgallant yards.”

As a matter of fact, the Jerusalem was generally considered the fastest ship in the fleet next to Thermopylae. She made several very good passages from China in the seventies of under 110 days. Captain Crutchley, in his book My Life at Sea, gives an instance of her speed, in describing how she raced ahead of the tea clipper Omba, both ships being bound up the Channel with a strong beam wind. On this occasion, however, it was the Omba which was the tender ship, as she could not carry her royals though the Jerusalem had all plain sail set.

The Thyatira, Thompson’s first composite ship, was also a very ticklish vessel to handle when wool-laden. On her maiden voyage she went out to Melbourne in 77 days, but took 96 days to get home, during which passage she gave her officers much anxiety owing to her extreme tenderness.

Captain Mark Breach’s First Encounter with his Owner.

Captain Mark Breach, one of the best known of the Aberdeen White Star captains, entered the employ of the firm as second mate on the newly launched Thyatira. The Thyatira was on the berth for Melbourne when he joined her. On his second day aboard he was superintending the stowage of cargo in the hold, when old Stephen Thompson came down to have a look round. The Thyatira’s owner happened to be smoking a fine meerschaum pipe, and young Breach, being completely ignorant of the identity of the visitor, immediately went up to him and informed him in no uncertain language that his lighted pipe was dead against all rules and regulations. Mr. Thompson, without disclosing his identity, at once apologised and returned his pipe to its case. Presently when the visitor had departed, the mate asked Mr. Breach what he had been talking to Mr. Thompson about. And one may well imagine that the new second mate was somewhat scared when he learnt that it was his owner to whom he had been laying down the law. However, the mate comforted him by telling him that Stephen Thompson had been very pleased and prophesied that he would be a good servant to the company.

Mark Breach afterwards served as mate of the Miltiades, then commanded the Jerusalem, Aviemore, and finally the famous Patriarch.

The Thyatira was a very favourite ship and made some very good passages. She and the Jerusalem both loaded tea home from China on more than one occasion, and made passages of under 110 days in the N.E. monsoon.

The “Thermopylae.”

Thermopylae’s career I have already dealt with fully in the China Clippers. Her sail plan was cut down twice in her old age, thus taking off a good deal of her speed in light weather, but even then there were not many vessels which could give her the go-by, either in light or heavy weather.

The “Centurion.”

The second Centurion was launched in the spring of 1869, and measured:—Length 208 ft.; beam 35 ft.; depth 21 ft. Captain Mitchell overlooked her building and was her first commander. She was a very fast ship and he always hoped to beat the Thermopylae with her, but never succeeded.

On her first voyage she went out to Sydney in 69 days. It was a light weather passage and she never started the sheets of her main topgallant sail the whole way. She is stated to have made 360, 348 and 356 miles in three successive days running down her easting, but I have been unable to verify these runs. Captain Mitchell died on her second voyage just before reaching the Channel homeward bound. She also made some creditable tea passages, but was mostly kept in the Sydney trade. In 1871 she went out in 77 days and in 1872 in 78 days.

The “Aviemore.”

The Aviemore was the last of the wooden ships, and at the date of her launch, the first iron ship built for Thompsons, the celebrated Patriarch, had already proved herself such a success as to put all idea of building any but iron ships in the future out of the question.

The Fate of the Early White Star Clippers.

The first Centurion ended her days as a total loss in 1866.

The Walter Hood was wrecked near Jervis Bay Lighthouse, New South Wales, on 27th April, 1870, when bound from London to Sydney with general cargo, her captain and 12 men being drowned.

The Woolloomoolloo ended her days under the Spanish flag and was wrecked in 1885.

The Maid of Judah was sold to Cowlislaw Bros., of Sydney, in 1870. In December, 1879, she left Sydney for Shanghai, coal-laden, with Captain Webb in command, and the following June was condemned and broken up at Amoy.

The Omar Pasha was burnt at sea in 1869, when homeward bound from Brisbane, wool-laden.

The celebrated Star of Peace, after being run for some years by Burns, Philp & Co., of Sydney, was converted into a hulk at Thursday Island, being only broken up in 1895.

The Wave of Life was sold to Brazil, and sailed as the Ida until 1891, when she was renamed Henriquita. Finally she was condemned and broken up in March, 1897.

The Damascus was bought by the Norwegians, who changed her name to Magnolia. On 1st September, 1893, she stranded at Bersimis and became a total loss.

The Transatlantic was rebuilt in 1876; in 1878 she was owned by J. L. Ugland, of Arendal; and on 15th October, 1899, when bound to Stettin from Mobile, she foundered in the Atlantic.

The Moravian was sold to J. E. Ives, of Sydney, and ended her days as a hulk, being broken up at Sydney in March, 1895.

The Strathdon, under the name of Zwerver, did many years’ service with the Peruvian flag at her gaff end. She was broken up in 1888.

The Queen of Nations was wrecked near Woolloagong, New South Wales, on 31st May, 1881, when bound out to Sydney. All hands were saved except one.

The Kosciusko, like the Maid of Judah, was bought by Cowlislaw Bros., being broken up at Canton in 1899.

The Nineveh was bought by Goodlet & Smith, of Sydney. She was abandoned in the North Pacific in February, 1896.

The Ethiopian was sold to the Norwegians. In October, 1894, when bound from St. Thomas to Cork, she was abandoned near the Western Isles. She was afterwards picked up 15 miles from Fayal and towed into St. Michael’s, where she was condemned.

The George Thompson passed through the hands of A. Nicol & Co., of Aberdeen, and J. Banfield, of Sydney, to the Chileans. On 13th June, 1902, she was wrecked at Carlemapu.

The Christiana Thompson went to the Norwegians and was renamed Beatrice Lines. She was wrecked near Umra in Norway on 7th October, 1899.

The Harlaw was wrecked at Hongkong in 1878.

The Jerusalem, like many of the others, was converted into a barque in her old age. In 1887 she was bought by the Norwegians. On 28th October, 1893, she left New Brunswick for London with a cargo of pitch-pine and resin and never arrived, the usual end of timber droghers on the stormy North Atlantic.

The Thyatira was bought by J. W. Woodside & Co., of Belfast, in 1894. In July, 1896, when bound from London to Rio with general cargo, she was wrecked at Pontal da Barra.

The Ascalon was bought by Trinder, Anderson & Co. in 1881. They ran her for nine years and then sold her to the Norwegians. She was wrecked on 7th February, 1907, at Annalong, when bound from Runcorn to Moss.

The second Centurion left Sydney for Newcastle, N.S.W., on 17th January, 1887; at 1.30 a.m. whilst off the Heads, the tug’s line carried away: the ship drifted on to the North Head, struck and then sank in 18 fathoms, barely giving her crew 15 minutes to get clear.

The Aviemore was bought by the Norwegians. In October, 1910, she left Sandejford for the South Shetland where she was converted into a floating oil refinery. Later she was resold to the Norwegians, and I have a snapshot of her taken in Bristol in 1915, rigged as a barque with a stump bowsprit.

Duthie’s Ships.

Another well-known Aberdeen firm which was a pioneer in the Australian trade was Duthies. They were builders as well as owners. The original William Duthie started his shipbuilding business over 100 years ago. Besides owning many of the ships he built, he was also a large timber merchant, and kept some vessels in the North American timber trade. He was also one of the first to send ships to the Chinchas and Peru for guano. He eventually turned over his shipbuilding business to his brothers John and Alexander, but retained his interest in some of the ships.

The first of Duthie’s ships of which I have any record is the Jane Pirie, of 427 tons, built in 1847 for the Calcutta trade and commanded by a well-known skipper of those days, Captain James Booth.

The next vessel to be launched by Duthie was the Brilliant in 1850. She measured 555 tons, and, commanded by Captain Murray and sailing under Duthie’s house-flag, she became a very popular passenger clipper in the time of the gold rush. On her first outward passage she went from London to Melbourne in 87 days, and this was about her average. She generally loaded wool for the London market at Geelong, and made the homeward run in under 90 days.

Few ships came home from the Antipodes in those days without gold dust on board; and the Brilliant on one occasion brought home 7 tons of gold, giving Captain Murray an anxious time until he had it safely handed over to the Bank of England. After a dozen years as a first class passenger and wool clipper the Brilliant was debased to the guano and nitrate trades, being finally lost at sea when homeward bound from Callao with a cargo of guano.

The next of Duthie’s ships was the James Booth, of 636 tons, named after the celebrated captain. She was launched in 1851 for the Calcutta trade.

In 1852 Duthie built the Ballarat, 713 tons, for the great shipowner Duncan Dunbar. The Ballarat distinguished herself by coming home from Melbourne in 69 days in 1855. All these early ships had the famous Aberdeen clipper bow and painted ports, and ably maintained the high reputation of the Aberdeen clipper.

In the sixties Messrs. Duthie launched the following well-known wool clippers, all called after various members of the family:—

1862

William Duthie

wood ship 968 tons.
1863

Martha Birnie

„ „ 832 „
1864

John Duthie

„ „ 1031 „
1867

Alexander Duthie

„ „ 1159 „
1868

Ann Duthie

„ „ 994 „

The ships were all three skysail yarders, and good passage makers; they were kept almost entirely in the Sydney trade, and must have made good dividends in those early days. The John Duthie on one occasion made £5000 freight for the wool passage home. Her commander at that time was Captain Levi, a very well-known character, who always offered a glass of Scotch and an apple to any visitor who came aboard his ship.

The next Duthie ship was the Abergeldie, of 1152 tons. She was their first ship with iron in her composition, having iron beams. She was launched in 1869, the same year as the Windsor Castle, a beautiful little wood ship of 979 tons, which Duthie built for Donaldson Rose. This Windsor Castle must not be confused with Green’s Blackwall frigate of the same name. For some years both ships were trading to Sydney, and one year there was more than a little confusion owing to the two Windsor Castles arriving out on the same day. Duthie’s Windsor Castle made many fine passages both out and home, her best known commander being Captain Fernie. After being sold her name was changed to Lumberman’s Lassie, and under this name she was for many years a well-known Colonial trader, and finally a coal hulk.

Passages of Aberdeen Ships to Sydney, 1872-1873.

The best passage made out to Sydney between these dates was that of the iron tea clipper Halloween on her maiden voyage. She left the Thames on 1st July, 1872, crossed the line in 27° W. on the 20th, 19 days out, crossed the meridian of the Cape on 10th August, 40 days out, ran her easting down in 42° and arrived in Sydney on 8th September, 69 days out.

Another very famous Aberdeen ship, the Star of Peace, left London, 21st September, 1873, and arrived at Melbourne on 16th December, 86 days out.

This little table will perhaps give a good idea of the usual passages made by the wood and composite built ships.

Ship Sailed Crossed
Equator
in
Long.
Crossed
Meridian
of Cape
Ran
Easting
Down
in Lat.
Arrived D’ys
Out
1872 ° °

Thyatira

Feb. 23 Mar. 20 22 W April 25 42 S May 23 89

Ann Duthie

Mar. 5 „ 25 27 48 „ 24 80

Ascalon

„ 5 April 2 23 April 30 41 June 7 94

Maid of Judah

„ 21 „ 18 22 May 21 „ 23 94

Centurion

April 18 May 10 22 June 8 39 July 5 78

John Duthie

June 4 June 30 27 July 28 42 Aug. 29 86

Strathdon

July 8 Aug. 14 26 Sept. 9 45 Oct. 25 109

William Duthie

„ 16 „ 17 27 „ 15 44 „ 31 107

Ethiopian

„ 25 „ 29 21 „ 31 98
1873

Harlaw

Feb. 5 Feb. 25 23 Mar. 22 45 April 29 83

Nineveh

„ 11 Mar. 8 21 April 3 44 May 1 79

Aviemore

Mar. 14 „ 29 23 May 28 45 June 4 82

Abergeldie

July 7 Sept. 1 42 Oct. 2 87

The South Australian Trade.

During the sixties and seventies, when Sydney and Melbourne were filling their harbours with the finest ships in the British Mercantile Marine, Adelaide, in a smaller way, was carrying on an ever increasing trade of her own, in which some very smart little clippers were making very good money and putting up sailing records which could well bear comparison with those made by the more powerful clippers sailing to Hobson’s Bay and Port Jackson.

From the early fifties South Australia had been sending wool home in exchange for general cargoes from London.

This trade was in the hands of two or three well-run firms, such as the Orient, Devitt & Moore and Elder. These firms owned some beautiful little composite ships, which up till now have received scant notice in the annals of our Mercantile Marine. These little clippers, most of them well under 1000 tons register, were driven as hard as any Black Ball or White Star crack, and this without the incentive of publicity.

Their captains, however, were always in keen rivalry and put a high value on their reputations as desperate sail carriers. They made little of weather that would have scared men who commanded ships of three times the tonnage of the little Adelaide clippers, and they were not afraid of a little water on deck—indeed, when running down the easting, their ships were more like half-tide rocks than merchant vessels, being swept from end to end by every roaring sea; and even in only a fresh breeze their decks were hidden by a curtain of spray.

It was a common saying that they took a dive on leaving the tropics, came up to breathe at the Cape and did not reappear again till off Cape Borda. A South Australian trader prided himself on carrying a main topgallant sail when other ships were snugged down to reefed topsails; and he considered that he had made a bad passage if he was not up with Cape Borda in 70 days. Indeed he usually began to look for the Australian coast about the 60th day out, and if he was at sea for much longer than that without raising the land would begin to think that he had overrun his distance and got into the Gulf of St. Vincent.

It is not surprising, therefore, that the crews of these vessels rarely knew what it was to have a dry shirt on their backs, and usually had had more than enough of it by the time they were off Kangaroo Island; thus it was the general thing for them to run on arrival.

The late Mr. Barry wrote the following interesting account of the usual homeward bound crew on a South Australian wool clipper:—“They loaded some of the golden fleece at the Port and the rest perhaps at Port Augusta at the head of Spencer’s Gulf. There one could see at times quite a clump of pretty little clippers lying in the stream between the mangrove-clad shores, waiting for the camel trains to come in from Pekina and Coonatto and Mount Remarkable. Much rivalry there was too between the ships, as to which should get her hatches battened down first, complete her crew and clear away for the February wool sales. And men in those days were not always easy to procure, for the long, cold Cape Horn passage and the prospect of shipping again out of London at 50s. per month were not very tempting experiences. Thus it often happened crews ran in Port Adelaide and ‘runners’ or temporary hands, just shipped for the trip, had to be engaged to take the vessel round to Port Augusta. These returning by the Penola or the Royal Shepherd or the Aldinga left the shipmasters to trust in providence for men to work the vessels home. But, now and again, bushmen coming down country for a spree at ‘the Port’, a mere hamlet, consisting then mainly of gnats, sand and galvanized iron, would be induced, once their money was gone, to sign articles for the trip home. Men who had never thought to use the sea again, bullock drovers, boundary riders, shepherds and station hands of every description were thus often found on board the clippers of the composite wool fleet. Many of them had not been to sea for years; but before they had got the smell of ice in their nostrils all the old tricks of the craft came back to them and better crowds no skipper could wish for, if at times apt to be a little intolerant and careless of discipline, with the liberal life of the bush so close behind them.

“A hard experience, too, it generally proved for them, quite unprovided as they (for the most part) were with a sea-going outfit of any description and dependent on the often scantily supplied slop chest. And many a time when washing along the decks in icy Cape Horn seas or hoisting the frozen canvas aloft, while hail and rain pelted and soaked them, poorly fed, poorly clad, the merest sport of the bitter southern weather, they regretted with oaths deep and sincere their snug bunks and ‘all night in’ of the far away bush stations, where tempests troubled them not and the loud command of ‘all hands’ was unknown. Nor, as a rule, London Town once reached, did they lose any time in looking for a ship bound to some part of the country they had so foolishly left.”

The Orient Line.

Of the firms which were chiefly instrumental in exploiting the South Australian trade first mention should perhaps be made of the Orient Line of clippers, the forerunners of the present Orient Line of steamers.

The Orient Line was originally started by James Thompson & Co., who had a number of small ships and barques trading to the West Indies, then Mr. James Anderson joined the firm and eventually became head partner, upon which the name was changed to Anderson, Anderson & Co.

The first of the firm’s Australian ships was the Orient and this vessel gave her name to the line.

The Orient Line were nothing if not enterprising. Most of their vessels were built in the Nelson Docks, Rotherhithe, to the designs of Mr. Bilbe. Mr. Bilbe was a designer of great ability and he and Mr. Perry, an old shipmaster, were the working partners of the Nelson Dock, which consisted of a dry dock and a building yard, owned by Anderson, Anderson & Co. Mr. James Anderson had a wonderful knowledge of everything pertaining to ships and their business, and like many an old-fashioned shipowner took a practical interest in his ships, and nothing either in their design, construction or management was undertaken without his approval.

Messrs. Bilbe & Perry built one of the earliest composite clippers, the Red Riding Hood. She was launched in 1857 some six years before the first of the composite tea clippers. They also went in for iron ships at an early date, their first iron ship, the White Eagle, being built as far back as 1855. But owing chiefly to a very ill-advised strike of shipwrights, the Thames builders found themselves unable to compete with the North in iron shipbuilding and the Clyde took the trade which should have belonged to the Thames. Thus 1866 saw the last of the Thames composites to be built in the Nelson Dock when Argonaut was launched for the Adelaide trade.

However, Messrs. Anderson, Anderson & Co. meant to have the fastest ships procurable, and gave Hall, of Aberdeen, Steele, of Greenock and the Sunderland shipyards each a chance to turn them out a flyer.

The “Orient.”

The Orient, the pioneer of the line, was launched at Rotherhithe in 1853, and measured:—

She was built to participate in the gold boom to Melbourne, and was fitted to carry passengers under a poop 61 feet long. However she was not destined to start life on the Australian run, for she had barely been launched before she was taken up by the Government for the transport of troops to the Crimea. At the landing at Alma in September, 1854, she was transport No. 78, carrying the 88th Connaught Rangers. She managed to ride out the gale of the 14th November, 1854, off Balaclava, in which 34 of the Allied ships were wrecked and over 1000 lives lost. And in October, 1855, we find her acting as a hospital ship during the expedition against Kinburn and Odessa. In 1856 she returned to London and was then put on the berth for Adelaide. She sailed from Plymouth under Captain A. Lawrence on the 5th July, 1856, with a full passenger list, and hence forward was a favourite passenger ship in the South Australian trade.

“Orient’s” Outward Passages.

The following table gives her time out for twenty-one voyages under the Orient flag. She generally took about 95 days coming home via the Cape, calling in at Capetown and St. Helena, as it was the custom with ships carrying passengers.

“ORIENT.”
Arriving at Gibraltar with Troops from the Crimea.

From a lithograph.

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Date. Captain. Date Left
London.
Date Left
Plymouth.
Date Arrd.
Port
Adelaide.
Days
Out
1856 A. Lawrence June 28 July 5 Sept. 24 81
1857 „ 28 „ 2 „ 22 82
1858 „ 28 „ 4 „ 18 76
1859 „ 28 „ 2 „ 23 83
1860 May 29 June 5 Aug.24 80
1861 „ 26 „ 1 „ 20 80
1862 Harris „ 27 „ 2 „ 24 83
1863 May 1 July12 73
1864 May 29 June 2 Aug. 22 81
1865 April 29 May 4 July 20 77
1866 Sept. 10 Sept. 16 Nov. 27 72
1868 R. de Steiger Oct. 31 Nov. 6 Jan. 26 81
1869 Aug. 29 Sept. 1 Nov. 24 84
1870 Sept. 17 „ 22 Dec. 17 86
1871 Aug. 28 „ 2 Nov. 27 86
1872 W. H. Mitchell Nov. 4 Nov. 7 Jan. 27 81
1873 Sept. 28 Dec. 16 79
1874 July 25 Downs 27 Oct. 19 84
1875 „ 22 Downs 25 „ 16 83
1876 M. Haffner „ 23 „ 11 80
1877 Aug. 21 Dec. 3 104

“Orient” Nearly Destroyed by Fire.

On 3rd November, 1861, the Orient left Adelaide with 2600 bales of wool, some copper ore and several passengers. Touching at the Cape she left Table Bay on 18th December. On the morning of 2nd January, smoke was observed to be rising from the fore hatch. Captain Lawrence at once had the lower deck hatches lifted fore and aft, but there was no smoke in the hold, which seemed to prove that the fire was confined to the ’tween decks. The hands were turned to breaking out cargo, but were driven from the fore hold after getting to the third beam aft of the hatchway. The mainsail was then hauled up and the fore hatches put on to prevent a current of air. The main hatchway was then opened and an attempt made to break out the cargo from that hatch, but again the crew were driven back. The hatches were next battened down and every aperture closed. The carpenter was then ordered to bore holes in the deck. He started in the galley and gradually worked forward until he was over the seat of the fire. On this being found the fire engine, condensing engine and every other means was brought into use for pouring water below; and as fast as it went down it was sucked up again by the ship’s pumps. The deck ports and scupper holes, also, were closed and the deck itself kept some inches deep in water.

Whilst the crew fought the fire, the passengers, under the direction of the bosun, provisioned and lowered the boats and streamed them astern. At 5 p.m. dense smoke began to issue from the scuttle under the fore chains, the woodwork was charred, and the glass bull’s-eye melted. The scuttles were immediately plugged and the deck cut through at this place. The result was startling. Smoke and flames burst out in volumes. All night long the crew kept doggedly at the pumps and fire engine. Next day the women passengers were all transferred to a Dutch ship which stood by the burning Orient. At last the fire was smothered and on the 5th January the Orient arrived at Ascension, where a large portion of the cargo was taken out and examined. She was temporarily repaired and then proceeded, and arrived safely in the London River.

Twelve of her timbers were so charred that they had to be replaced, together with the planking of the main deck as far aft as the main hatch. The saving of this ship was a very fine performance and the underwriters presented Captain Lawrence with a piece of plate worth £100, and also £800 for himself, officers and crew. The steadiness and discipline of both passengers and crew were worthy of all praise, and undoubtedly saved the ship.

The “Orient” delivers her Carpenter’s Chest to the “Lammermuir” in Mid-Ocean.

In 1872 the Orient was diagonally sheathed, and Captain Mitchell took command of her.

In 1873 the Orient was just about to leave London for Adelaide, when old John Willis, with his frock-coat flying open and his white hat on the back of his head, came aboard and said to Captain Mitchell: “The carpenter of my Lammermuir has left his tool chest and tools behind; will you take them out to Adelaide and deliver them to him.”

“No,” replied Captain Mitchell, who was a skipper of the good old sort, “but I will take them and deliver them before I reach the line.”

The Lammermuir had sailed some 10 days before on the 12th of September to be exact. Old John Willis immediately offered to bet Captain Mitchell £5 that he would not be as good as his word. The bet was accepted and the Orient sailed on 28th September. In 5° N. a ship was sighted ahead and overhauled. It turned out to be the Lammermuir. Signals were exchanged, and a boat put over with the chest on board, and the Lammermuir’s carpenter duly received his tools as Captain Mitchell had promised. The two ships then parted company and the Orient eventually arrived at Adelaide on the 16th December, 79 days out, the Lammermuir arriving six days later.

It was a great triumph, and the apprentices of the Orient composed a pumping chanty to the tune of “Marching through Georgia” to commemorate it, the first verse of which ran as follows:—

The Lammermuir left London, boys,
A fortnight’s start she’d got,
She was bound to Adelaide,
Her passage to be short,
But the Orient overhauled her
Before halfway she’d got
As we were sailing to Australia.

In 1879 the Orient was sold to Cox Bros., of Waterford, and she was still afloat quite recently as a coal hulk at Gibraltar.

The Little “Heather Bell.”

In 1855 Hall, of Aberdeen, built the little Heather Bell for Brown & Co., from whom the Orient Line bought her. Her measurements were:—

Registered tonnage 479 tons.
Length 155 feet.
Beam 28.5
Depth 17.5

She was not one of the South Australian traders, however, but ran regularly to Sydney and Melbourne. She made herself famous by a wonderful run home from Melbourne under Captain William Harmsworth. She left Port Phillip Heads on 15th October, 1856, with a strong easterly wind and took the route down the West Coast of Tasmania. In spite of five days of easterly gales, she made the passage to the Horn in 26 days. The record for this run was made by the Lightning in 1854, being 19 days. Heather Bell ran from the Horn to the line in 21 days. This was a record, and considered such a remarkable performance that it was pricked off on old South Atlantic charts. And so far as I know, it has only been twice beaten, once by the Cutty Sark and once by the Thomas Stephens. Heather Bell made the land at Start Point 20 days from the line, thus making a passage of 67 days. Her best 24-hour run was 330 miles, and her best week’s work was 1885 miles. Of course she had great luck with her winds, but, even so, she proved herself a very speedy little ship.

Heather Bell had a long life of 39 years, and was finally broken up at Balmain, Sydney, in 1894.

The “Murray.”

Another Adelaide passenger ship belonging to Anderson was the Murray. She was built by Hall, of Aberdeen, in 1861, being the last Orient liner to be built entirely of wood. Her measurements were:—

Registered tonnage 903 tons.
Length of keel 180 feet.
Beam 33.3
Depth 20.8

She had a long floor with sharp ends, and, whilst fitted with every convenience for passengers, she carried a very large cargo on a very small draught.

The Murray was considered a fast ship, her best day’s run being 325 miles, but I can best show her capabilities as to speed by recalling a race which she sailed with the well-known Blackwall frigate Hotspur.

The two ships, as was usual with passengers on board, had called in at Capetown; and they left Table Bay together. Then with stunsails set alow and aloft they were 11 days in company running down to St. Helena. In 26° N. they again met and were six days in company, finally they made the Channel within a day of each other, the Hotspur leading.

Regarding this race, the late Captain Whall, who was on board the Hotspur, says of the run to St. Helena: “The wind was steady, and the two ships seemed so nearly matched that for hours together our bearings did not alter.”

Under the well-known Captain Legoe, the Murray made the following fine passages out from Plymouth:—

  • 1861 Left Plymouth, July 26, arrived Adelaide Oct. 16—82 days out.
  • 1862 Left Plymouth, July 13, arrived Adelaide Sept. 30—79 days out.
  • 1863 Left Plymouth, July 15, arrived Adelaide Sept. 26—73 days out.
  • (68 days to the Borda).
  • 1864 Left Plymouth, Aug. 5, arrived Adelaide Oct. 21—77 days out.

The Orient Composite Clippers.

It was during the sixties that the Orient Line came to be known in Australia for the remarkable speed of its beautiful little composite clippers, consisting of:—

Date Built Ship Tonnage Builders.
1863 Coonatto 633

Bilbe, of London

1864 Goolwa 717

Hall, of Aberdeen

1864 Borealis 920

Bilbe, of London

1865 Darra 999

Hall, of Aberdeen

1865 Yatala 1127

Bilbe, of London

1866 Argonaut 1073 „ „

The Coonatto’s measurements were—Length 160 ft. 2 in.; beam 29 ft.; depth 18 ft. 7 in. She was an out and out clipper with very fine lines, but like most of Bilbe’s ships—very wet. However this may in part be put down to the hard-driving of her skipper, Begg, a Highlander, who never spared her and made some very smart passages out and home. Her best run to the Semaphore Lightship was 66 days, and she once did a 70-day passage out after broaching to off St. Paul’s Island and losing both helmsmen and the wheel itself overboard. This famous little ship stranded on Beachy Head in 1876.

“PEKINA” and “COONATTO,” at Port Adelaide, 1867.

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“JOHN DUTHIE,” at Circular Quay, Sydney.

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The Darra also went out to Adelaide in under 70 days, on which occasion her captain wrote home that she “dived off the Cape and came up to blow off the Leeuwin.”

“Yatala.”

Probably the fastest of the six was the fine passenger clipper Yatala, which the redoubtable Captain Legoe left the Murray to command. The record from London to Adelaide, pilot to pilot, 65 days, was shared by the Yatala and Devitt & Moore’s clipper City of Adelaide until the famous Torrens beat it.

Unfortunately, Yatala came to an early end, and the following are the times of her outward passages during her short existence:—

Date. Left Plymouth Arrived Adelaide. Days Out
1865 Aug. 4 Oct. 27 84
1866 „ 2 „ 14 73
1867 „ 10 „ 15 66
1868 July 9 Sept. 24 77
1869 Aug. 7 Oct. 23 77
1870 „ 11 „ 26 76
1871 July 6 „ 2 88

On 18th December, 1871, Yatala left Adelaide in company with the Elder Line clipper, Beltana, which she led to the Horn by a day. The Beltana arrived safely after a tedious light weather run from the line, but the Yatala got ashore near Cape Gris-Nez on 27th March, 1872, when almost in sight of home. Her wool cargo was nearly all saved, but the ship herself became a total loss.

Of the other Orient composites, the Goolwa disappeared from the Register in 1880, but Borealis and Argonaut lasted some years longer.

The “Beltana,” and Captain Richard Angel.

The Beltana, which raced the Yatala in 1871-2, was a composite clipper, belonging to A. L. Elder & Co., a well-known firm in the Adelaide trade and the agents for the celebrated Torrens. Built by Laing, of Sunderland, in 1869, the Beltana measured:—

Registered tonnage 734 tons.
Length 172.5 feet.
Beam 33.6
Depth 19.2

She was a beautiful little ship, a fine sea boat with a good turn of speed. In 1872, when running her easting down, she did a day’s work of 335 miles under foresail, three lower topsails and fore topmast staysail. She made her reputation as a heeler under Captain Richard Angel, a sail carrier of the most determined character, as the following anecdote will prove.

The Beltana was rounding the Horn, homeward bound and reeling along before a heavy westerly gale under topgallant sails, when a vessel was sighted ahead, head-reaching under three close-reefed topsails, though bound the same way as the Beltana. Angel, to show his contempt of such caution, immediately bore down on the stranger, and passing ahead of him, put his helm down and brought his yards on the backstays. As the Beltana came up to the wind, she lay right down until the amazed crew of the stranger could almost see her keel, and momentarily expected to see her capsize or her masts go overboard. But the little ship bore this harsh treatment in the bravest manner, and, though her rail was fathoms deep in the scud to leeward, never stranded a ropeyarn. Having crossed the stranger’s bows, Angel rounded to close under her stern, then squared his yards and raced ahead again. This manoeuvre of “sailing round a vessel” was not one that most men would care to attempt in Cape Horn weather.

“TORRENS.”

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“TORRENS” at Port Adelaide.

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Indeed, hardly was the Beltana on her course again before Angel’s trembling mate approached his captain with a request to be allowed to shorten sail, only to be met by the scornful order of:—“Get the royals on her; and then, if you can’t find anything else to set, go below and ask Mrs. Angel to lend you her petticoat.” Such an order was worthy of Bully Forbes himself.

Captain Richard Angel lost the command of the Beltana on the voyage that she raced the Yatala. On his passage out he ran the Beltana ashore on Kangaroo Island, but got her off and did not report the accident. He loaded wool at Port Augusta, but on getting to sea the ship leaked so much that he had to take her in to Port Adelaide. Here the wool was discharged, and the Beltana hauled up on the slip and repaired, whilst Angel got his dismissal and a Captain Blanch took his place. Beltana caught fire when loading wool in Port Lyttelton, and her end was one of the biggest ship fires in New Zealand.

The Wonderful “Torrens.”

Of other ships managed by Elder & Co., the most noteworthy were the Glen Osmond, Collingrove and Torrens. Of these the Torrens requires special mention, as she was without doubt one of the most successful ships ever built, besides being one of the fastest, and for many years she was the favourite passenger ship to Adelaide. She was built in 1875 by James Laing, of Sunderland, and launched in October of that year, her chief measurements being:—

Registered tonnage 1276 tons.
Length 222.1 feet.
Beam 38.1
Depth 21.5

She was composite built with teak planking and was specially designed for carrying passengers, having a poop 80 feet long.

A beautifully modelled ship and a splendid sea boat, she was very heavily sparred and crossed a main skysail yard. She was also one of the last ships to hold on to fore topmast stunsails; indeed for years she was the only ship with stunsail booms aloft in the Australian trade.

Regarding her capabilities as a sea boat, in easting weather she would drive along as dry as a bone, making 300 miles a day without wetting her decks. But it was in light winds that she showed up best, her ghosting powers being quite extraordinary. The flap of her sails sent her along 2 or 3 knots, and in light airs she was accustomed to pass other clippers as if they were at anchor.

Commander Harry Shrubsole, R.N.R., in a letter to the Nautical Magazine, gives the following interesting reminiscences of her wonderful speed.

Some items of one of her passages are worth noting. Crossed the equator in 15 days from Plymouth; arrived off Semaphore, Port Adelaide, 61 days from Plymouth. The last two days were employed in beating up the Gulf from the western end of Kangaroo Island, I forget the name of the point we made, so 59 days could easily be counted as the passage.

We sighted the Jennie Harkness, obviously American, at daylight right ahead in the S.E. trades; at noon we were alongside her, and our Foo-Foo band played “Yankee-Doodle” as we passed her. She had Jimmy Greens and water-sails, flying jib topsails and what not aloft, and we slid by her as if she was—well—sailing slowly, as she undoubtedly was, compared to our speed. We passed a large ship running the easting down. She was under upper topgallant sails, whilst we were under upper topsails with weather upper and lower stunsails set. The old ship was never driven; she did not need it, neither would she stand it. But she sailed rings round anything sighted. To sight a ship to windward and ahead, on a wind, was to ensure the tautening of the weather braces, an order to sail a bit finer and to see her passing ahead and to windward of that ship by the early afternoon. We did this with a four-master, the Amazon, and I bear a scar on my eyebrow to-day in memory of that ship—merely a small argument about her name. In the case of the Jennie Harkness, I was the “leadin’ ’and” of the Foo-Foo band and can picture the incident now in all its features.

Captain H. R. Angel, who had previously commanded the Glen Osmond and Collingrove, was the chief owner of the Torrens, and had a great say in her design; and after overlooking her building he took her from the stocks and commanded her for 15 voyages. Under him she was a wonderfully lucky ship and a great deal of the credit for her success undoubtedly belonged to Captain Angel.

Her biggest run in the 24 hours was 336 miles; and her fastest speed through the water by the log was 14 knots. Her average for 15 outward passages under Captain Angel was 74 days from Plymouth to the Semaphore, Port Adelaide. Captain Angel always brought her into the St. Vincent’s Gulf via the Backstairs Passage, east of Kangaroo Island, instead of through Investigators’ Straits. On the homeward passage he always took the Cape route, for the benefit of his passengers, calling in at Capetown, St. Helena and Ascension.

To show the extraordinary way in which luck clung to the Torrens as long as Captain H. R. Angel commanded her, I will give the following instance, given me by Captain Angel himself.

On a certain homeward passage, the lamp oil ran short or was lost through some mismanagement. This caused Captain Angel to grow very anxious as the Torrens approached the mouth of the English Channel, in whose narrow crowded waters lights are naturally of the utmost importance. But before soundings were reached a barrel was passed, floating on the water. Angel at once hove his ship to and lowered a boat, picked the barrel up and took it aboard—and, on being opened, it was found to contain oil.

As commodore of the Elder Line, Captain Angel flew a white flag with red crescent and stars at the masthead of the Torrens, instead of the ordinary house-flag with red ground, white crescent and stars.

In the autumn of 1890 Captain Angel retired from the sea and handed over the Torrens to Captain Cope. With the change of captain, the Torrens luck deserted her. On her first passage out under her new commander the Torrens lost her foremast and main topmast in 6° N., 27° W., and put into Pernambuco to refit; and before she was refitted she caught fire. However, the fire was put out, she was remasted and she eventually reached Adelaide 179 days out.

Whilst Captain Cope had her, the Torrens had the honour of having Joseph Conrad as mate for a voyage. This was in 1893, and Conrad made two important literary friendships whilst on the Torrens, for W. H. Jacques made the voyage in her and Galsworthy was a passenger from Adelaide to Capetown.

In 1896 Captain F. Angel, the son of Captain H. R. Angel, took over the command of the Torrens, and again the Goddess of Fortune objected to the change. On his third voyage, young Angel ran foul of an iceberg in the Southern Ocean; and with her bow stove in and partially dismasted, the Torrens managed to struggle into Adelaide, for the second time in her career over 100 days out.

Her last passage, also, under the British flag was a disastrous one. She left Adelaide on 23rd April, 1903, and before she was clear of Kangaroo island a storm burst on her and she had difficulty in clawing off the land. Then when she got down to the Cape latitudes another heavy gale forced her back towards Mauritius. However, at last she got into Table Bay. She had little cargo from Adelaide on board, and as no cargo was offering at Capetown, she went on to St. Helena, and took in a load of explosives for the British Government—ammunition, etc., returning from the Boer war. But even when the Thames tug had got her hawser, the dangers of this passage were not over, for whilst the Torrens was in tow a vessel tried to pass ahead of her, between her and the tug, and was cut down and sunk by the sharp forefoot of the famous clipper. When the collision was seen to be unavoidable there was almost a panic on the Torrens, owing to her cargo of explosives. However nothing happened, the Torrens was uninjured and Captain Angel was not held to blame.

But old Captain Angel had had enough of it—her cost for repairs since he had given her up had come to more than her original cost to build; and he sold her to the Italians.

“Torrens’” Outward Passages.

When inspecting Torrens’ wonderful times, two things in her favour must be remembered, firstly that she sailed from England at the most favourable time in the year, and secondly that, carrying passengers, she was always in perfect trim. On the other hand, everything was done to make the passengers comfortable, especially as many of them were invalids or consumptives going for the benefit of the voyage, thus she was never driven as she might have been.

With the change of ownership as with the change of skippers, evil luck again struck the celebrated old ship, for the Italians soon ran her ashore and after getting her off again sent her to Genoa to be broken up. But when the Genoese shipbreakers saw the beauty of her model and construction, they went to the expense of repairing her, only to again bump her on the rocks. This time she was towed back to Genoa for good and all, and was broken up in 1910.

Captain. Date Left
London.
Date Left
Plymouth.
Date Arrived
Adelaide.
Days
Out.
H. R. Angel Dec. 8, 1875 Dec. 12, 1875 Mar. 7, 1876 85
Oct. 26, 1876 Oct. 29, 1876 Jan. 18, 1877 81
„ 27, 1877 Nov. 4, 1877 „ 11, 1878 68
„ 26, 1878 „ 2, 1878 „ 18, 1879 77
„ 26, 1879 Oct. 30, 1879 „ 8, 1880 70
„ 28, 1880 Nov. 2, 1880 „ 6, 1881 65
„ 27, 1881 Oct. 29, 1881 „ 8, 1882 71
„ 26, 1882 „ 29, 1882 „ 16, 1883 79
„ 27, 1883 „ 29, 1883 „ 7, 1884 70
„ 26, 1884 Nov. 2, 1884 „ 25, 1885 84
„ 27, 1885 „ 1, 1885 „ 8, 1886 68
„ 28, 1886 „ 2, 1886 „ 15, 1887 74
„ 27, 1887 „ 8, 1887 „ 14, 1888 67
„ 27, 1888 „ 1, 1888 „ 14, 1889 74
„ 30, 1889 „ 7, 1889 „ 26, 1890 80
W. H. Cope „ 29, 1890 Dismasted April 26, 1891 179
Nov. 25, 1891 Feb. 28, 1892 95
Oct. 25, 1892 Jan. 30, 1893 97
Nov. 3, 1893 „ 26, 1894 84
Oct. 14, 1894 „ 13, 1895 91
Sept. 18, 1895 Dec. 6, 1895 79
F. Angel Oct. 26, 1896 Left Downs
Oct. 28
Jan. 11, 1897 75
„ 30, 1897 „ 15, 1898 77
„ 25, 1898 Struck Iceberg Feb. 5, 1899 103
„ 31, 1899 Feb. 5, 1900 97
„ 27, 1900 Left Downs
Oct. 30
Jan. 20, 1901 82
„ 24, 1901 Feb. 2, 1902 101
„ 26, 1902 Jan. 17, 1903 83

The Torrens, with the exception of the Lochs, was the last sailing ship to carry passengers. As a composite ship, built specially for passengers, she had no rival except Devitt & Moore’s celebrated Sobraon.

“SOBRAON.”

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“SOBRAON.”

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The Great “Sobraon.”

The Sobraon was built by Messrs. Hall, of Aberdeen, to the order of Lowther, Maxton & Co., the tea clipper owners, and launched in November, 1866. She was the largest composite ship ever built, being constructed of solid teak with iron beams and frames; she was copper fastened and classed 16 years A1.

Her measurements were:—

Registered tonnage 2131 tons.
Burthen 3500
Length over all 317 feet.
Length between perpendiculars 272
Beam 40
Depth of hold 27

Her lower masts were of wrought iron, and her topmasts and lower yards on each mast of steel. On her first two voyages she carried skysails, but these were found to make her rather crank and so were done away with. In the eighties she followed the fashion and was fitted with double topgallant yards on her fore and main masts. With all sail set, she had a spread of just 2 acres of canvas.

Mr. A. G. Elmslie, who served in her for 11 years under his father, from apprentice to chief officer, gave me the following account of her sailing qualities:—

A glance at the perfect lines of the ship in dry dock would be quite sufficient to show there was nothing to stop her going through the water, and I can honestly say that during my 11 years I never saw any other sailing ship pass her in a breeze either on a wind or before it. The fact of the Sobraon being first intended for an auxiliary steamer and having the two stern posts, the space between which was filled up with solid timber, gave her a perfect run, and her bows were as fine as any yacht’s. Runs of over 300 knots when running down the easting were frequent. On one occasion over 1000 knots were covered in three days and over 2000 in a week. 340 knots in the 24 hours was the best run made. I have seen over 16 knots reeled off by the log. This was with the wind some 2 or 3 points on the quarter, which was her best sailing point. On a wind and sailing within 5½ points, she could do her 7 to 8 knots good.

On her first five voyages from 1866 to 1871, Sobraon sailed to Sydney, and after that, from 1872 to 1891, to Melbourne, always returning via the Cape of Good Hope instead of the Horn.

Her fastest trip to Sydney was 73 days and to Melbourne 68 days. On the latter passage she sighted Cape Otway on the morning of the 60th day out, but then had light variable winds, which spoilt what promised to be a 61-day passage.

Most of her outward passages were between 70 and 80 days, but it must be remembered that she was never driven hard out of consideration for her passengers, or there is little doubt that she would have gone near to lowering the golden cock at Thermopylae’s masthead. On her first voyage to Sydney in 1866-7, she went out in 75 days and came home in 78.

Lowther & Maxton only owned her for a few years, and from the first she loaded as one of Devitt & Moore’s monthly line of packets to Australia, the latter firm buying her outright about 1870.

On her maiden voyage the Sobraon was commanded by Captain Kyle. In 1867 he was succeeded by Lieut. J. A. Elmslie, R.N.R., who had her for the rest of her active career, from 1867 to 1891, a period of 24 years.

Captain Elmslie commenced his career in 1842 and for several years traded out to India and China and later to Australia in the well-known London ships La Hogue and Parramatta. Prior to taking the Sobraon, he commanded the ill-fated Cospatrick, from 1863 to 1867, his brother, who was afterwards lost in her in 1873, succeeding him in the command of that ship.

Captain Elmslie’s name was so closely and for so long associated with that of the Sobraon, that passengers were no doubt as much attracted by the one as by the other. In fact there were many instances in which they booked their passages solely on account of the name of the commander. Whilst being a strict disciplinarian and respected by all who sailed under him, he was, at the same time, kindness itself and laid himself out on every occasion to study the interests of his passengers. The fact that the Sobraon never had anything approaching a serious loss of spars or sails may be safely put down to his never ceasing attention to the ship and the weather. He was always about, and his keen sense of watchfulness and duty readily imparted itself to his officers and crew.

Captain Elmslie was elected a Younger Brother of the Trinity House on 1st September, 1868, and he would have been elected an Elder Brother many years before his death had he been eligible, but the fact of his never having served in steam barred him.

No greater proof of the popularity of the Sobraon and her captain can be given than the length of time both officers and men stayed in her. James Cameron, who was foreman shipwright at the building of the Sobraon, served as carpenter on her during the whole time that the ship was afloat—service 1866-1891.

Thomas Willoughby, formerly with Captain Elmslie in Cospatrick, from 1864 to 1867, transferred with his captain to the Sobraon and served throughout, first as butcher and later as chief steward—service 1866-1891.

James Farrance served 16 years as A.B. and boatswain. Thomas Routledge served 10 years as sailmaker.

This length of service on the part of her petty officers is, I should think, easily a record.

And amongst well-known seamen who learnt their craft in the Sobraon were—

Captain R. Hoare, apprentice to chief officer, 1872-1882 (a commander in the Orient Line and Elder Brother of Trinity House).

Captain F. Northey, apprentice to chief officer, 1867-1869, and 1874-1882 (afterwards commanded the John Rennie).

Captain A. E. Baker, apprentice to chief officer, 1887 (afterwards commander in the P. & O.)

Captain Elmslie also had his first and second sons with him. C. T. Elmslie, the eldest, as apprentice before going into the P. & O. and Captain A. G. Elmslie from apprentice to chief officer, 11 years from 1880 to 1891.

The Sobraon’s crew usually consisted of captain, 4 officers, 8 apprentices, carpenter, sailmaker, boatswain, engineer, 2 boatswain’s mates, 26 A.B.’s, 4 O.S.’s, 2 boys, 16 stewards and 2 stewardesses—total all told = 69.

Only one voyage was made in each year, the sailing date from London always being the latter end of September and from Australia early in February.

From her immense carrying capacity, the cargo was invariably a good source of revenue. Owing to her regular sailings there was never any difficulty in getting a full hold, and this applied especially to the homeward run, when her cargo consisted chiefly of wool and wheat. It was, however, as a crack passenger ship to Australia that the Sobraon was most celebrated as she never formed one of the fleet which raced home to be in time for the February wool sales. Indeed, on the homeward run she usually touched at Capetown and always at St. Helena, these breaks in the passage being very popular with passengers.

At St. Helena the ship made a regular stay of about three days, and this visit was as much looked forward to by the inhabitants of the island as by the Sobraon’s passengers. As a rule about 100 tons of cargo, consisting of flour, corn, preserved meat, etc., were landed there and occasionally a few bullocks were taken there from Capetown. Whilst the Sobraon lay at St. Helena, the passengers roamed the Island, climbed the 699 steps to the barracks, visited Longwood and Napoleon’s tomb and generally enjoyed themselves. Captain Elmslie also made a habit of giving a fancy dress ball on board before leaving, to which all the elite of the Island were asked.

Sobraon’s passenger accommodation was unequalled for a sailing ship. She only had a short poop, but her first class saloon reached from right aft to within 20 feet of the foremast, and was 200 feet in length. The second class saloon took up the remaining space in the ’tween decks, with the exception of 20 feet in the eyes of the ship, which was bulkheaded off as a store room and sail locker.

The number of first class passengers on the outward trip averaged close on 90, with 40 in the second saloon. There were generally a few less coming home. Owing to the good accommodation and to the fact that the voyages were timed for the finest climatic conditions, there were always a fair number of invalids booked and a good many of them made the round voyage. And there were many instances, also, of marvellous cures aboard the Sobraon.

In her early days she took many notable people out to Australia. Lord and Lady Belmore and their suite went out in her, the former to take up the Governorship of New South Wales. It was on this voyage that the Duke of Edinburgh was in Sydney whilst the Sobraon lay there; and it was at his request that she was made the flagship at the Sydney Regatta. Captain Elmslie had the honour of entertaining and being entertained by the Duke on several occasions, and on his return passage brought home numerous cases of curios collected by the Duke whilst in the East.

On the next voyage the Sobraon took out Mr. Ducane, the new Governor of Tasmania, and his suite.

Fresh food was obviously a necessity for the class of passenger carried, and the following live-stock were carried on each passage—3 bullocks, 90 sheep, 50 pigs, 3 cows for milking and over 300 geese, fowls and ducks. Fresh water and plenty of it was always procurable—a large condenser running every alternate day; there was an ice chamber, also, in which several tons of ice were stored.

The Sobraon came through her 25 years’ active service with singularly little damage at the hands of the elements.

On making the African coast on the homeward run, she had the usual narrow shaves from being dismasted, which are experienced by all west-bound ships in that locality. The wind shifts from N.W. to S.W. in squalls accompanied by the most terrific thunder and lightning at this dreaded spot, and it is almost impossible for a close-hauled ship to avoid getting caught aback.

The most serious storm experienced by the Sobraon was in 1889, when running her easting down. She was a little to the north of the Crozets, and it began to breeze up on a Sunday morning. The glass gave every indication of a real snorter, and by 4 p.m. had tumbled down to 27.75. By that time the Sobraon had been shortened down to foresail, lower fore topsail, upper fore topsail reefed, main lower topsail and fore topmast staysail. The shift from N.W. to S.W. came at 5 o’clock, and the yards were hardly round before the foresail went and in a few moments there was nothing left of it. The sea was running in mountainous ridges, and with the foresail gone threatened every moment to poop her badly. It was too late to heave to and the ship was kept away before it. After four hours’ battling and over 30 men aloft a brand new foresail was bent and set reefed. This was hardly done before the fore upper topsail blew away. However, with the foresail reefed and two lower topsails the Sobraon fled before the blast like a startled deer. The squalls every few minutes were terrific and in spite of such short canvas the Sobraon was making over 14 knots an hour.

The sea was all the time running higher and higher and breaking aboard in the most alarming fashion. During the night the greater portion of the bulwarks on the port side was carried away; a boat in davits, hanging 22 feet above the water, was filled by a sea and disappeared, the davits breaking short off: the main skylight over the saloon was washed away and tons of water found its way below before the open space could be covered over. The amount of water in the saloon at this time can be imagined when passengers were actually being washed off their feet. On deck there were many narrow escapes of men being washed overboard, the broken bulwarks being a great source of danger. The mate and three of the men were washed from the main fiferail to the break of the poop, and, after being dashed up against the heavy boarding which had been put up to protect the fore end of the poop, managed to save themselves by the life-lines which had been stretched across. The forward deck house which held the galley and engine room was almost demolished and everything moveable in it was washed over the side.

The storm continued at its height from the Sunday afternoon until Wednesday morning. The passengers, who had been battened down for three days, were in a sorry plight owing to the quantities of water that had got below and the catering for them under such conditions proved very difficult. As is usually the case after such a storm, the wind subsided very much quicker than the sea, and for a few hours on the Wednesday night, the wind having dropped completely and the ship losing way, the rolling was terrific. Fortunately everything held aloft in spite of the great strain on the masts during these few hours.

On two occasions the Sobraon had narrow escapes of getting ashore when making the Channel in thick weather. On her first voyage, after several days without sights and when it was calculated that the ship was in the chops of the Channel, several fishing boats were met, and, on asking his position, the captain found that he was heading up the Bristol Channel. Several of the passengers availed themselves of the opportunity of going ashore in the fishing boats, and, landing on the Devonshire coast, reached London several days before the ship.

On the homeward passage in 1888 it came on very thick after Land’s End had been sighted. The Sobraon stood on for some 24 hours and then suddenly the fog lifted and disclosed the land inside Portland Bill dead ahead and under a mile distant. The wind was easterly and light, and the Sobraon close-hauled on the starboard tack; however, she came round in time and stood off, thus escaping destruction by the narrowest margin.

The Sobraon had two escapes from being burnt at sea. The first was on the outward passage in 1884. A little water had been making in the vicinity of the main hatch and the carpenter went below one morning to try to discover where it was coming in. Amongst the cargo in the square of the hatch and around it were several crates of bottles packed in straw. In climbing over these the carpenter dropped the light he was carrying and inside of a minute the straw was alight and the flames darting out in every direction. Luckily the ship carried a quantity of fire extinguishers, and with these and the hoses from two pumps the fire was got under in about 20 minutes. Had there been the slightest delay the fire must have spread to the other cargo, and there being no means of getting at it nothing could have saved the ship.

The second instance occurred in the tropics when outward bound in 1888. A quantity of oil and some 90 tons of coal were down in the fore peak, which was only separated from the cargo in the fore hold by a wooden bulkhead. By spontaneous combustion apparently the coal caught alight, and one morning smoke was discovered coming out of the hatch. All hands were at once started getting the coal up, but as the hatch was only 4 feet by 3 feet this proved an extremely slow job. After 20 tons had been got on deck, the smoke had become so thick and the heat so intense that the hose had to be resorted to. However, this conquered the fire in about half an hour. Luckily the burning part of the coal had been well away from the bulkhead or the consequences must have been more serious.

There was only one person lost overboard off the Sobraon in her whole career, but this was a particularly distressing case. The following account of it was given to me by Captain A. G. Elmslie:—

“In about latitude 35° S. and longitude 5° W., one Sunday evening early in November, 1883, we were bowling along at a good 13 knots with the wind on the starboard quarter and royals set, being outward bound to Australia. I was third mate and keeping the first watch. Four bells had just been struck when I noticed a lady passenger come up on the poop and walk aft, sitting down on the weather side of the wheel box and close to the man at the wheel. About five minutes later the quartermaster cried out:—‘My God! she’s overboard!’

“I rushed aft, and with the quartermaster tried to get hold of the girl, who was then hanging on to the lower rail outside, but before we could get her she let go and dropped into the water. Although only a few seconds had elapsed since the quartermaster had let the wheel go, the ship was up in the wind and nearly aback.

“After telling the midshipman to throw some lifebuoys over and the fourth officer to get the boat ready, I sang out:—‘Man overboard! Let go your royal and topgallant halliards!’

“Fortunately the men were handy and the yards came down before we were flat aback. By this time the captain and other officers and all hands were on deck. Owing to the pace the ship was still going through the water, together with the strong wind blowing, it was necessary to let the topsails come down also.

“With the courses and lower topsails alone set, she soon lost way sufficiently to allow the boat being lowered, which by that time had been manned. Only four minutes elapsed between the girl going over the side and the boat being in the water, but in this short space of time the ship had travelled a good half mile and quite far enough to make the search a most difficult one, especially seeing that the night was intensely dark and a heavy sea running. The search was kept up for some four hours and only abandoned then through the danger of keeping the boat in the water, for she was several times nearly swamped. Needless to say, on such a night, and the probabilities being that the girl was drowned at once, no sign was seen of her. Two of the life-buoys were afterwards picked up by another ship. The reason of the suicide, for such it undoubtedly was, remained a mystery. The girl had no relations with her and no one on board could throw any light on the matter.”

On another occasion the ship was going some 5 knots in the tropics when an apprentice fell overboard during the forenoon watch. It was quite 20 minutes before the boat reached him, but he was found swimming along quite composed, having unlaced and taken his heavy boots off and slung them round his neck, as their weight was less felt there and he did not want to lose them.

Another of Sobraon’s apprentices was even still more cool-headed. This one fell off the footrope of the mainyard, being one of 30 hands aloft stowing the mainsail. Luckily he was well in to the quarter of the yard and so fell on the deck. If he had gone overboard there would have been little chance of picking him up. The fall was one of 58 feet and he fell within 3 feet of the second mate. The latter naturally expected to find him dead, but he recovered consciousness within an hour, and was about again a month later quite recovered. He declared that as soon as he felt himself falling he made himself as rigid as possible, brought his head and legs together and protected the former with his arms; and he landed in that position on his side. He was a big fellow, being over 6 feet in height and weighing 14 stones.

Another marvellous escape from aloft was that of a man who was helping to stow the main upper topsail. This man suddenly lost his hold and came down spread-eagle fashion. He dropped on to the main rigging and carried away 7 ratlins of 27 thread stuff, then landed on the rail without breaking a bone. This was in 1886, and the Sobraon was just making Plymouth. The man was taken to hospital and recovered in a few days. As soon as he came out of hospital, he claimed damages from the ship, declaring that a grummet on the jackstay had given away; but it was easily proved that nothing went and the man had simply lost his hold.

But all falls from aloft on the Sobraon were not so fortunate as these two. A young ordinary seaman once fell from the mizen topgallant rigging with fatal consequences. The crossjack had just been hauled up and the mizen topgallant sail clewed up, and the hands were sent aloft to make the sails fast. This man, with three others, being first aloft, went up to stow the topgallant sail. Suddenly the men on the cross jack footropes heard an agonising cry and a form whizzed past them, struck the spanker gaff and then fell on the deckhouse. The poor fellow broke his spine amongst other injuries and died almost immediately.

On still another occasion, when the Sobraon was again coming into Plymouth, a man working in the main futtock rigging lost his hold and fell on deck right in the midst of a crowd of passengers. There were close on 100 people standing about at the time and it was extraordinary that he fell on no one—he just touched a lady on the shoulder and bruised her a little—but was of course horribly smashed up himself and killed instantly. The shock to the crowd of passengers standing round may easily be imagined.

There were two curious cases of somnambulism amongst the passengers of the Sobraon. The first was a Church of England clergyman and he was most methodical in his movements. He invariably appeared on deck about midnight and would first of all go up on the poop and peer into the compass; and then, after strolling the deck for a few minutes, would go below to the small saloon aft where prayers were held by him on that voyage. Here he would go over the service to an imaginary congregation, after which he would return to his berth and turn in. In the early days of the voyage he was spoken to about his sleep walking, and, at his own request, was locked into his cabin one night. The result was that when he found that he could not get out for his sleep walk, he worked himself into a fury of rage and began smashing things in his cabin. At last the door had to be opened for fear that he would do himself some damage and after a great deal of coaxing he was got back to bed. For some days after this, however, he was in a pretty bad way and no further attempt was made to stop him walking in his sleep.

The second case was of a young man who generally appeared on deck for about an hour each night. On one occasion the officer of the watch, thinking that he was too close to the side of the ship and fearing that he might get on the rail or fall overboard, touched him with a view to getting him away. The somnambulist at once grappled with the mate and was only mastered after over a quarter of an hour’s desperate struggle. As on an ordinary occasion the mate in question could probably have accounted for three men of the somnambulist’s build and physique, the incident goes to prove that sleep walkers, if interfered with, are possessed temporarily of a madman’s strength.

On her last trip the Sobraon arrived at Melbourne about mid-December, 1891, and after discharging took in sufficient ballast to take her round to Sydney. Here she was sold to the New South Wales Government, who turned her into a reformatory ship, and for the next twenty years she lay moored in Sydney harbour. In 1911 she was handed over to the Federal Government to be converted into a training ship for boys entering the Australian Navy. On being put into dry dock for survey, it was found that, in spite of her age, she was as sound as a bell.

Messrs. Devitt & Moore.

In Sobraon Messrs. Devitt & Moore undoubtedly had possessed one of the finest passenger sailing ships ever launched; this firm, indeed, possessed a very keen eye where ships were concerned. The two partners started as shipbrokers, and loaded ships for the Australian trade as far back as 1836. They always loaded on commission, and I believe the first ships for which they did business belonged to Robert Brooks, afterwards the well-known M.P. for Weymouth. But the most famous shipowner who gave Devitt & Moore his ships to load was Duncan Dunbar. And on the death of Dunbar in 1862 Devitt & Moore acquired an interest in several of his best ships, notably the wonderful old La Hogue, one of the favourite passenger ships to Sydney in her day and celebrated for her huge figure-head and single mizen topsail.

Shortly before his death Duncan Dunbar had commissioned Laing, of Sunderland, to build him a 1000-ton frigate-built passenger ship, to be called the Dunbar Castle. This ship, afterwards known as the “Last of the Dunbars” was launched in 1866, and sailed regularly in Devitt & Moore’s list of passenger ships to Australia.

The La Hogue, by the way, was built by Pile, of Sunderland, and measured 1331 tons, being one of the largest frigate-built ships ever launched.

Devitt & Moore kept her in the Sydney trade, and so popular was she with the Australians that they would wait weeks and often months on purpose to sail in her.

In 1866, Laing, of Sunderland, launched the equally well-known and popular frigate-built liner Parramatta, of 1521 tons, for Devitt & Moore’s Sydney passenger trade. These two ships do not properly come within the scope of this book and I shall give a more detailed account of them in the next book of this series, which will deal specially with these frigate-built Blackwallers.

Few shipowners can escape scot-free from disaster, and the firm’s greatest loss was when their new ship, the Queen of the Thames, considered by many to be the finest ship that ever left the London River, was lost off the Cape on her first homeward bound passage from Melbourne.

With La Hogue and Parramatta in the Sydney trade and Sobraon in the Melbourne trade, the house-flag was well known throughout Victoria and New South Wales. Nor was it less well known in South Australia; indeed Devitt & Moore’s ships were amongst the pioneers in the passenger and wool trade of Adelaide.

“City of Adelaide” and “South Australian.”

In the Adelaide trade, the beautiful little composite ships of Devitt & Moore rivalled those of the Orient and Elder Lines. Of these little clippers the best known passenger ships were the City of Adelaide and South Australian.

The City of Adelaide was launched in 1864 from Pile’s yard, her measurements being:—

Registered tonnage 791 tons.
Length 176.8 feet.
Breadth 33.2
Depth 18.8

She was a very fast little ship with a 65-day run from London to Adelaide to her credit.

The South Australian came out in 1868, also from Pile’s yard, and measured:—

Registered tonnage 1040 tons.
Length 201 feet.
Breadth 36
Depth 20.1

She had a poop 80 ft. long, and was classed 17 years A1. Though not as fast a ship as the smaller City of Adelaide, she was a very fine sea boat with very comfortable accommodation for first and second class passengers.

She was commanded by Captain David Bruce, who with his three sons was very well known in the Adelaide trade. Old David Bruce was one of the good old breed of sea dog—a sturdy, weather-beaten, grey-whiskered Scot. He always dressed in black broadcloth, topped by a straw hat and puggaree. He possessed a merry wit—also a lame leg, which had been crushed by a run-away cask during a storm. His three sons served their time under him, and the commands of the City of Adelaide and South Australian seem to have been taken in turn by each member of the Bruce family.

“CITY OF ADELAIDE.”
David Bruce, Commander.

From an old lithograph.

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“SOUTH AUSTRALIAN.”

From an old lithograph.

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South Australian was occasionally seen in Melbourne, but the City of Adelaide was always in the South Australian trade, and usually loaded wool at Port Augusta. Both ships were still running in the late eighties.

The Speedy Little “St. Vincent.”

Messrs. Devitt & Moore always considered that the little St. Vincent, launched in 1865 by Pile, of Sunderland, was the fastest ship they ever owned. Her measurements were:—

Registered tonnage 892 tons.
Length 190 feet.
Breadth 35
Depth 18.9

She was also composite built, with a 68-ft. poop and 36-ft. foc’s’le. With hard driving skippers, like J. Bissit and J. Barrett, she had as bad a reputation amongst foremast hands as the Orient flyers in the matter of wetness. However, she was such a beautifully modelled ship that she came to no harm in spite of generally travelling through the water instead of over it. But no hard driven ship comes through the westerlies year after year without a scratch, and one occasionally comes across such entries as the following in her log books:—

27th October, 1878.—Struck by a heavy squall, sustained severe damage to spars, losing bowsprit, headgear, etc.

She was not often over the 80 days going out, and her times coming home would have been as good, if she had not come via the Cape and St. Helena like most South Australian traders; nevertheless she was usually home in under 90 days. In spite of being hard driven for most of her life the St. Vincent was still afloat in 1905 as a Norwegian barque under the name of Axel.

“Pekina” and “Hawkesbury.”

Messrs. Devitt & Moore owned two other well-known clippers, built of wood. These were Pekina, 770 tons, built by Smith, of Aberdeen, in 1865; Hawkesbury, 1120 tons, built by Pile, of Sunderland, in 1868.

The Pekina was in the South Australian trade, but the Hawkesbury always ran to Sydney. Though she had many fine passages to her credit, the Hawkesbury’s chief claim to fame was her reputation for being the wettest ship in the wool trade. She was composite built, but the Pekina was all wood.

Messrs. Devitt & Moore sold the Pekina in 1880, but the Hawkesbury was still in the Sydney trade in the late eighties.

Mr. T. B. Walker.

Messrs. Devitt & Moore, as shipbrokers, had many fine ships figuring in their books, notably Mermerus and Thessalus, and at odd times others of Carmichael’s fleet. They were also brokers for Mr. T. B. Walker’s speedy little barques in the Tasmanian and Brisbane trades. These sailed under the Devitt & Moore house-flag, and Mr. Walker occupied a room and his clerk a desk in their office.

Mr. T. B. Walker was a very prominent man amongst London shipowners and for many years was chairman of Lloyd’s Register. He was a shipmaster of the old school and took a great pride in his ships, and kept them up in most liberal fashion. One of his customs was to keep officers and apprentices on board whilst the ships were at home, an old pensioned cook going into the galley and acting as shipkeeper. Thus the Walker apprentices had a most valuable training in docking and undocking, shifting ship, refitting rigging, bending and unbending sail, etc., and a further result of this custom was that these pretty little barques were kept in such good order whilst at home that they came to be known as the West India Dock yachts.

Mr. Walker lived at Hackney and later at Snaresbrook, and he used to arrive at the docks punctually at 9.30 every morning. By this time the decks of all the Walker clippers in port had been washed down, the ropes Flemish coiled, the brass polished and everything was in order for his inspection. And everything had to be in perfect order, for he had an eye like a hawk and nothing escaped him: the least thing wrong or out of order and he was sure to detect it. His captains used to assemble together to meet him and make a daily report on their ships. After Mr. Walker had made his inspection it was the long-established custom for his captains to conduct him to the West India Dock Station, where he entrained for his day’s work in the City. In the spring when most of the ships were home, this procession of Mr. Walker and his captains from the docks to the station was a well-known sight of the neighbourhood and was referred to as “Mr. T. B. Walker and his satellites.”

Walker’s Clipper Barques.

Mr. T. B. Walker’s long connection with the Tasmanian trade began in 1851-2 when he despatched the brig Arnon, of 338 tons register, to Launceston. She was commanded by Captain Benjamin Fowler, a brother-in-law of Mr. Walker’s; she arrived out of season and lay in port for some months waiting for the following season’s wool, during which time Captain Fowler married a daughter of Captain William Nielley (late 40th Regiment), of Rostella, East Tamar, Launceston, and by so doing set an example which was followed by quite a number of Walker’s skippers and officers. To name only a few, I may mention Captain Barwood, who succeeded Fowler in the Arnon and is, I believe, still living in Tasmania; Captain Wittingham, who was lost in the Lanoma; Captain Smith, of the Westbury; and Captain Brown, of the Corinth. To return to the Arnon, on her return trip besides wool, she carried the mails and a large shipment of gold.

On his arrival home Captain Fowler transferred to Walker’s new barque, the Henry Reed, of 495 tons, and finally commanded the Alfred Hawley, another new barque of 420 tons. Captain Fowler retired early from the sea and settled down in his native town, Scarborough, where he took a great interest in municipal and local affairs, becoming in turn Alderman and Mayor, and lived to a good old age, being greatly respected and esteemed by his fellow townsmen.

In the early sixties Walker kept three ships in the Launceston trade, the Durnstan, Fugitive and first Westbury, all small wooden barques. He also had ships in the Queensland trade; most of his ships were built by Pile, of Sunderland, as the following list of his later ships will show:—

Date
Built.
Ship. Description. Tons. Builders.
1863 Arab Steed wood barque 635

Pile, of Sunderland.

1866 Araunah „ „ 448

Gardner „

1867 Westbury iron „ 493

Pile „

1868 Decapolis „ „ 632

„ „

1869 Berean comp. „ 526

„ „

1870 Corinth „ „ 614

„ „

1873 Barossa iron ship 968

„ „

1876 Lanoma „ barque 665

Austin „

The Beautiful Little “Berean.”

The best known, as well as the fastest, of all Walker’s barques was the beautiful little Berean. She was built by Pile, of Sunderland, on similar lines to the tea clippers Maitland and Undine, and was launched in August, 1869. She was a 19-year A1 ship, and so fine was the shipwright’s workmanship that when she was 18 years old and due for remetalling, Mr. Spencer, Lloyd’s senior surveyor, who was superintending the work, asked Captain Wyrill when she was last caulked, to which he got the reply:—-“On the stocks before launching.” Mr. Spencer could hardly believe this surprising statement; he had the seams of the topsides put to the severest test, but was obliged to admit that they could not be improved, his opinion being shared by the master caulker. And the Berean continued to the end of her career without being recaulked; even after years of carrying heavy ice cargoes when owned by Norwegians, it was not deemed necessary to touch her seams.

Captain JOHN WYRILL, of “Berean.”

“BEREAN.”

From a painting in possession of the late Captain John Wyrill.

Larger image (175 kB)

Her registered measurements were:—

Net tonnage 526 tons.
Gross tonnage 542 „
Under deck 506 „
Length 160.5 feet.
Breadth 30.2 „
Depth 17.2 „

She had a raised quarterdeck 43 feet long. This was laid with New Zealand Kauri pine planking, 4 inches wide, extending the full length without a butt, and what is more without a knot. All the deck fittings, houses, fiferails, skylights and topgallant bulwarks were of selected teak, the bulwarks being panelled with fretwork designs. The boats also were of polished teak; in fact, the only bit of painted wood about the decks was the longboat chocks. Even the bunk boards and lining of the foc’s’le were of teak.

The Berean carried skysails for many years, and the following are her spar measurements:—

Spars. Foremast. Mainmast. Mizen
mast.
ft. ft. ft.

Mast (deck to truck)

112 116 93

Lower mast (deck to cap)

50 54 50

Doublings

12 12 9

Topmast

38 38 29

Doublings

6.6 6.6

Topgallant, royal and skysail masts

42.6 42.6 23

Lower yard

62 62

Lower topsail yard

55 55

Upper topsail yard

50 50

Topgallant yard

40 40

Royal yard

30 30

Skysail yard

23 23

Spanker boom

44.6

Spanker gaff

44

Bowsprit and jibboom

48

Berean’s best point of sailing was with a whole sail breeze and smooth water, the wind quarterly or 2 points abaft the beam. Her best run in the 24 hours was 315 miles. She was, of course, too small and hardly powerful enough to equal the larger iron clippers when running down the easting, but in moderate weather there were not many ships which could show her their sterns. The following sailing records will give some idea of her powers:—

Equator to the Channel

17 days.

First 4 passages out averaged

77 „

First 4 passages home averaged

84 „

In sailing round the world from 30° S., 20° W., to 30° S., 20° W., her yearly average was from 80 to 85 days, her quickest circle of the globe being 76 days.

Her best outward passage to Launceston was:—

71 days pilot to pilot.
68 days land to land.

In 1881-2 she ran from Launceston to the Lizard in 79 days. During her first 14 voyages, all her passages were under 90 days. She generally left the West India Docks in May and was back in the Thames about the following March.

Captain John Wyrill.

Captain John Wyrill, who, I am glad to say, is still hale and hearty, took Berean from the stocks and only left her when she changed her flag. He is one of the few sailors left of the good old sort, for he has the distinction of never having served in a steamship. Coming from one of the foremost seafaring families in Scarborough, Captain Wyrill went to sea as far back as 1850; his apprenticeship indentures were for seven years, but he was an acting second mate within three years of his going to sea.

His first command in T. B. Walker’s ships came about in rather a curious way. He was appointed to command a ship, belonging to Mr. Hodgson Smith, the father of Scarborough’s present harbourmaster, in place of a captain who was ill. This ship lay in a South Coast port, but on Captain Wyrill arriving there to take up his command he found that the sick skipper had recovered and sailed on his voyage. Mr. Smith thereupon introduced him to Mr. T. B. Walker and his brother Henry Walker, who, by the way, were natives of Scarborough. Through them he obtained command of a ship called the Lady Stanley, his next command was the Asphodel, then the Velocidade, which he left to take the Berean.

Captain Wyrill circumnavigated the globe no less than 36 times, and was 44 years in command of sailing ships, for 42 of which he was in the Tasmanian trade. Indeed no history of Tasmania’s rise to her present prosperity and importance would be complete without some mention of the Berean and her commander. And when it was known in Launceston that Captain Wyrill was leaving Tasmania homeward bound for the last time, with the intention of retiring from the sea, a meeting and public send-off was arranged and a purse of sovereigns and an illuminated address were presented to the veteran captain by the Mayor of the town after several eulogistic speeches, in which Captain Wyrill was referred to “as one of the most popular men ever connected with the shipping of Launceston.” Like many another sailing ship captain, Captain Wyrill was no mean surgeon and the setting of broken limbs at sea held no terrors for him. He once made a very good job of his second mate’s broken arm.

The Berean was so free from accidents at sea that after she had been afloat some years the underwriters at Lloyd’s offered to insure her at a specially reduced premium. Her most serious misfortune, whilst under Captain Wyrill, occurred whilst she was towing up to the docks from Gravesend. A large ship ahead suddenly took the ground and the Berean was unable to clear her, the collision costing her a new bowsprit, besides damages to figure-head and cutwater. Her narrowest escape from shipwreck was owing to a wrong light in 1888 in no less a place than the Channel. Fairplay, in criticising the misdeeds of Trinity House, gives the following account of the incident:—

The Berean, Captain Wyrill, left London for the Colonies in the fall of last year. Before sailing the captain received from the Board of Barnacles notice that the light on St. Catherine’s, Isle of Wight, was to be altered in October from a fixed oil light to an electric flash with intervals of about five seconds. The captain, like a prudent man, entered this on his chart, so that it should not be overlooked. Before he left the Colonies, another notice of the impending change was given him, and he was well armed with timely advice. He made his homeward voyage, and calculated he was off the Channel. He had not been able to get an observation for three days, but he felt sure of his position, and he shaped a course right up Channel for Beachy Head. A strong S.W. wind was blowing, and the weather was thick and dirty. When he judged he had run his distance to Portland, he bore up a little for the English land to catch St. Catherine’s light, and word was given to look out for the bright electric flash. No such light was visible and the vessel was still kept away. Presently a dim light was seen 2 points on the starboard bow. At first this light looked green and was taken to be the starboard light of an approaching ship, and the helm was starboarded a little to give more room. A little time showed that idea to be wrong, and eyes were still strained to catch St. Catherine’s with no result. Then the light seen was taken for a steamer’s masthead light, but that notion did not do, and it was quite clear that the light, let it be what it might, was a fixed shore light. Over went the lead, and the soundings showed the shore to be handy, but what shore? Or what part of the shore? Clearly not off St. Catherine’s, because according to notice given there could be no fixed light there.

The course and soundings would have agreed with the French shore in the neighbourhood of Cape La Hogue. Something had to be done, and quickly. The light was getting clearer but no land could be seen. If the vessel was on the French coast it would be fatal to haul her wind, if on the English coast it would be destruction to bear up. What was to be done? Over went the lead again. Twelve fathoms. That was enough, thank you. There was too much sea on to stay the ship in a hurry, so the captain wore her round and stood off on the port tack to get back where he came from. The compass soon showed that the flood tide was setting the vessel in by the light, and there was nothing for it but to wear again and get out past the light on the old course, if it could be done. The captain took the wheel, and calling to the crew to pull hard if ever they pulled in their lives, sent her round again. It was hit or miss, but the vessel was smart, and was smartly handled. She came round like a duck and just managed to go clear of the light, which after all, turned out to be St. Catherine’s. It had never been altered.

The “Berean’s” Races.

In her 27 years of sailing out to the Antipodes and home, the Berean had many a contest with clippers twice her size, in which she gave a very good account of herself.

Captain Wyrill gave a very interesting description of three of these encounters in the Nautical Magazine a few years ago, and I do not think I can do better than quote his own words. He writes:—

Coming home from Tasmania in the Berean early in 1870, about the equator and nearing the tedious “variables,” alias “doldrums,” alias “horse latitudes,” we overhauled the clipper ship Yosemite, from San Francisco for United Kingdom for orders. Her captain signalled for permission to come on board, and a prompt reply of welcome went up. The captain reported himself tired and restless, that he was racing home with two or three ships, and was anxious to know what vessels we had spoken. My list was produced, but none of his competitors was in it. After a pleasant visit the captain returned to his ship giving me the names of two of his antagonists.

Berean gradually crept away from Yosemite, and in about two days she had dipped below the horizon, but was still visible from aloft. By this time we were coming up with two ships, which, by their spread of stunsails, water-sails, Jimmy Greens, etc., were evidently in a great hurry. In exchanging signals they proved to be the two vessels racing the Yosemite, viz., ship Lady Blomfield and barque Cerastes; the latter was slightly ahead. We passed within hail of the Lady Blomfield, and when I reported the Yosemite not far astern the captain was greatly excited. Throwing up his cap, he exclaimed, “Go and tell the other ship there is a bet of £100 between them.”

A hand went aloft and pointed out the Yosemite astern. Shortly after we sailed alongside the Cerastes, but the captain took the news of the racer’s proximity very calmly and seemed to be surprised she was so near. We gradually got away from these two ships and saw no more of them. On arrival in the English Channel I sent a report ashore which appeared in the Shipping Gazette, and I found considerable interest was being taken in this race. I was interviewed by Yosemite’s agents as to my opinion which ship would win. Two or three days after Berean arrived in London Cerastes reached Queenstown, and was the winner of that race.

In 1893, homeward bound from Tasmania to London, Lat. 19° S., Long. 22° W., Berean fell in with Geo. Thompson’s Aberdeen White Star clipper Samuel Plimsoll from Sydney to London; strong S.E. trade wind, squally. At daylight the two ships were exactly abeam of each other, and throughout the day neither could gain an inch. (The old man of the Samuel Plimsoll stamped up and down his poop all day in a very excited state of mind and kept exclaiming, “A little thing like that hanging on to me like a flea and I cannot shake her off.”) The royals were frequently lowered during the squalls and hoisted again when they had passed. Samuel Plimsoll steering slightly more easterly, the two ships gradually closed, and if the respective courses had been continued must have collided. Berean, being the windward ship, was bound to give way, so at sundown she was shaken up in the wind and the Samuel Plimsoll allowed to pass ahead. At daylight next day, the Aberdeen clipper was well out to windward and slightly ahead, and in that bearing the ships parted, seeing no more of each other.

Unfortunately, in the chops of the Channel, Berean was surrounded with a fleet of herring nets, some of which clung to her the rest of the passage impeding her speed. Samuel Plimsoll arrived at Gravesend an hour or two ahead, but being too early in the tide had to anchor. Berean, being of lighter draught, passed her and was first in dock. But for the detention through fouling the nets, in all probability these two ships would have reached Gravesend together after a race of 6000 miles.

In 1895, when outward bound to Tasmania and in the doldrums north of the equator, Berean fell in with the four-master Loch liner Loch Carron, bound to Adelaide. The two ships after a chat with signals parted on opposite tacks and did not sight each other again until crossing the Great Bight of Australia, when at lunch one day the welcome cry of “Sail-ho!” was heard. Going on deck the chief officer and myself naturally looked ahead for the stranger, but a ship on our starboard quarter was pointed out. Berean was steering due east for Tasmania with the wind right aft, the worst point for fine-lined ships, head sails all becalmed; the Loch Carron hauling up for Adelaide was carrying the wind 2 or 3 points on the quarter, all sails drawing, and was gaining on the Berean. When she got into our wake she kept off on the same course as if intending to speak, but finding she could not gain on that course hauled to again, crossing astern, and with the difference in the courses the two ships were soon out of sight of each other. The picture of the Loch Carron as she sheered away under all sail, scattering the feathery foam from her bows, still lives, forming one of the series of mental photographs an old sailor naturally collects.

Another still more interesting meeting was with the famous Thermopylae. Both ships were outward bound, and the Thermopylae overhauled and passed the Berean to the southward of the Cape, the weather being unsettled, and the Thermopylae, being able to bear more sail than the little Berean, soon went out of sight ahead. Nevertheless she only passed Cape Otway 17 hours ahead of the Berean, so Captain Wyrill was not quite broken-hearted.

On another occasion the Berean, when outward bound, crossed the southern tropic in company with Green’s Melbourne (afterwards the well-known cadet ship Macquarie) and the little barque arrived in Launceston two or three days before the big iron ship arrived in Hobson’s Bay.

Again, when homeward bound, the Berean was passed off the Falkland Isles in a strong breeze by Green’s fast Blackwall frigate Windsor Castle, nevertheless the Windsor Castle docked in London four days later than the Berean.

All the above trials of speed were with vessels very much larger and more powerful than Mr. Walker’s clipper barque, but the Berean once had a very interesting race round the world with another well-known barque, the little Harriet McGregor, of 331 tons, belonging to Hobart. The two ships left Tasmania together, and the Berean arrived at Gravesend, 90 days out, beating the Harriet McGregor by a week. On the return passage, the Harriet McGregor was loaded first and got away about nine days ahead of Berean, but again Walker’s clipper got in ahead of her, this time by one day only, after making the run to Launceston in 77 days.

“Berean” as an Ice Carrier.

Mr. T. B. Walker died in 1894, and all his ships were sold two years later.

Berean went to the Norwegians and was employed for the next 14 years carrying ice from Norway to the Thames. Captain Wyrill took over the Eden Holme and some of his old hands went with him. He was hauling into the London Dock after his first voyage to Tasmania in the Eden Holme, when the poor little Berean under her new flag was hauling out; and the change for the worse in the old ship was so marked that one of her old crew remarked to Captain Wyrill with tears in his eyes:—“There she is, sir, but she looks very different from what she was when we had her.” Nevertheless, though uncared for, the Berean still continued to make good regular passages, and was a constant visitor to the Regent’s Canal Dock. But in 1910 she was run into by a foreign steamer below Gravesend, when inward bound from Langesund, and was towed ashore in a sinking condition. This was the end of her active career, for she was now condemned, and after being patched up went to Falmouth as a hulk. I saw her there not many years before the war, and the marks of the thoroughbred were still plain to be seen.

Loss of the “Corinth.”

The Corinth, Walker’s only other composite ship, was lost by spontaneous combustion.

In the year 1890 she sailed from Launceston, in the wake of the Berean, with a cargo of wool and skins, under command of Captain Littler. When she was a week out and about 300 miles S.E. of New Zealand, signs of fire in the hold were discovered early on a Sunday morning. Prompt measures to fight the fire were at once taken, everything was battened down, holes were cut in the deck, through which the hose was led and the wool bales were soused with water; nevertheless the fire gained rapidly and at 10 o’clock the same night the ship had to be abandoned. The crew got safely away in two boats and headed for the New Zealand coast, but with little hope of making the land against the stormy weather of the prevailing westerly winds.

After they had been five days and nights adrift, the smoke of a steamer was sighted about sundown; then darkness set in. The provisions had become soaked in salt water but the shipwrecked crew had managed to keep a few rockets dry, and these were sent up one after the other in the hope of attracting the attention of the steamer. At last only one rocket remained, and after some discussion as to whether to risk it or keep it for a future occasion, it also was fired and was seen from the bridge of the approaching vessel. However, she showed no signs of having seen it in the way of an answering rocket or flare, so one can imagine the relief of the shipwrecked crew when her masthead and later her side lights were seen, steering end on for the boats. The steamer proved to be the Fifeshire, homeward bound from New Zealand, and she took the Corinth castaways right on to London.

A description of Walker’s iron barques will be found at the end of Part III.

The Little “Ethel.”

Perhaps the most familiar ship to old City men was the little Ethel, which under the command of Captain A. Ross ran for years with the utmost regularity between London and Tasmania, and when in the Thames always moored at Hayes Wharf, London Bridge. She was a composite barque of 556 tons and was built in 1866 by Pile, of Sunderland, and owned by Fenwick & Co., of London.

The Hobart Barque “Harriet McGregor.”

A still smaller ship than the Ethel in the Tasmanian trade was the smart little Harriet McGregor, which had the “round the world” race with Berean. A. McGregor who built her was also her owner.

She was built at Hobart in 1871, and measured:—

Registered tonnage 331 tons.
Length 134.2 feet.
Beam 27.6
Depth 15.9

This little ship for year after year did the following annual round with the regularity of a clock. On Christmas day she left Hobart for London, loaded with wool and sperm oil. She returned to Hobart from London with general cargo at 40s. and often more. Then she ran across to Mauritius from Hobart with coal, and returned with a cargo of sugar, in time to get away on her usual sailing day for London.

The Fremantle Barques “Charlotte Padbury” and “Helena Mena.”

In the early days the Fremantle wool trade, including that of the Ashburton River and Sharks Bay, was all carried in the holds of fast clipper barques, such as Walker’s Westbury, Decapolis and Corinth, and well worthy to be ranked with these were the Charlotte Padbury and Helena Mena, both of which were well known and much admired in the London River for many years.

The Charlotte Padbury was a wood barque of 640 tons, she was built at Falmouth in 1874 for W. Padbury, of Fremantle.

The Helena Mena was a composite barque of 673 tons, and was built by Thomson, of Sunderland, in 1876, for J. Wilson, of London.

The Charlotte Padbury was wrecked in April, 1903, and the Helena Mena was sold to the French for £1275 in 1898.

These were two of the last of the wood and composite clippers, for by the early seventies every shipowner, however conservative, found himself compelled to go in for iron ships, if he was to compete successfully in the world’s freight market.


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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