The Colonial Clippers

PREFACE

CONTENTS

ILLUSTRATIONS

PART I. THE EMIGRANT SHIPS. — The Power of Gold. — Emigrant Ships to Australia in the Forties. — Report on Steerage Conditions in 1844. — A Shipping Notice of 1845. — The Discovery of Gold in Australia. — Melbourne and its Shipping 1851-2. — First Gold Cargoes Home. — The Great Rush to the Gold Regions in 1852. — The Need for Fast Ships. — Maury’s Improvements on the Old Route to the Colonies. — Early Fast Passages Outward. — Rules and Customs aboard the “Eagle” in 1853. — Liverpool Shipowners in the Australian Trade. — James Baines, of the Black Ball Line. — The White Star Line. — The Mail Contract. — The “Marco Polo.” — Captain James Nicol Forbes. — “Marco Polo’s” First Voyage to Australia. — “Marco Polo’s” Second Voyage to Australia. — After-Life of “Marco Polo.” — Most Notable Clippers of 1853. — “Ben Nevis.” — The “Star of the East.” — The “Miles Barton.” — The “Guiding Star.” — The “Indian Queen.” — The Famous “Sovereign of the Seas.” — Best Outward Passages for 1853-4, Anchorage to Anchorage. — 1854—The Year of the Big Ships. — Carrying On. — Advantages of a Light Load Line and High Side. — Examples of Carrying Sail. — Extraordinary 24-hour Runs. — The “Lightning.” — The “Red Jacket.” — Race across the Atlantic between “Lightning” and “Red Jacket.” — “Red Jacket’s” First Voyage to Australia. — The “Lightning’s” First Voyage to Australia. — “Champion of the Seas.” — The “James Baines.” — Record Voyage of “James Baines” to Australia. — The “Donald Mackay.” — “Blue Jacket,” “White Star” and “Shalimar.” — The Wreck of the “Schomberg.” — The Best Outward Passages—Liverpool to Melbourne, 1854-5. — 1855-1857—Captain Anthony Enright and the “Lightning.” — Captain Enright’s Regulations. — The Passengers on the “Lightning.” — The Gent Afloat. — Shipboard Newspapers. — The Ship’s Notice Board. — The Ship’s Band and Concerts, etc. — A Bill of Fare on the “Lightning.” — St. Valentine’s Day. — Other Amusements at Sea. — Best Homeward Passages, 1855-56. — Best Outward Passages 1855-56, Liverpool to Melbourne. — The “James Baines” Overdue! — The “James Baines,” “Champion of the Seas,” and “Lightning” race out to India with Troops in the Time of the Mutiny. — The Burning of the “James Baines.” — America Sells her Clippers to Great Britain. — Notes on the later American-built Passenger Ships. — Black Ballers in the Queensland Emigrant Trade. — “Sunda” and “Empress of the Seas” Carry Sheep to New Zealand. — The Gold Rush to Gabriel’s Gully in 1862. — After Life and End of the Liverpool Emigrant Clippers. — The Burning of “Lightning”. — “Blue Jacket’s” Figure-head. — The Loss of the “Fiery Star.” — Some Famous Coal Hulks. — Loss of the “Young Australia.” — The Fate of “Marco Polo.”

—John Masefield.

FROM time immemorial the progress of the world, in colonization, in the Sciences (shipbuilding especially), and in the Arts owes its advance to the adventurous spirit of the pioneer. Particularly is this the case in the opening up of new countries and in the improvements in ship transport to those countries.

Kipling has sung the song of the pioneer and has laid stress on the pioneer spirit, but he has not touched on that great magnet which has ever drawn the pioneer on and dragged civilisation in his wake—the magnet of gold. Gold and its glamour has been the cause, one can almost say, of all the tragedy and all the evil in this world, but also of nearly all its good and all its progress.

It was the discovery of gold which opened up the fair States of Western America and brought about the building of the wonderful American clipper. In the same way the great Dominions of Australia and New Zealand owe their present state of progress and prosperity to that shining yellow metal; and without its driving power there would have been no history of the great Liverpool emigrant ships to record.

Before the discovery of gold in Australia, the trade of that Colony was at a low ebb, suffering from want of enterprise and financial depression; whilst the emigrant ships running from Liverpool and other British ports, owing to the want of healthy competition, were of a very poor description. The horrors of the long five-months passage for the miserable landsmen cooped-up in low, ill-ventilated and over-crowded ’tween decks, were fit to be compared with those of the convict ship. The few vessels with humane owners and kindly captains were in a class by themselves. These, indeed, thought of the health and comfort of the wretched emigrants and did not content themselves with merely keeping within the letter of the Government regulations, which might more fitly have been framed for traffic in Hell.

For first class passengers the splendid Blackwall frigates of Green, Money Wigram and Duncan Dunbar, and the beautiful little clippers of the Aberdeen White Star Line, provided excellent accommodation and a comfortable and safe, if not a particularly fast, passage. But the ordinary steerage passenger had to content himself as a rule with a ship that was little better than a hermetically sealed box: one as deep as it was long, with clumsy square bows and stern, with ill-cut ill-set sails—its standing rigging of hemp a mass of long splices; and with a promenade deck no longer than the traditional two steps and overboard.

These Colonial wagons were navigated by rum-soaked, illiterate, bear-like officers, who could not work out the ordinary meridian observation with any degree of accuracy, and either trusted to dead reckoning or a blackboard held up by a passing ship for their longitude; whilst they were worked by the typically slow-footed, ever-grousing Merchant Jack of the past two centuries.

Nearly everyone has read of the horror of the convict ships, but the following report of steerage conditions in 1844 plainly shows that in many respects the emigrant’s lot was every bit as hard and revolting: “It was scarcely possible to induce the passengers to sweep the decks after their meals or to be decent in respect to the common wants of nature; in many cases, in bad weather, they would not go on deck, their health suffered so much that their strength was gone, and they had not the power to help themselves. Hence the between decks were like a loathsome dungeon. When hatchways were opened, under which the people were stowed, the steam rose and the stench was like that from a pen of pigs. The few beds they had were in a dreadful state, for the straw, once wet with sea water, soon rotted, besides which they used the between decks for all sorts of filthy purposes. Whenever vessels put back from distress, all these miseries and sufferings were exhibited in the most aggravated form. In one case it appeared that, the vessel having experienced rough weather, the people were unable to go on deck and cook their provisions: the strongest maintained the upper hand over the weakest, and it was even said that there were women who died of starvation. At that time the passengers were expected to cook for themselves and from their being unable to do this the greatest suffering arose. It was naturally at the commencement of the voyage that this system produced its worst effects, for the first days were those in which the people suffered most from sea-sickness and under the prostration of body thereby induced were wholly incapacitated from cooking. Thus though provisions might be abundant enough, the passengers would be half-starved.”

This terrible report was given before a Parliamentary Committee.

It does not even mention the overcrowding which took place, owing to the smallness of the ships, which can well be realised by the following shipping notice taken from a Liverpool newspaper of January, 1845.

However, on the discovery of gold in 1851, the Colonial trade leapt out of its stagnation and squalor and at one bound became one of the most important in all the world’s Mercantile Marine. And when the gold fever drew a stream of ignorant English, Scotch and Irish peasants to Australia, men, women and children, most of whom had never seen a ship before they embarked and who were as helpless and shiftless as babes aboard, it was seen that something must be done to improve the conditions on the emigrant ships. Government regulations were made more strict and inspectors appointed; but the time had passed when they were needed—competition now automatically improved the emigrant ships from stern to stem.

The discovery of alluvial gold in Australia was mainly brought about by the great Californian strike of 1849. That strike upset the theories of geologists and set every man on the world’s frontiers searching for the elusive metal. The first authentic discovery in the Colonies was made near Clunes, in March, 1850, but it was not until September, 1851, that gold began to be found in such astounding quantities that large fortunes were rocked out in a few weeks.

The first licenses for diggers were issued in September, 1851; and the effect on the ports of Melbourne and Geelong was immediate—wages began to rise to fabulous heights, as did the common necessaries of life, even to wood and water. Shearers, harvesters and bushmen were soon almost unobtainable, and the very squatters themselves left their herds and flocks and rushed to the goldfields. The police and custom-house officials followed them, and in their turn were followed by the professional men of the towns—the doctors, lawyers and even clergymen. And as has ever been the case, sailors, running from their ships, were ever in the forefront of the stampede.

By the end of September there were 567 men at Ballarat; they, by means of the primitive Australian gold rocker, had rocked out 4010 ounces or £12,030 worth of gold, taking it at its then commercial value of £3 per ounce. There were only 143 rockers, yet this amount had been won in 712 days’ work, representing a day and a quarter’s work per man. At the beginning of November it was estimated that there were 67,000 ounces of gold in banks and private hands at Melbourne and Geelong. From this date new fields, to which wild stampedes took place, were discovered almost daily. Forrest Creek, Bendigo, Ararat, Dunolly and the Ovens all showed colour in turn.

It was some months before the news of the great Australian gold strike spread round the world, and one can well imagine the excitement on board the incoming emigrant ships, when they were boarded almost before their anchors were down and told the great news. Often successful miners would come off and prove their words by scattering gold on the deck, to be scrambled for, or by removing their hats and displaying rolls of bank notes inside them. Settlers, bereft of their servants, sometimes even came off with the pilot in their anxiety to engage men. Indeed it was commonly reported in the winter of 1851 that the Governor was compelled to groom his own horse.

With such stories flying about, and every native apparently in a state of semi-hysteria, it is not surprising that often whole ships’ crews, from the captain down, caught the gold fever and left their vessels deserted. Not even the lordly Blackwall liners with their almost naval discipline could keep their crews. The six-shooter and belaying pin were used in vain. Shipmasters were at their wits’ end where to get crews for the homeward run. £40 and even £50 was not found to be sufficient inducement to tempt sailors away from this marvellous land of gold. Even the gaol was scoured and prisoners paid £30 on the capstan and £3 a month for the passage.

By June, 1852, fifty ships were lying in Hobson’s Bay deserted by the crews. Nor were other Australian ports much better. The mail steamer Australian had to be helped away from Sydney by a detachment of volunteers from H.M. brig Fantome; and at Melbourne and Adelaide, where she called for mails, police had to be stationed at her gangways to prevent desertion, whilst at Albany she was delayed seven days for want of coal, because the crew of the receiving ship, who were to put the coal aboard, were all in prison to keep them from running off to the diggings.

Some description of Melbourne at this wonderful period of its history may perhaps be of interest.

From the anchorage, St. Kilda showed through the telescope as a small cluster of cottages, whilst across the bay a few match-boarding huts on the beach stood opposite some wooden jetties. Williamstown, indeed, possessed some stone buildings and a stone pierhead, but in order to get ashore the unhappy emigrant had to hire a boat. Then when he at last succeeded in getting his baggage on the quay, he had to guard it himself, or it would mysteriously disappear. Rather than do this, many a newly arrived emigrant put his outfit up to auction—acting as his own auctioneer on the pierhead itself. And as an outfit purchased in England for the Colonies is usually more remarkable for its weight than its suitability, those who did this generally profited by their astuteness. Melbourne itself could either be reached by a river steamboat up the Yarra Yarra, which at that time was not more than 25 feet wide in places; or by ferry boat across the bay and a two-mile walk from the beach by a rough trail through sand, scrub and marsh. When emigrants began to arrive in such numbers as to overflow Melbourne, the beach became covered with tents and shacks and was known as “canvas town.”

There were only 23,000 inhabitants in Melbourne at the time of the gold discovery. Its houses were mostly of wood and but one story high. With the exception of Collins, Bourke and Elizabeth Streets, which were paved, the streets were merely narrow muddy lanes, and there were no foot pavements. In the wet weather these lanes became torrents of water and many a carter reaped a harvest taking people across the road at sixpence a time.

Lucky diggers, down on the spree, easily distinguishable by their plaid or chequered jumpers, cabbage tree hats, moleskin trousers, and bearded, swarthy faces were to be seen everywhere. Many of them spent their time driving about in gaily decorated carriages accompanied by flashily dressed women covered with cheap jewellery. Amongst these charioteers, the uproarious British tar could always be picked out. He disliked driving at a slower pace than a gallop, and as often as not, instead of handling the ribbons, he would insist on riding postillion—and he was also unhappy unless his craft flew a huge Union Jack.

As usual with gold so easily come by, the lucky digger made every effort to get rid of his dust. Just as the buccaneer in the days of the Spanish Main, when back from a successful cruise, would pour his arrack and rum into the streets of Port Royal and invite all and sundry to drink at his expense, so in Melbourne the Australian digger stood champagne to every passer-by. It was being done across the Pacific in California. It was done on the Rand. It was done in the Klondyke. And some day it will be done again.

The shops, as usual, made more money than the diggers; and tradesmen, made casual by prosperity, adopted the “take it or leave it” tone and gave no change below a sixpence. The police were a nondescript force, mostly recruited from the emigrant ships, and the only emblem of their office was the regulation helmet. Indeed, dressed as they were, in the clothes in which they had arrived out, their appearance was not very uniform. However it was beyond the power of any force to preserve strict law and order at such a time, and the most that was expected of them was to keep the side walk and gutters clear of drunken miners and to pacify the pugnacious.

The “new chum” had hardly landed before he was regaled with hair-raising stories of bushrangers—apparently these gentry had an awkward habit of holding one up in the Black Forest on the way to the diggings. Thus firearms of every description were soon at a premium, many of them being more dangerous to the man who fired than to the man fired at.

Before leaving Melbourne for the sea, I must not omit to mention a well-known character of those days, namely George Francis Train. He combined the businesses of packer to the diggings and agent to the White Star Line. He was a real Yankee with an unceasing flow of flowery talk; and, after amassing a fortune in Melbourne, he returned to his native State and became a candidate for the American Presidency; and he informed everybody, that if he was elected, he intended reforming the world. Alas! they turned him down—he went broke and sank into obscurity. Appearances at the present day, however, seem to show that old Train managed to plant some of his seed in the White House.

The first ship to land Australian gold in the British Isles was admitted by most people to be the smart little Aberdeen White Star liner Phoenician, commanded by Captain Sproat, a great passage maker. She arrived off Plymouth on 3rd February, 1852, after a passage of 83 days from Sydney. This was considered a record for the run home. She brought 74 packages of gold dust, valued at £81,000.

The first ship to arrive in Liverpool with a gold cargo was the Eagle Line packet, Albatross, Captain Gieves. She arrived on 31st August, 1852, with £50,000 of gold dust; but, what was far more remarkable, was that she arrived with the same crew to a man with which she had left England.

This was a very different experience to that of her sister ship, the Eagle, which left Port Phillip on the 2nd September, after waiting six months for a crew, and then paying between £50 and £60 per man for the run home. Apparently though, the Eagle’s expensive crew were worth their money, for she made the quickest passage ever known up to that date, arriving in the Downs on the 78th day out. She also had a record gold shipment of 150,000 ounces.

With the arrival in England of larger and larger consignments of gold, there was such a rush to take shipping to the Antipodes that both the Emigration Commissioners and the shipowners found themselves unable to put sufficient tonnage on the berth to carry the clamouring hosts of adventurers. In London the magnificent frigate-built Blackwallers of Green, Money Wigram and Smith were diverted from the Indian trade in a vain attempt to stem the rush; whilst Liverpool shipowners began hiring or buying American Transatlantic packets and clippers, besides sending a shoal of orders across to the Boston and Nova Scotian shipbuilders. As fast as driving could make them, ships came crowding into Hobson’s Bay, just as they were still doing in San Francisco Bay on the other side of the Pacific; and it soon became no uncommon sight to see a dozen ships waiting inside the Heads for want of pilots to bring them up to the anchorage.

In the year 1852 102,000 people arrived in the Colony of Victoria, and in the 18 months following the discovery of Ballarat the population of Melbourne sprang from 23,000 to 70,000, and that of Geelong from 8000 to 20,000.

In the five years 1852-7, during which the rush to the diggings was at its height, 100,000 Englishmen, 60,000 Irish, 50,000 Scots, 4000 Welsh, 8000 Germans, 1500 French, 3000 Americans, and no less than 25,000 Chinese—not to speak of the other nationalities of the world, all of whom were represented—landed on the shores of Port Phillip.

Though undoubtedly the chief reason of orders to builders across the Western Ocean was cheapness, yet at the same time it was recognised that no ships that sailed the seas could approach the sailing records made by the “Down East” clippers of Maine and Nova Scotia. And everyone was in a violent hurry to get to the new Eldorado, so naturally took passage on the ship which had the greatest reputation for speed. Thus the Australian gold boom filled the shipyards of America with orders for large passenger carrying clippers. Indeed the only British firm which could in any way compete with the builders of the Yankee soft-wood ships—that of Hall, of Aberdeen—had not yet built a ship of over 1000 tons.

In more ways than one we owed America thanks for shortening the passage to Australia—and not least to the sailing directions advocated by her great wind expert Maury. In the days before the gold discovery vessels followed the route laid down by the Admiralty; they kept as much to the eastward as possible on their way south in order to avoid the dreaded Cape San Roque and its leeward currents; they rounded the Cape of Good Hope close to, indeed often touched there, then kept well to the north of the forties running their easting down. Then a 120-day passage was considered very good going, and when Captain Godfrey, of the Constance and Statesman, went out in 77 days by sailing on a Great Circle track, his performance created a huge sensation in shipping circles.

Maury did not actually advocate running the easting down on a Great Circle; but what he did was first to dispel the bugbear of Cape San Roque, which, however much it may have worried the leewardly craft of the old days, could have but little effect upon the fast weatherly ships of the fifties. He next showed the advantages of sailing on a Great Circle from San Roque so as to get into the high latitudes as soon as possible. He was dead against bracing sharp up against the S.E. trades.

“Australian-bound vessels are advised,” he writes, “after crossing the equator near the meridian of 30° W., say between 25° and 32°, as the case may be, to run down through the S.E. trades, with topmast studding sails set, if they have sea room, aiming to cross 25° or 30° S., as the winds will allow, which will be generally somewhere about 28° or 30° W., and soon, shaping their course, after they get the winds steadily from the westward, more and more to the eastward, until they cross the meridian of 20° E., in about lat. 45°, reaching 55° S., if at all, in about 40° E. Thence the best course—if ice, etc., will allow—is onward still to the southward of east, not caring to get to the northward again of your greatest southern latitude, before reaching 90° E. The highest latitude should be reached between the meridians of 50° and 80° E. The course then is north of east, gradually hauling up more and more to the north as you approach Van Dieman’s Land. The highest degree of south latitude, which it may be prudent to touch, depending mainly on the season of the year and the winds, the state of the ship, and the well-being of the passengers and crew.”

This last sentence was a very important qualification of the Great Circle route, and it is evident that Maury quite realised that only very powerful, well found ships could adventure far into the fifties without being made to pay severely for their temerity.

Constance was owned by James Beazley, Runnymede was a ship hired by the Emigration Commissioners, and Anna was a Fox Line packet. They were all under 1000 tons. Other passages which I have been unable to verily were—Bride, 75 days to Adelaide; Raleigh, 81 days to Perth; Cambridge, 81 days to Melbourne; and Progress, 82 days to Melbourne.

The keen competition set about by the gold find not only produced larger, faster ships, but much improved victualling and accommodation.

The improvement is well shown by this account of life aboard an Australian emigrant ship just nine years after that horrible 1844 report had been submitted.

The Eagle is a first-class ship, 187 feet in length, has three decks, viz., a spar or upper deck, main deck and ’tween deck. On the spar deck are placed the small boats, entrance to the cabin and main deck. Cabin and saloon passengers have the exclusive right to the poop; but, through the kindness of the captain, ladies from the ’tween decks are allowed to walk on it. On the main deck are situated the cabin and saloon, entrance to the ’tween decks, the galleys and the ropes to work the vessel with. The ’tween deck passengers have the right to walk on the spar deck from the poop to the bow.

The captain generally appears on deck about 6 a.m. After breakfast he mingles with the passengers, ready to hear and redress grievances.

At 10 a.m. Dr. Dunlevy attends at the hospital to give advice and medicine free of charge.

The passengers are divided into four leading divisions viz.:—Cabin passengers, saloon or house on deck passengers, second cabin passengers, ’tween deck and intermediate or third class passengers, who are again sub-divided into enclosed and open berths.

The accommodation in the berths is first rate. In the cabin the berths are 8 feet 2 by 5 feet 6 for two persons. There are a few double berths for families.

In the second cabin on deck, the sleeping berths are 6 feet by 4 feet 6 for two persons and there are a few double berths. The second cabin ’tween decks sleeping berths are divided into closed and open. The open berths are exclusively occupied by single men. The enclosed are occupied by families and single ladies.

Young ladies’ sleeping berths are in compartments of 4 or 6 beds and placed on one side of the ship—young men on the opposite side of the ship; families occupy berths on either side.

The same system is followed in the enclosed and open intermediate with the exception that some of the compartments for single people contain 8 beds.

After being at sea for two or three days, Mr. Nolein, the purser, came round and arranged the ’tween deck passengers into messes, giving to each mess a card with the names of the parties forming it and also its number. On the other side of the card is a printed list of the provisions for each adult per week.

In the second cabin ’tween decks each mess consists of 24 adults; in the enclosed intermediate 12; and in the open 10.

The first cabin is provided with three stewards and a stewardess, who attend on the passengers exclusively; and they are supplied with fresh provisions daily.

The second cabin on deck has two stewards. In both cabins passengers have nothing to provide but bed, bedding and napery.

In the second cabin ’tween decks each mess is provided with a steward. Passengers in this part of the ship only provide bed, bedding, napery and a small cask or tin bottle to hold their daily supply of fresh water.

In the intermediate no attendance is provided.

Messmen.—Each mess elects two of its number to act as messmen for one week. The messmen go to the purser to receive the provisions allowed it for the week. The day appointed on the Eagle for this purpose was Friday. They have also to go every day and receive the water; and divide it out to each individual if required. They have also to make puddings for the mess three times a week, as well as oatmeal cakes, loaf bread, etc.

In the intermediate each mess has to provide bags or dishes wherein to keep the provisions for the week; and also a dish to bring their tea, coffee, beef, soup, etc., from the cook, as the company provide no utensils for this part of the ship.

Water.—Fresh water is served out by the third mate to every messman once a day. Each adult is allowed three pints per day and the same allowance is given to the cook for the tea, coffee, soup, etc., for each person on board.

Hours.—The hour appointed for passengers going to bed is 10 p.m. When the bell strikes the purser comes round and sees that all lights are put out except those allowed to burn all night. Parties not going to bed at that hour must either go on deck or remain below in darkness, and they are not allowed to make any noise that would disturb those in bed.

Each passenger is expected to turn out of bed at 6 a.m. The doctor generally comes round in the morning to see that all are up, more especially in the hot weather.

Provisions.—Provisions are served out to each mess by the purser in rotation. He commences with the messes in the second cabin. He first serves out tea, coffee and sugar to mess No. 4, and goes over the whole messes by rotation with the same articles. The flour, oatmeal and rice are then served out in the same order and so on with the other articles until he has given out all the provisions. He then serves the intermediate, following the same order as the second cabin.

Cooking.—The ship has two galleys, two cooks and four assistants. The provisions used in the first cabin, house on deck and second cabin ’tween decks are cooked in the starboard galley; and those used by the third cabin or intermediate passengers and crew in the larboard galley. They also cook anything extra as ham for breakfast.

Loaves, oatmeal cakes, puddings, etc., must be taken up to the galley before a certain hour in the forenoon. Between meal times hot water is sometimes exchanged for cold water to old and delicate passengers.

Breakfast, Dinner, Supper.—The hour for breakfast is 8 o’clock, dinner at 1 and tea at 6. As all the messes cannot dine at once, they take it week about in rotation: for example, if messes 1, 3 and 5 mess first this week, they will be last in the week following.

The stewards in the cabins grind the coffee for their respective messes. The messmen in the intermediate grind their own coffee in the mill in the galley and carry water from the cook to infuse the coffee for their own mess. The stewards and intermediate messmen bring the dinners from the galley to their respective messes.

Tea is brought in the same way as coffee. Coffee is generally used for breakfast and tea for supper.

The floor of the intermediate saloon is scraped daily by the messes in rotation.

Washing Days.—Two days are set apart in each week for washing clothes. If those washing have not saved up fresh or collected rain water, they must wash them in salt water. Whether fresh or salt, it is always cold and the clothes are dried by tying them in the rigging.

Cleaning the Berths.—The stewards, besides scraping the floor, collect the slops of the mess every day.

Ventilation.—As regards this most important point, the Eagle must be classed A1.

The ventilation of the ship is on the same plan as that of the Cunard steamers. The first cabin saloon has two ventilators on deck, covered with glass panes at top and opening in the sides. The sleeping berths in the cabin are ventilated by windows in the sides and openings above each door.

The second cabin on deck sleeping berths have the windows in the sides, which slide so as to admit plenty of fresh air and also openings above each door. The saloon into which the sleeping berths open is ventilated by a large skylight on deck.

The second cabin ’tween decks has two ventilators, one on each side of the main deck. They are made of iron with openings all round, and are glazed on the top to prevent the water from coming down. The berths in the after part of it, right astern, are ventilated by windows in the stern and in the sides.

In addition to all this, there are three hatchways, and a ventilator on the upper deck, glazed on the top; and four windows on each side of the main deck, which slide up to admit fresh air. A space is left at the top of each berth for the same purpose.

The vessel is lighted by these windows and also by dead lights in the deck during the day; and at night by lanterns in each compartment and also by lanterns belonging to private individuals. The lights must be put out by 10 p.m., but one is allowed to burn all night in each division.

Liquors.—Ale and porter are sold to the ’tween deck passengers from 10 to 12 a.m. Passengers must obtain an order from the captain to obtain wine or spirits. Provisions or groceries can be purchased at any hour of the day.

Luggage.—Two small boxes, say 30 inches by 19 by 16, are much better than a large one. The one marked “not wanted on the voyage” is placed in the hold and brought to deck, if requisite, every three weeks.

The other is for use on the voyage and is placed under the owners’ sleeping berth. A carpet or canvas bag with pockets in the inside will be found a most useful article.

Clothing.—Each passenger must have two suits of clothing: one for cold, the other for warm weather. Any old clothing, provided it is whole, is good enough for use on the voyage. Coarse blue cloth trousers or fustian ones, with a short coat or jacket and vest of the same material, stand the voyage well; and light trousers such as canvas or shepherd tartan ones, that wash well, with an alpaca coat, are good for warm weather.

Articles for Daily Use.—A knife, fork, table and tea spoon, a pen knife, a hook pot, a baking can, a tin pot, capable of holding 2 or 3 gallons of water, a lantern, brushes, combs, a mirror and tooth and hair brushes with washing basin and a slop pail for each mess.

Each mess may have oatmeal cakes and loaf bread fired three or four times a week.

The Eagle, which was commanded by Captain Francis Boyle and owned by Gibbs & Bright, of Liverpool, may be taken as a good example of a well-run ship in the Australian emigrant trade during the fifties.

The above account was published in a newspaper printed on board, and gives a very thorough account of the routine. This, of course, varied in different ships and under different captains, but in the main points the methods of the best lines were the same.

On the passage during which the foregoing account was written, the Eagle went out from Liverpool to Hobson’s Bay in 80 days, her best 24 hours’ run being 315 miles.

Thanks to the activity and enterprise of Liverpool shipowners in ordering new ships, Liverpool became the starting point of the rush to the gold regions—the chief emigration port in the British Isles, not even excepting London. And such a name did Liverpool ships gain for their speedy passages that “Liverpool on her stern and bound to go” became a regular saying amongst seamen in the fifties.

Though many of the ships sent away from Liverpool to the Colonies were hired by the Government Emigration Department, these were only a small fraction of the vast fleet sailing out of the Mersey between 1852 and 1857. The most prominent firms in the great emigration trade from Liverpool to Australia were:—James Baines & Co., of the Black Ball Line; Pilkington & Wilson, of the White Star Line; James Beazley; Henry Fox, of the Fox Line; Miller & Thompson, of the Golden Line; and Fernie Bros., of the Red Cross Line.

Mr. JAMES BAINES.

Many of these firms, including the Black Ball and White Star, were brokers as well as owners, and very often the ships advertised in their sailing lists were privately owned.

The Black Ball Line, the most celebrated line of passenger ships, perhaps, in its day, owned its existence to a little self-made man named James Baines. And the Black Ball Line would never have become the great concern that it was in its palmy days if it had not been for this man’s foresight and enterprise. He, it was, who realised the genius of the great American shipbuilder, Donald Mackay, and gave him an order for four ships, the like of which the world had never seen before—ships which knowing men in the business pronounced to be too big and likely to prove mere white elephants once the first rush of gold seekers was over. However, James Baines, although he was but a young man of barely thirty, had the courage of his convictions, and he proved to be in the right, for it was these big Mackay clippers which really made the reputation of the Black Ball Line.

James Baines was a very lively, little man, fair with reddish hair. His vitality was abnormal and he had an enthusiastic flow of talk. Of an eager, generous disposition, his hand was ever in his pocket for those in trouble; and he was far from being the cool, hard-headed type of business man. He was as open as the day and hail-fellow-well-met with everybody, nevertheless his far-sightedness and his eager driving power carried him to the top in so phenomenally short a time that his career has become a sort of romantic legend in Liverpool.

He was born in Upper Duke Street, Liverpool, where his mother kept a cake and sweet shop, in which many a present-day Liverpool shipowner can remember stuffing himself as a boy. Indeed, Mrs. Baines had such a reputation that she is said to have made one of the wedding cakes for the marriage of Queen Victoria.

The following is the most generally-accepted story of James Baines’ first venture in ship-owning. In 1851 a dirty-looking ship with stumpy masts and apple-cheeked bows lay in the Queen’s Dock, Liverpool, with a broom at her masthead, thus indicating that she was for sale. This ship, which seafaring men contemptuously compared to a barrel of pork, had been cheaply built at Miramichi, and was evidently going for a song. James Baines scraped together what little money he had and bought her, sent her out to the Colonies and made a good profit on her; and this was the humble beginning of the great Black Ball Line, which in 1860 possessed 86 ships and employed 300 officers and 3000 seamen.

How James Baines came to take the house-flag and name of the well-known line of American packet ships, which had been running between New York and Liverpool since 1816, I have been unable to find out. One cannot but think, however, that this must often have occasioned confusion in Liverpool business circles.

James Baines’ success was, as I have said, meteoric, and to the end of the fifties he flourished exceedingly. He lived in a beautiful house, where he dispensed princely hospitality, drove a four-in-hand, and thought nothing of buying five ships in one day at Kellock’s Auction Rooms. But in the year 1860 his star began to set. Like many another, he was tempted by the steam-kettle, with the result that he amalgamated with Gibbs, Bright & Co., who had already deserted sail for that doubtful investment, auxiliary steam, and had started a service with the ill-fated Royal Charter and the equally well-known Great Britain.

The packets and steamers of the combine provided a service to Australia from Liverpool twice a month, but it is doubtful if the experiment proved a success financially. The chief cause, however, of James Baines’ downfall was the failure of Barnard’s Bank. At the same time it must be remembered that his soft-wood ships, many of which were old Yankee clippers already past their prime when he bought them, were becoming more and more strained and water-soaked, with the result that his repair bill was ever on the increase, and this just when other firms were building iron ships on purpose to compete with his wooden ones. The two last ships, in which he had any interest, were the Great Eastern and the Three Brothers, once upon a time Vanderbilt’s yacht and famous for its unsuccessful chase of the Alabama, now a hulk at Gibraltar.

Misfortunes, once they begin, have a habit of crowding upon one, and poor old James Baines, for some years before his death, had to depend for his subsistence on the charity of his friends. Indeed he was absolutely penniless when he died of dropsy on 8th March, 1889, in a common Liverpool lodging house. He was only 66 years of age at his death. Yet it will be a very long time before he and his celebrated ships are forgotten in Liverpool.

The White Star Line, the great rival of the Black Ball, was started by two young Liverpool shipbrokers, John Pilkington and Henry Threlfall Wilson. The actual ships owned by them were never very numerous, though they included the famous Red Jacket and White Star.

In 1867 Pilkington & Wilson wisely sold their soft-wood ships, which by this time were thoroughly strained and water-soaked, to various purchasers; and parted with their well-known house-flag to the late Mr. T. H. Ismay for £1000. Mr. Ismay was joined in partnership by Mr. Imrie, and these two men started the present White Star Line with iron sailing ships for the Australian trade, whilst Messrs. Pilkington & Wilson retired on their laurels.

I do not think anything shows the enterprise of the Black Ball and White Star Lines more clearly than the contracts which they signed in 1855 with Earl Canning, the Postmaster-General, for the carriage of the mails to Australia. Messrs. Pilkington & Wilson undertook to carry the mails in the following ships, Ben Nevis, Shalimar, Red Jacket, Emma, Fitzjames, Mermaid and White Star; and to land them in Australia in 68 days, or pay a penalty of £100 a day for every day over that time. James Baines was even more daring, for he accepted a contract to land the mails in 65 days with the same penalty attached.

The first ship to shorten the voyage between England and Australia was the famous Marco Polo, generally spoken of as the pioneer ship of the Black Ball Line.

“MARCO POLO.”

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The Marco Polo was built by Smith, of St. John’s, N.B., and is described by those who remember her as a common six-year Quebec timber ship, “as square as a brick fore and aft, with a bow like a savage bulldog,” a big thick lump of a black ship with tremendous beam, a vessel you could carry on to glory in, even to sporting lower and topmast stunsails in a strong gale.

The story goes that on her maiden voyage she arrived in Liverpool from Mobile with a cargo of cotton. Old Paddy McGee, the rag man and marine store dealer, bought her cheap and resold her at a great profit to James Baines, who refitted her from stem to stern for the emigrant trade.

It is hard to say whether there was really a touch of genius in the designing of Marco Polo, or whether she owned most of her reputation for speed to the wonderful driving power of her famous skipper. I am inclined to give James Baines credit for possessing a good eye for a ship, and this opinion is strengthened by the following description taken from the Illustrated London News of 1852.

This mid-Victorian account of a passenger ship and her internal decorations is interesting in more senses than one, but I fear that in these days when everyone seems to be an expert in the artistic merits of old furniture and house decoration, many of my readers will shudder at the Marco Polo’s crimson velvet cabin cushions, stained glass panels and richly ornamented pilasters. However, at the time all these fittings and arrangements for passengers were considered a great advance on anything previously attempted.

Marco Polo’s first commander was the notorious Captain James Nicol Forbes, who had previously commanded with great success the Black Ball ships Maria and Cleopatra in the Australian trade.

Bully Forbes is one of the best known characters in the history of the British Mercantile Marine. His career was as meteoric as his owner’s and had as sad an end. By two wonderful voyages in the Marco Polo and a still more wonderful one in the Lightning, he rushed to the head of his profession. Then came his eclipse in the wreck of the Schomberg. A life of Captain Forbes was printed in Liverpool at the time of his triumphs, but it is very scarce and practically unobtainable, and thus the history of this remarkable man has become shrouded in legend and fairy tale, and at this length of time it is difficult to separate the fact from the fiction.

He was born in 1821, a native of Aberdeen. In 1839 he left Glasgow for Liverpool without a shilling in his pocket; but he was a man who could not be kept down and he soon gained command of a ship; and at once began to astonish everybody by the way in which he forced indifferent ships to make unusually good passages. One of his first commands appears to have been an old brig, in which he made two splendid passages to the Argentine. His success with the Black Ball ships Maria and Cleopatra, which were neither of them clippers, gave him the command of Marco Polo and his chance to break all records.

In character Captain Forbes was a most resolute man, absolutely fearless, of quick decisions, but of a mercurial temperament. It goes without saying that he was a prime seaman—his wonderful passages in Marco Polo and Lightning are proof enough of this. And with regard to the Schomberg, I have little doubt in my own mind that Forbes was disgusted with her sluggishness and by no means sorry when she tailed on to the sandspit. But he evidently failed to foresee the bad effect her loss would have on his own reputation. In Liverpool, at the many banquets in his honour, he had been rather too ready to give wine-tinted promises as to what he would do with the Schomberg, and the chagrin of this, his first failure, was the real cause of his downfall.

After the wrecking of the Schomberg, he sank into obscurity, for though he was acquitted of all blame by the Court of Inquiry, he could not weather the disgrace. For some time he remained in Australia, a “very sad and silent man,” the very opposite of his usual self. However, in 1857 he obtained command of the Hastings, but lost her in December, 1859. All this time his star was setting, and for a while he was regularly “on the beach” in Calcutta. Then in 1862 we find him home again and acting as agent for the owners of a Glasgow ship called the Earl of Derby, which was in distress on the Donegal Coast. Soon after this in 1864, in the time of the cotton famine, he bobbed up in Hongkong in command of a ship called the General Wyndham, one of Gibbs, Bright & Co.’s, and there loaded cotton for Liverpool. He is described then as being a seedy, broken-down looking skipper, with the forced joviality of a broken-hearted man. He discussed the passage down the China Seas (it was S.W. monsoon time) with some of the tea clipper captains, and displayed all his old bravado, declaring that he would “force a passage.” However in spite of his big talk, he took 50 days to Anjer.

I have come across one characteristic story of his visit to Hongkong. He was insulted by two Americans on the Water Front; in a moment he had his coat off and did not let up until he had given them a good thrashing.

He commanded the General Wyndham till 1866, and that was the end of his sea service. He died at the early age of 52, on 4th June, 1874, in Westbourne Street, Liverpool. His tombstone is in Smithdown Road Cemetery, and on it is carved his claim to fame, the fact that he was “Master of the famous Marco Polo.”

As long as square-rig flourished, Forbes was the sailor’s hero, and of no man are there so many yarns still current in nautical circles.

He is the original of the story, “Hell or Melbourne,” though it has been told of Bully Martin and other skippers. The yarn goes that on one of his outward passages, his passengers, scared by the way in which he was carrying on, sent a deputation to him, begging him to shorten sail, and to his curt refusal, he added that it was a case of “Hell or Melbourne.” His reputation for carrying sail rivalled that of the American Bully Waterman, and the same methods are attributed to him, such as padlocking his sheets, overawing his terrified crew from the break of the poop with a pair of levelled revolvers, etc.

Captain Forbes was a very lithe, active man, and one day, as the result of a challenge, he crawled hand over hand from the spanker boom end to the shark’s fin on the jibboom, not such a difficult feat, though not a usual one for the master of a ship. Whilst on the Lightning, it was his custom to go out on the swinging boom when the lower stunsail was set, and to calmly survey his ship from the boom end, when she was tearing along before the westerlies. The danger of this proceeding can only be realised by an old sailor. If a man at the wheel had brought the ship a point or two nearer the wind, the probability is that Forbes would have been flung into the sea as the boom lifted or perhaps the boom itself would have carried away, as that was the usual way in which lower stunsail booms were smashed up.

Every man is supposed to have a lucky day, and Bully Forbes’ lucky day was a Sunday. On his record voyage in Marco Polo, he left Liverpool on a Sunday, sighted the Cape on a Sunday, crossed the line on a Sunday, recrossed the line homeward bound on a Sunday, and arrived back on Liverpool on a Sunday. After this you may be sure that he took care to start his second voyage on a Sunday.

On her first voyage to Australia Marco Polo was chartered by the Government Emigration Commissioners. She took out no less than 930 emigrants, these were selected with care and reported to be nearly all young and active Britishers. The married couples were berthed amidships, single women aft, and single men forward. There was a special hospital or sick bay and she also carried two doctors. In ventilation and comfort she was far ahead of any previous emigrant ship; on deck there were even provided large tubs, lined with lead, which the women could use for washing clothes. And the proof of her great superiority in arrangements for emigrants was at once proved on her passage out when she only had two deaths of adults on board, both from natural causes, and only a few of children from measles, this at a time when ships carrying half the number of emigrants arrived in Hobson’s Bay with from 50 to 100 deaths aboard.

Her officers were chosen from the best ships sailing out of Liverpool, Forbes’ chief mate being McDonald, who succeeded Forbes in command of Marco Polo and afterwards made a great name for himself in command of James Baines.

The regular crew of the Marco Polo numbered 30 men, but 30 other seamen worked their passage, so Forbes could afford to carry on till the last moment, especially as in emigrant ships the passengers were always ready for “pully-hauly,” in order to get exercise, and invariably tailed on to halliard or brace when there was occasion. Marco Polo, of course, had her full outfit of flying kites, and set three skysails on sliding gunter masts, man-of-war fashion, but she did not send aloft a moonsail at the main like her great successors Lightning, James Baines and Champion of the Seas. She had Cunningham’s patent topsails, and on one occasion reduced sail from royals to double reefs in 20 minutes.

Marco Polo’s departure was not allowed to take place without the usual banquet aboard previous to sailing, which was such a custom in the fifties. The dejeuner, as the reporters called it, was served on the ship’s poop under an awning. Mr. James Baines presided, and his partner Mackay and Captain Forbes were vice-chairmen. After the usual round on round of toasts, there was the usual speechifying.

James Baines opened the ball by the customary optimistic speech. Mr. Munn, of the Cunard Company, followed with the hope that as the Marco Polo was the largest ship ever despatched to Australia, so she would be the most prosperous. Mr. Mackay said that he never felt so much responsibility, as he did that day, when he found nearly 1000 souls on board the Marco Polo; and Captain Forbes finished up by the characteristic remark that “he judged from the appearance of her sticks and timbers that she would be obliged to go; and that they must not be surprised if they found the Marco Polo in the River Mersey that day six months.”

This prophecy the people of Liverpool duly saw fulfilled. The Marco Polo was advertised to sail on the 21st June, but she did not actually sail until Sunday, 4th July.

The following is the first shipping notice of this wonderful ship:—

After sailing on 4th July, the Marco Polo arrived inside Port Phillip Heads at 11 a.m. on 18th September, 1852, after a record passage of 68 days, having beaten the steamer Australia by a clear week. Running her easting down her best day’s work was 364 miles, and in four successive days she covered 1344 miles, an average of 336 a day.

On his arrival in Hobson’s Bay, Captain Forbes found some 40 or 50 ships waiting to sail, held up for want of crews; whereupon he promptly had his own crew clapped into prison on a charge of insubordination, with the result that they were ready to hand when he wanted them and thus he was able to set sail again for Liverpool on 11th October, 1852.

Leaving at 5 a.m. on the 11th, the Marco Polo passed Banks Straits on the 12th and sighted the Auckland Islands on the 17th. On her passage to the Horn she made three successive runs of 316, 318 and 306 miles, and on 3rd November when she made the Horn she logged 353 knots in the 24 hours, the weather being recorded as fine. On the 5th November she passed Staten Island; and on 19th December saw a barque apparently abandoned, and an empty long-boat painted stone colour. Forbes showed blue lights and fired rockets, but, receiving no reply and being naturally in a great hurry, proceeded on his way; and finally arrived off Holyhead at 3 p.m. on Christmas Day and anchored in the Mersey on Sunday, 26th December, 1852, 76 days out from Melbourne and only five months and 21 days out on the whole voyage.

This was so much a record that many shipping people when they recognised her lying in the Mersey thought that she must have put back disabled in some way.

And the story goes that a waterman, meeting James Baines in the street, said:—“Sir, the Marco Polo is coming up the river.” “Nonsense, man,” returned Mr. Baines, “the Marco Polo has not arrived out yet.” Less than an hour after this assertion, James Baines found himself face to face with Captain Forbes.

When the ship hauled into the Salthouse Dock, the quays were crowded with people. Between her fore and main masts a huge strip of canvas was suspended with the following painted on it in huge black letters:—The Fastest Ship in the World.

On this passage she again beat the Australia by more than a week, many bets having been made in Melbourne as to which ship would arrive first. After such a voyage Marco Polo was at once considered to be the wonder of the age and people flocked from all parts of England to see her.

Her officers declared that she made 17 knots an hour for hours together; and Doctor North, the chief Government surgeon on board, who had been in the ship Statesman when she made her celebrated passage of 76 days from Plymouth to Australia, declared that the Marco Polo was by a long way the fastest vessel he had ever sailed in and vastly superior to the Statesman.

The Marco Polo brought home £100,000 in gold dust, and her officers related that on her arrival out she was surrounded by boats, the occupants of which threw small nuggets amongst her passengers. She also brought home a nugget of 340 ounces, purchased by the Government of Victoria as a present for the Queen.

After such a record voyage, I find the following notice advertising her second departure for Australia.

Before the Marco Polo was hauled out of the Salthouse Dock for her second voyage, another large dejeuner was given on board, at which testimonials were presented to Captain Forbes and Charles McDonald, his first officer. The usual flowery speeches were made, but the remarks of Bully Forbes were especially characteristic. He said that “as regards his recent voyage, he had done his best and he could not say he would do the same again, but if he did it, he would do it in a shorter time. (Laughter.) He was going a different way this time, a way that perhaps not many knew of, and the Antelope must keep her steam up or he would thrash her (referring to the challenge of a race round the world sent him by Captain Thompson, of the steamer Antelope). Captain Thompson only wanted to get outside Cape Clear and he could make a fair wind into a foul one. (Laughter.) That he (Forbes) would do his best for the interests of his employers and while the Black Ball Line had a flag flying or a coat to button, he would be there to button it.”

The Marco Polo sailed on her captain’s favourite day and also on the 13th of the month, namely, on Sunday, 13th March, 1853. She had on board 648 passengers and £90,000 of specie. The emigrants were composed chiefly of men of the artisan class, and there were very few women amongst them. This seemed to be a matter of great regret, and as the ubiquitous newspaper reporter had it:—“One young gentleman, whose incipient moustache and budding imperial showed that he was shaping his course for the diggings, was heard to express his sorrow that there were not more ladies, as ‘they exercised such a humanising tendency on mankind, don’t you know.’” The reporter goes on to describe how one of the passengers was arrested for burglary just before sailing and his luggage found to be full of jewellery and watches; and how a first class passenger (who had left a good legal practice for the land of nuggets), dressed in huge sea boots, a blue shirt and marine cap, lent a ready hand in hoisting the anchor and setting the sails and joined in “the boisterous refrains of the sailors with evident pleasure.” The anchor was weighed soon after 10 o’clock and the Marco Polo was towed to sea by the Independence. The day was beautifully fine, and James Baines and his partner Miller proceeded in the ship to beyond the N.W. Lightship, returning in the tug.

Bully Forbes was in a very confident mood, and, as soon as the ship was under weigh, had his passengers called together and addressed them as follows:—“Ladies and gentlemen, last trip I astonished the world with the sailing of this ship. This trip I intend to astonish God Almighty!” Then turning to his ebony cook, who went by the name of Doctor Johnson, he said:—“Search well below, doctor, and if you find any stowaways, put them overboard slick.”

“Ugh, ugh!” chuckled the sable doctor as he shuffled below. In a short time he reappeared with an Irishman whom he had found concealed in the quarters of a married couple.

“Secure him and keep a watch over the lubber, and deposit him on the first iceberg we find in 60° S.,” growled Forbes, with mock fierceness. The stowaway, however, was returned in the tug with the ship’s owners.

The Marco Polo’s best runs on the outward passage were the following:—

These were nothing extraordinary; however she again made a very good passage and arrived at Melbourne on 29th May, 75 days out. She left Melbourne again at 5 p.m. on 10th June, with 40 cabin passengers and £280,000 of gold dust.

Her best runs this passage were, of course, made on the way to the Horn, being:—

But on the 23rd in 60° S. her progress was severely stopped by large quantities of small ice, which tore all the copper off her bow.

On the 26th June, when in 141° W., a large ship was sighted astern which proved to be Money Wigram’s famous Blackwaller Kent, which had sailed 5 days ahead of Marco Polo.

From 27th June to 1st July only small runs could be made, the ship being surrounded by ice, but with strong northerly winds to help her, she cleared the ice on the 1st and at once started to make up time, running 303 miles on 2nd July, 332 on the 3rd, 364 on the 4th and 345 on the 5th. And on 18th July in 49° 30′ S., with strong S.W. wind, she made her last run of over 300.

However, in spite of these fine runs to the southward, the passage was a good deal longer than Forbes anticipated, as Marco Polo was 95 days out when, on 13th September she arrived in the Mersey.

Nevertheless she had made the round voyage in the very good time of exactly 6 months, and when Captain Forbes appeared “on Change” about 1 o’clock on the 13th “the cheering was long and loud and he received a hearty welcome from all the merchants assembled.”

At the end of her second voyage Bully Forbes left the Marco Polo to take over the Lightning, and was succeeded by his chief mate Charles McDonald.

Leaving Liverpool in November, 1853, with 666 passengers, McDonald took her out in 72 days 12 hours or 69 days land to land, and brought her home in 78 days. Then he left her to take over the James Baines and a Captain W. Wild had her. By this time it is probable that she was getting pretty badly strained, being a soft-wood ship, and whether Captain Wild and his successor Captain Clarke were not sail carriers or did not like to press her too much, I do not know, but her fourth and fifth voyages were not specially good, her times being:—

She was still, however, a favourite ship, taking 520 passengers out and bringing home 125,000 ounces of gold under Captain Clarke.

On her sixth voyage she for the first time got into trouble as she parted her tow rope when leaving the Mersey and got aground off the Huskisson Dock, after first colliding with a barque at anchor in the river. However she came off on the flood without damage and sailed for Melbourne on 7th December, 1855, arriving out on 26th February, an 83-day passage. In 1856 she went out in 89 days, leaving Liverpool 5th September.

Her most serious mishap was on her passage home in 1861, when she collided with an iceberg on 4th March. Her bowsprit was carried away, bow stove in and foremast sprung; in fact, so seriously was she damaged that she was very near being abandoned. Eventually, however, she managed to struggle into Valparaiso after a month of incessant pumping. Here she was repaired and, continuing her voyage, at length arrived at Liverpool on 21st August, 183 days out from Melbourne.

Though Messrs. James Baines sold her to another Liverpool firm in the early sixties, she still continued regularly in the Melbourne trade, and as late as 1867 I find another fine passage to her account, which is thus described by Captain Coates in his Good Old Days of Shipping:—“Captain Labbet, of Brisbane, once told me that in January, 1867, he took passage home in the steamship Great Britain. The Marco Polo left at the same time and was soon lost sight of. A week later the look-out man of the Great Britain reported a sail right ahead, and shortly afterwards expressed his belief that it was the Marco Polo, in which ship he had previously sailed. His opinion, however, was scoffed at; on the ship being neared he proved to have been right. She was again distanced and the Great Britain made what was esteemed a good passage. On taking the pilot off Cork, the first question asked was:—“Have you seen the Marco Polo?” The reply came:—“Yes, she passed up 8 days ago.” She had made the passage in 76 days.

The Marco Polo was followed across the Atlantic by numerous other Nova Scotian built ships from the yards of W. & R. Wright and Smith.

The most notable of these were the Ben Nevis, which arrived during the summer of 1852, and the Star of the East, Miles Barton, Guiding Star and Indian Queen, which arrived at Liverpool in 1853. All these ships were intended to lower the colours of Marco Polo, but not one of them succeeded in doing so, though they made some very good passages.

The Ben Nevis was the first ship owned by Pilkington & Wilson. She was, however, too short and deep for her tonnage, her measurements being:—

Commanded by Captain Heron, she sailed for Melbourne on 27th September, 1852, with 600 passengers, a cabin passage in her costing £25, and she took 96 days going out.

A far more worthy ship to compete with the Marco Polo was the Star of the East, which arrived in Liverpool on 5th March, 1853, 20 days out from St. John’s against strong N.E. winds. She was built by W. &. R. Wright, her dimensions being:—

The following are some of her spar measurements:—

At the time of her launch she was considered the finest ship ever built at St. John’s. On her arrival in Liverpool she was at once bought by Mr. James Beazley, having cost him when ready for sea £22,683. She loaded for Australia in the Golden Line, and went out to Melbourne in 76 days under Captain Christian, late of Beazley’s Constance. From Melbourne she went to Sydney and loaded across to Shanghai; then sailing from Shanghai in the favourable monsoon, arrived home in 104 days, 4 of which were spent anchored off Gutztaff Island in a typhoon. The whole voyage only occupied 9 months 27 days, and she cleared £8018 clear profit. Her second voyage on the same route she did still better, clearing £8920.

The Miles Barton measured:—

She also was bought by James Beazley and loaded in the Golden Line. On her maiden voyage she went out to Melbourne in 82 days, and followed up this performance with two trips of 76 days each.

Arrived in Liverpool in October, 1852, and was at once chartered by the Golden Line for £12,000, considered a huge sum in those days. Her life, however, was not a long one, as she was lost with all hands between January and April, 1854, and it was generally supposed that she became embayed and back-strapped by a huge ice island in about 44° S., 25° W.

Tragic encounters with ice were by no means unusual in the fifties when every passage maker was trying to follow out Maury’s instructions by running far down into southern latitudes in search of strong fair winds.

The Indian Queen, 1041 tons, the most notable Black Baller launched in 1853, and advertised as Marco Polo’s sister ship, was a very fast vessel, her first voyage to Australia being made in 6 months 11 days, and in 1855 she came home from Hobart in 78 days. In 1859 she narrowly escaped the fate of Guiding Star. On 13th March, 1859, she sailed from Melbourne for Liverpool under Captain Brewer, with 40 passengers and the usual cargo of wool and gold dust. All went well until she was half way to the Horn, when on the 27th March the weather became thick with a strong N.W. wind and heavy westerly swell.

On the 31st March she was in 58° S., 151° W. by account; the day was wet, foggy and very cold and the ship logged a steady 12 knots with the wind strong at N.W. At 2 a.m. on the following morning those below were aroused by a violent shock, the crash of falling spars and a grinding sound along the port side, and the first of the frightened passengers to arrive on the poop found the ship lying broadside to broadside with an immense iceberg. All her spars and sails above the lower masts were hanging over the starboard side, the foremast was broken off close to the deck and was held at an angle by its rigging, the mainyard was in half, the bowsprit was washing about under the bows, and though the mizen topmast was still standing the topsail yard was in two, broken in the slings.

The night was dark and rainy and at first the watch below and passengers thought that all was lost. They found no one at the wheel, the port life-boat gone, and not a soul on the poop, but they were somewhat reassured by the appearance of the carpenter who had been sounding the pumps and pronounced the ship to be making no water. Then the second mate appeared aft and announced that the captain, mate and most of the crew had gone off in the port life-boat. Apparently there had been a disgraceful panic which involved even the captain, who actually left his own son, an apprentice, behind on the ship.

However those who had been so shamefully deserted began to buckle to with a will, headed by the second mate, Mr. Leyvret, and the cool-headed carpenter, a man named Thomas Howard. Passengers, cooks, stewards and those of the crew left on board were promptly divided into watches, the captain’s son was sent to the wheel, and whilst some set about clearing up the raffle of gear and getting things ship-shape as far as possible, others shovelled the ice, which lay in masses on the decks, overboard.

With some difficulty the crossjack was backed and the head of the spanker hauled in. At the same time the boat was perceived tossing in the swell on the port beam and apparently endeavouring to regain the ship, and faint cries for help could be heard against the wind. She seemed to be without oars and with sea after sea washing over, she was soon swept past the ship by the back wash off the ice and lost sight of in the fog never to be seen again. The ship, though, with the backed crossjack, began to drift along the side of the berg and presently dropped clear of it into smoother water to leeward.

Day now began to break and all hands set about cutting away the wreck, but the mainyard and the rest of the raffle hanging from the stump of the mainmast was hardly clear before the terrible cry of “Ice to leeward!” arose and a huge berg appeared looming out of the mist. The crossjack was at once braced up, the spanker set and the foresail trimmed in some fashion or other, then in a tense silence the survivors watched the ship slowly forge ahead and, dragging the wreck of masts and spars and torn sails along with her, weather the new danger by a bare 100 yards. And scarcely had she done so when the foremast fell crashing on to the long-boat, the other boats having been already stove in by falling spars. The next business was to get the wreck of the foremast over the side and clear of the ship. Here the carpenter displayed the greatest coolness and skill, being ably backed up by the second mate and the 4 seamen left on board. With the last of the wreck overside, time was found to muster the survivors, when it was discovered that the captain, chief mate and 15 men had been lost in the port life-boat, leaving behind the second mate, carpenter, bosun, 4 A.B.’s, 1 O.S. and 2 boys, besides the cooks, stewards, doctor, purser, and passengers who numbered 30 men, 3 women and 7 children.

A course was now steered for Valparaiso, some 3800 miles away. It was not until the 7th April that the ship got finally clear of the scattered ice, but on the 3rd the wind came out of the south and with a lower stunsail and main staysail set on the main, the ship began to make 3 or 4 knots through the water.

One iceberg of huge size and square like a mountainous box was only just cleared before it broke in two, the smaller portion bursting into the sea like an avalanche, and sweeping a huge wave in front of it, did not bring up until it was 2 to 3 miles away from the rest of the berg. The last ice was seen in 54° S., it being reckoned that the accident had happened in 60° S.

As soon as 49° S. was reached, a direct course was shaped for Valparaiso. Sheers were now rigged and a topmast secured to the stump of the foremast, then topsail yards were crossed on the jury foremast and mainmast, which improved the ship’s progress another knot. In this condition the Indian Queen slowly wandered north, weathering out gale after gale. On the 7th May a welcome sail was sighted. This proved to be the New Bedford whaler La Fayette, whose captain boarded them, offered them every assistance and corrected their longitude, which was 3° out. On the following day the French man-of-war Constantine appeared and promised to convoy them in. On the 9th May land was made some 20 miles south of Valparaiso, and on the morning of the 10th, as the crippled Indian Queen approached the Bay, the boats of H.M.S. Ganges, 84 guns, came out to her aid and towed her in to the Roads, where she anchored safely, just 40 days after her collision with the iceberg.

My notes on the emigrant ships sailing from Liverpool in 1853 would not be complete without some mention of the celebrated American clipper Sovereign of the Seas. This ship was built by Donald Mackay for the American Swallowtail Line and at the time of her launch, June, 1852, was hailed as the largest merchant ship in the world, her measurements being:—

Her lower masts from deck to cap were:—
Foremast 89 feet; mainmast 93 feet; mizen 82 feet.

Her lower yards measured in length:—
Foreyard 80 feet; mainyard 90 feet; crossjack yard 70 feet.

And her topsail yards:—
Fore topsail yard 63 feet; main 70 feet; mizen 56 feet.

She spread 12,000 yards of canvas in her working suit.

On her maiden voyage she carried a crew of 105 men and boys, including 2 bosuns, 2 carpenters, 2 sailmakers, 3 stewards, 2 cooks, 80 A.B.’s and 10 boys before the mast. She was commanded by Donald Mackay’s younger brother, Captain Lauchlan Mackay, one of the best known skippers in the United States.

Loading 2950 tons of cargo and receiving 84,000 dollars freight, she sailed from New York for San Francisco on 4th August, 1852; and considering the season of the year, she made a wonderful run south, crossing the equator in 25 days and reaching 50° S. in 48 days.

“SOVEREIGN OF THE SEAS.”

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She was nine days making the passage of the Horn from 50° S. to 50° S.; but shortly after rounding the Horn she carried away her fore and main topmasts and sprang her foreyard. Captain Mackay, however, kept the seas and refitted his ship in 14 days, during the whole of which time he is said to have remained on deck, snatching what little sleep he allowed himself in a deck chair. The Sovereign of the Seas in spite of this mishap arrived in San Francisco only 103 days out, and this was considered the best passage ever made at such an unfavourable season of the year.

From San Francisco she went across to Honolulu in ballast and there loaded a cargo of sperm oil; it being the custom of American whalers to call in there and leave their oil for transhipment so as to clear their holds for a fresh catch.

The Sovereign of the Seas left Honolulu on 13th February, 1853, for New York, and once again made a most remarkable passage in spite of a sprung fore topmast, jury fore topgallant mast and a weak crew—no doubt a large number of her original crew deserted in San Francisco in the hope of reaching the gold diggings, but more probably only to be shanghaied on some homeward bounder.

Like all Mackay’s wonderful creations, the Sovereign of the Seas was at her best in the roaring forties, and on the run to the Horn she made 3144 miles in 10 days, her best 24-hour runs being:—

During this time she had strong quartering winds and a heavy following sea, which drove her at times as much as 19 knots through the water.

After rounding the Horn, she had the usual weather up through the tropics, and arrived at New York on 6th May, 1853, having made the record passage of 82 days from Honolulu.

As she was considered to be too big for either the San Francisco or China trades, she was at once loaded for Liverpool, there to take part in the booming Australian emigrant trade.

And crossing the Western Ocean she once more made an extraordinary passage, as the following epitome shows:—

Donald Mackay crossed the Atlantic on the ship and spent his whole time watching her every movement, and it was probably the experience gained on this passage which had much to do with the wonderful success of his later vessels.

On her arrival in Liverpool the Sovereign of the Seas was at once chartered by the Black Ball Line. Captain Lauchlan Mackay, however, did not remain in her, but returned to New York, his place being taken by Captain Warner, who had been in the ship since she was launched.

Captain Warner sailed from Liverpool on 7th September, 1853, with 25 first cabin, 40 second cabin passengers and a cargo valued at £200,000, and wrote the following account of his passage to the Liverpool Mercury:—

Sovereign of the Seas’ passage was, in fact, an exceedingly good one, considering all things, but there was not much glory attached to beating the little Gauntlet, which only measured 693 tons register and was built of iron.

The Sovereign of the Seas sailed from Melbourne with the mails and a very large consignment of gold dust; but amongst her crew she had shipped some old lags, who attempted a mutiny in order to seize the ship and get away with the gold. However, Captain Warner succeeded in suppressing these rascals without bloodshed and kept them in irons for the rest of the passage.

The Sovereign of the Seas made the splendid time of 68 days between Melbourne and Liverpool; but after this one voyage for the Black Ball she seems to have returned to her original owners, who put her into the Shanghai trade for a voyage or two before selling her to a Hamburg firm.

The result of Sovereign of the Seas’ visit to Liverpool and that of her builder and designer Donald Mackay was a further order to America and Nova Scotia for still bigger ships.

In fact, Donald Mackay returned to Boston with James Baines’ commission to build the famous quartette, Lightning, Champion of the Seas, James Baines and Donald Mackay, which were shortly to astonish the world. Against these the White Star Line put forward the equally big White Star and Red Jacket, two vessels which both in strength, beauty and speed were worthy to be ranked on equal terms with the great Black Ballers.

Only two wooden ships were ever launched in England which could compare in size with these six giants. One of these was the ill-fated Schomberg and the other the beautiful Sobraon, which, however, had iron frames and was not launched until the palmy days of the gold rush were over. Both came from the famous yard of Hall, of Aberdeen. Schomberg was, of course, wrecked on her maiden passage, but Sobraon, though never as hard sailed as the great Black Ball and White Star ships, made equally good passages, and being built of the finest Malabar teak retained her speed right up to the end of her long and successful career.

In comparing the measurements of the American built, Nova Scotian built and Aberdeen built ships the most noticeable point is the greater beam of the Nova Scotians and the greater length of the British.

This is well shown by the following table:—

Perhaps no ships ever sailed the seas which held on to their canvas longer than these great Black Ball and White Star clippers; and yet the carrying away of spars and sails, which was so common an occurrence with the earlier American clippers and also with the early British iron clippers, was quite rare on these big emigrant ships.

There is no difficulty, however, in finding reasons for their freedom from dismasting and heavy casualties aloft, their designers and builders had learnt something by the dismastings and constant losses of spars which overtook their earlier ships, and thus no ships were more scientifically stayed than these big ships, at the same time in their outfit we find hemp rigging and wooden spars in their highest state of efficiency. Strength of gear had for some time been one of the chief problems that a clipper ship builder had to contend with, and in the rigging of these six famous ships we see this problem finally mastered.

Topsails, topgallant sails and even royals were diagonally roped from clew to earing. The rope used for standing rigging was the very best procurable and of immense thickness; for instance, Lightning’s lower rigging, fore and main stays and backstays were of 11½ inch Russian hemp; whilst in regard to spars, here are the diameters in inches of some of James Baines’ masts and yards:—

But added to their greater strength aloft these great clippers had another advantage over their older sisters in the Californian trade.

They sailed on a lighter load line and showed a higher side. Four or five hundred emigrants made them dry and buoyant instead of wet and hard mouthed. Besides being very easy in a sea-way, these big emigrant clippers were extraordinarily steady ships without any tendency to heavy quick rolling. This is easily proved from their logs, for one constantly reads that their passengers were able to enjoy dancing on the poop when the ships were running 15 and 16 knots before the strong gales and big seas of easting weather.

Speaking at a dinner given in Melbourne in honour of Captain Enright, Mr. Alexander Young, a veteran voyager to and from the Antipodes, who had just travelled out in the Lightning, remarked:—“I have much pleasure in adding my slight testimony to her well-earned fame by stating that she is the driest and easiest ship I have ever sailed in. I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that we scarcely shipped a bucketful of water all the passage, and when going 16 knots an hour there was scarcely any more motion than we feel at the present moment.”

And here are other proofs of the Lightning’s steadiness taken from the Lightning Gazette, a newspaper published on board:—

Two or three quotations also from the log books and shipboard newspapers may be of interest to show the power of these ships to carry sail in heavy weather and strong winds.

Here are two days from the log of the James Baines when running her easting down in 1856:—

Then in the Lightning Gazette I find the following entries:—

I have quoted the above passages to show the way in which a Black Baller could carry sail either with a fresh favouring gale or in a strong head wind. This is sufficiently astonishing in itself, but what amazes most present day sailors and compels many of them to be incredulous are such statements as the much quoted one concerning James Baines—“Ship going 21 knots with main skysail set.”

This and other log book statements have been looked upon by many as far-fetched exaggerations, but, after careful study of the subject, during which I have pricked off the different voyages on a track chart, I have come to the conclusion that these amazing performances were in no way a stretching of the imagination.

To begin with, I will give the main arguments advanced against them by the sceptics.

The late Mr. J. N. Barry, writing in an Australian paper, remarks:—

Another nautical writer remarks:—

And I have had letters scoffing at the Black Ball records, remarking that their skippers were a leery lot and provided “palatable pabulum for the proud passengers.”

I will now try and show that these arguments were altogether too sweeping, and if they may possibly have applied to certain individuals, they are by no means fair to the greater number of the skippers.

In the first place, not one of the Black Ball or White Star ships was commanded by an American, and though the accusation was levelled at Americans, it was evidently done in the belief that the American built Australian clippers were commanded by Americans.

In the second place, such men as Anthony Enright, of the Lightning, James Nicol Forbes, of the Marco Polo, Charles McDonald, of the James Baines, Sam Reid, of the Red Jacket, Captain Pryce, R.N.R., of the Donald Mackay, and Alexander Newlands, of the Champion of the Seas, were known and respected all over the world as leading men in their profession, occupying a position in the Mercantile Marine which would correspond with that of Orient and P. & O. commanders nowadays, whilst their performances were very much more widely known, thus such elementary cheating as giving 60 miles to a degree in the roaring forties would have been exposed at once.

The greatest 24-hour run ever accomplished by a sailing ship was one of 436 nautical miles made by the Lightning when crossing the Atlantic on her maiden passage. The second greatest run was also made by the Lightning. This was 430 miles when running her easting down bound out to Australia in 1857, and on the following day her run was 360. This wonderful performance drew the following letter from Captain Enright to his passengers, and I think it will dispose of the 60 miles to a degree accusation, at any rate as far as the Lightning and her commander are concerned:—

If further proof is wanted that Captain Enright did not allow 60 miles to a degree, but only 44 as he states to his passengers, here are the noon positions found by observation, not account only, from which the runs can be verified on the chart.

The following is a list of all runs of 400 miles and over, which I have been able to verify.

All these performances were made running east, making the day’s work under 24 hours.

Several other ships claimed runs of over 400 miles, but I have not included these as I have not sufficient particulars to verify them.

Marco Polo is supposed to have done a run of 428 miles under Captain McDonald on 7th January, 1854, and Shalimar 420 miles in 1855 on her first passage to Australia, under Captain Robertson. With this general account of their powers I must now return to a more detailed description of the giant clippers themselves.

The Lightning was built by Donald Mackay to the order of James Baines in the winter of 1853-4 at a cost of £30,000, and on her arrival in Liverpool was furnished and decorated below at a further cost of £2000.

“LIGHTNING.”

From a painting.

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Her measurements were:—

Her poop was 92 feet long and her saloon 86 feet, whilst she had 8 feet under the beams in her ’tween decks, a most unusual height for those days.

With regard to design, she was one of the sharpest ships ever launched. Her model is thus described by Captain H. H. Clark:—“She had long, concave water-lines and at her load displacement line a cord from her cut-water to just abaft the fore rigging showed a concavity of 16 inches. Her stem raked boldly forward, the lines of the bow gradually becoming convex and blending with the sheer line and cut-water, while the only ornament was a beautiful full-length figure of a young woman holding a golden thunderbolt in her outstretched hand, the flowing white drapery of her graceful form and her streaming hair completing the fair and noble outline of the bow.

“The after-body was long and clean, though fuller than the bow, while the stern was semi-elliptical in form, with the plank sheer moulding for its base, and was ornamented with gilded carved work, though this really added nothing to the beauty of the strong sweeping outline of her hull.”

The Lightning’s spar and rigging measurements were tremendous:—

She spread 13,000 yards of canvas when under all plain sail. Donald Mackay had her rigged as a three skysail yard ship, but later Messrs. James Baines fitted her with a moonsail on the main by lengthening the skysail mast. This was also done in the case of James Baines. And these two ships had the proud distinction of being perhaps the only two ships afloat which regularly crossed a moonsail yard.

The Lightning was provided with iron water tanks holding 36,000 gallons of water—a novelty at that date. And in various other ways her accommodation for passengers was an improvement on anything attempted before.

The great Bully Forbes was sent out to Boston to superintend her outfit and take command of her, and he was lucky in finding a valuable friend and adviser in Captain Lauchlan Mackay, who made the trip to Liverpool in her as builders’ representative.

The Red Jacket, Lightning’s great rival, was designed by Samuel A. Pook, of Boston, the well-known designer of Game-cock, Surprise, Northern Light, Ocean Telegraph, Herald of the Morning, and other famous clipper ships. She was built by George Thomas at Rockland, Maine, for Messrs. Seacomb & Taylor, and only took the water a few days before the Lightning.

Her measurements were:—

Though her bow and stern were very sharp and beautifully modelled and she had concave bow lines, she was not so extreme a ship as the Lightning.

“RED JACKET.”

From an old lithograph.

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Donald Mackay’s ships were chiefly distinguished for their powerful workmanlike appearance rather than for delicate beauty—they showed strength rugged and unmistakable, but the Red Jacket’s strength was more disguised under graceful curves; for instance, she had the graceful arched stem and clipper bow of a China ship, whereas Lightning’s stem was almost straight, with only a very slight curve in it.

Red Jacket was not named after Tommy Atkins, but after a great Indian chief, and her figure-head was a beautiful representation of this warrior in all the magnificence of feather head-dress and beaded buckskins.

The Lightning loaded at Constitution Wharf, Boston, and sailed for Liverpool on 18th February, 1854, whilst the Red Jacket sailed from New York on the following day, and great interest was shown in shipping circles as to which should make the best passage across the Atlantic.

In the end these two magnificent clippers arrived in Liverpool on the same day, 4th March, their exact times being:—

Their 24-hour runs opened the eyes of the packet ship commanders and in fact the whole world.

The Red Jacket put up runs of 413, 374, 371, 343, and 300 against the Lightning’s 436, 328, 312 and 306, thus there was little to choose between the two vessels on this point.

The Boston Daily Atlas of 18th February, 1854, thus describes the Lightning’s departure from Boston:—

And the following extract from her log book was published in the Liverpool Albion on her arrival.

On 28th February at noon she was in Lat. 52° 38′ N., Long. 22° 45′ W., and her run of 436 nautical miles from that position to her noon position on 1st March gives her the greatest day’s work ever accomplished, to the best of my belief, by a sailing ship. The 1st March entry “Wind south—bore away for the North Channel,” has misled some nautical critics, who have plotted her as being up with Rathlin Island when she bore away, without noticing the direction of the wind. The log is rather ambiguously worded, but her run of 436 miles puts her some 30 miles west of Achill Head—and she then bore away north, bringing the wind on the starboard quarter. If she had been off Rathlin Island she would have had to bring the wind on the starboard bow for the course through the North Channel.

Captain Charles McDonald always hoped to get a day’s run of 500 miles out of the James Baines, and firmly believed she could do it; but he never succeeded in beating the Lightning’s records.

The Red Jacket, which was under the command of Captain Asa Eldridge, of American packet ship fame, had strong winds from S.E. to W.S.W. with rain, snow and hail. As with Lightning, the first half of her passage was the slowest half and for the first seven days she could only average 182 miles a day. But with practically the same weather, it is interesting to compare the performances of the two vessels as they approached the Irish Coast. Red Jacket’s last six runs were 219, 413, 374, 343, 300, and 371, giving a total of 2020 and an average of 336.

The only vessel that has ever beaten this six-day run is the famous Cutty Sark, which in 1876, before her wings were clipped, ran 2163 miles in six days in the roaring forties, when outward bound to Sydney.

At Liverpool Captain Eldridge handed over his command to Captain Samuel Reid, who managed to get the Red Jacket away for Australia, as one of the White Star regular packets, 10 days ahead of Captain Forbes. The Red Jacket sailed on 4th May, 1854, one day behind a new Nova Scotian built Black Ball packet named the Mermaid.

On the 10th May the two ships were off Oporto, and kept close to each other as far as Teneriffe; the N.E. trades were poor and it was a light weather passage to the line, which was crossed on 29th May by the Red Jacket, the Mermaid being then in 1° north.

From this point the Red Jacket, steering a more westerly course, had light and variable winds, whilst the Mermaid was better treated and reached the latitude of the Cape five days ahead, and still held better winds, being actually 1397 miles ahead of the Red Jacket on 15th June. Red Jacket, indeed, did not really get going until 26th June, but from that date her log is so remarkable that I give it below.

The Red Jacket was in 40° S., 14° E., before there was any need to touch her topgallant sheets, and Captain Reid was evidently determined to find wind somehow, with the result that, in spite of it being the depth of winter, he was not deterred from standing far to the southward on a Great Circle course. He was rewarded by all the wind he could desire, but so great was the cold that the ship was put down by the head by the frozen spindrift which covered her to the mainmast in an icy mantle.

Her log from 26th June, when she first began to feel the benefit of the westerlies, was as follows:—

Red Jacket made the passage from Rock Light to Port Phillip Heads in 69 days 11 hours 15 minutes; passage under sail 67 days 13 hours, total distance run 13,880 miles.

The Mermaid, which gained such an advantage over the Red Jacket in the earlier part of the passage, ran her easting down a good deal further to the northward, and did not arrive till the 17th July, having made a passage of 74½ days.

Red Jacket set sail on her homeward passage on 3rd August. She was not in very good trim this time, being too light and very much down by the stern, however, she still continued to show her quality, constantly logging 17 or 18 knots in fresh breezes and 14 and 15 knots when close-hauled. Only once on the homeward passage were her topsails close-reefed and only once did she ship any water. This was on the 31st August in a heavy squall with foresail and fore and main topgallant sails set.

She rounded the Horn on the 23rd August, only 20 days out, her week’s work averaging out as follows:

But on the day after she had rounded the Horn, she had a narrow escape of being embayed by ice, and one of her passengers gave the following account of her danger to the newspapers:—“On the morning of 24th August, I was roused out of sleep by the noise of shortening sail and the look-out singing out land. Ice had been seen some time before, but the solid masses had been supposed in the dark to be land. On getting out I found we were in smooth water and large masses of ice floating about us. As the day broke, we found ourselves sailing along a lake of water not unlike a canal. The ice seemed to extend on every side in solid fields as far as the eye could reach without any prospect of getting out, so that we had to follow the channel. All sail was clewed up except the topsails, and as there was a good breeze we proceeded along at about 4 or 5 knots. Our situation at this time seemed most appalling, as we appeared to be getting further into the ice, so that by 10 or 11 o’clock we were almost making up our minds to remain for weeks in this fearful situation.

“About noon the captain and second mate, who had been on the fore topsail yard all the morning, discovered clear sea again, to gain which we had to force a passage through dense masses of ice. It was here she sustained the principal damage to her stem and copper. We soon got clear and the rest of the day we saw no traces of ice and were very thankful we had got off so easily. But to our dismay at 8 p.m. we again fell in with it. The ship was put about and sail shortened for the night and we ran back to the clear water in which we had been sailing. At daybreak sail was made and at 7 a.m. we came up to the ice. At first it was only large pans much melted, the water having all the appearance of brine and being quite thick round them. Afterwards large masses of icebergs presented themselves. In grinding the ship through these, great difficulty was experienced—very large bergs were also interspersed and visible all round.

“This day we cleared it again about noon. Icebergs were still, however, seen both near and in the distance; their appearance was most grand, the largest being thought to be about 2 miles in circumference and 100 feet high. It was passed about 4 or 5 miles distant on our starboard and lee side.

“We hove to again at night. Next day, Saturday, was for the most part a dead calm and we were carried back with the current. There was not a breath of wind; a clear sky and beautiful weather, only the air sharp. Icebergs were, however, still seen. The next day, Sunday, we passed a number more, which were the last ice seen. One of these was most grand, being about 200 feet high. We cleared it on our port or windward side about a mile or less distant. The weather during this period was clear and fine. Indeed, the day before encountering the ice was beautiful, a fine light breeze which heightened towards evening and sea smooth. We were running close-hauled 14 knots an hour steadily during the night. The sun had set a deep crimson behind a bank of clouds over against Cape Horn.”

Red Jacket’s next three weeks’ runs averaged:—

The line was crossed on 13th September, the Red Jacket having run 10,243 miles in 42 days, an average of 244 per day. She now had every hope of beating the record, but, alas, from here on she had nothing but calms and light head winds which drove her across into 43° W. and she was 31½ days from the line to port, reaching Liverpool on 15th October, after a passage of 73 days. This was considered an extraordinary performance, when allowance was made for the light weather experienced after crossing the line. During one whole week in the doldrums she averaged under 100 miles per day, and the two following weeks she only averaged 142 and 106 miles respectively.

The whole voyage, however, had been a wonderfully fast one. She had made the trip, out and home, in 5 months 10 days and 22½ hours, and had actually circumnavigated the globe in 62 days 22 hours, between 11th June and 2nd September, running 15,991 miles in that time.

On her homeward passage she ran 14,863 miles, her greatest day’s work being 376 miles and her average 202¼ miles per day.

She brought home gold dust and sovereigns to the value of £208,044. She sailed this voyage under the American flag, being only chartered by the White Star Line, but on her return to Liverpool Messrs. Pilkington & Wilson bought her for the sum of £30,000.

The Lightning, with the famous Bully Forbes in command and the almost equally famous Bully Bragg as mate, left Liverpool on the 14th May for Melbourne. But unlike the Red Jacket, she had a light weather passage out, her topgallant sails being carried the whole way. She crossed the line 25 days out and took 30 days running from the meridian of the Cape to Port Phillip Heads, arriving off Sandridge Pier on the afternoon of 31st July, 77 days from Liverpool, her best runs being 348, 332, 329, 311, and 300.

On the morning of the 20th August she left her anchorage at Melbourne in company with the Mermaid, having gold dust on board to the value of £1,000,000. The tug dropped her off the Heads at 4 p.m., and by the following noon she had done 268 knots. At 4 a.m. on the 24th she passed a large ship supposed to be the Mermaid, and at 10 p.m. on the same day passed the Auckland Islands. From here she had fresh westerly and south-westerly winds, seldom logging less than 14 and frequently 18½ and 19 knots per hour. Forbes carried on in the most daring manner, and on the Lightning’s arrival at Liverpool her passengers told weird stories of Bully Forbes keeping his station at the break of the poop with a pistol in each hand in order to prevent his scared crew from letting go the royal halliards.

By 28th August the ship was in 57° 20′ S., but at 11 p.m. on this day a violent squall from the S.W. carried away the fore topmast stunsail boom, and a moment later the fore topmast went over the side, the fore royal, fore topgallant sail and fore topsail being blown out of the bolt ropes at the same instant.

For the next four days the ship was kept under easy canvas whilst a new fore topmast was got aloft and the other damage made good. However, in spite of this delay the ship averaged 300 miles from 1st September to the 8th, when Cape Horn bore N.W., distant 50 miles at 3 a.m.; Lightning’s actual time from the Heads to the Horn was 19 days 1 hour, a record. For the next three days she had the wind ahead at N.E., but on the 13th it came out of the south again strong, and her runs on the 13th and 14th were 351 and 354 miles respectively. Then from the 15th to the 20th with light head winds again, she could only average 6 to 7 knots an hour. On the 20th September she was in Lat. 29° 13′ S., Long. 31° 40′ W. Light N.E. and N.N.E. winds still held right up to the line. On the 28th she passed Pernambuco, 6 miles off, and at 9 a.m. on 30th September she crossed the equator in Long. 34° 30′ W., being only a little over 40 days mean time from Port Phillip, which, considering the poor winds met with after rounding the Horn, was a wonderful performance.

“CHAMPION OF THE SEAS.”

For the first five days after crossing the line she had the usual doldrums with torrents of rain and made little or no progress. On 5th October a gentle N.E. trade was picked up in 10° N., 34° W., which held until the 10th when she was in 30° N., 37° W. On the 11th and 12th she had moderate S.E. winds, being in the latitude of St. Michael’s at noon on the 12th. For the next week she had nothing but very light N.E. and E.N.E. winds, but at 10 p.m. on the 19th when in 46° 15′ N., 28° W., a strong northerly breeze sprang up which held until she reached port.

“LIGHTNING.”

She was off the Old Head of Kinsale at 4 a.m. on 22nd October, passed Minehead at 10 a.m., the Tuskar at 3.30 p.m., and Holyhead Light at 8.30 p.m. A pilot was picked up off Point Lynas at 10.30 p.m., who kept her under easy sail through the night, waiting for enough water to take her over the bar. The Lightning anchored in the Mersey at 9.30 a.m. on 23rd October; her actual time being 64 days 3 hours 10 minutes, a record, which, I believe, has never been broken.

The Lightning brought answers to letters sent out in the Great Britain which left Liverpool on 13th June, thus making a course of post of only 132 days. The Lightning’s round voyage, including 20 days in port, was only 5 months 8 days and 21 hours.

Whilst the Red Jacket and Lightning were astonishing the world, Donald Mackay was building the Champion of the Seas and James Baines for the Black Ball Line. He was given a free hand, and the new vessels were intended to be more perfect than anything he had hitherto attempted.

The Champion of the Seas was launched in April, 1854, and, owing to the monster four-master Great Republic being cut down a deck, claimed the honour of being the largest ship in the world until the James Baines eclipsed her.

Her hull measurements were as follows:—

In strength of construction she was a considerable improvement on the Lightning. Her ends were as long but not quite so sharp or concave and were considered to be more harmoniously designed. She had an upright sternpost and her stern was semi-elliptical and ornamented with the Australian coat-of-arms. Her figure-head was a life-like representation of the old-time shellback and was an object of interest wherever she went.

It is thus described by Captain Clark:—“One of the most striking figure-heads was the tall square-built sailor, with dark curly hair and bronzed clean-shaven face, who stood at the bow of the Champion of the Seas. A black belt with a massive brass buckle supported his white trousers, which were as tight about the hips as the skin of an eel and had wide, bell-shaped bottoms that almost hid his black polished pumps. He wore a loose-fitting blue and white checked shirt with wide rolling collar and black handkerchief of ample size, tied in the most rakish of square knots with long flowing ends. But perhaps the most impressive of this mariner’s togs were his dark-blue jacket and the shiny tarpaulin hat which he waved aloft in the grip of his brawny tattooed right hand.”

The Champion of the Seas had her greatest beam at the centre of the load displacement line, and, like the Lightning, she was fuller aft than forward. Her deck houses and cabin arrangements were also on the same plan as those of the Lightning, viz., a topgallant foc’s’le for the crew; a house, 50 feet long, abaft the foremast, for petty officers, galleys and second class passengers; a small house, 16 feet square, contained the chief mate’s quarters and sheltered the first class companion, whilst a large wheel-house astern had a smoking-room on one side and the captain’s cabin on the other.

The following details of her construction, taken from an American paper, may be of interest to present day wood shipwrights:—“Her entire frame was of seasoned white oak and all her hooks, pointers and knees were of the same wood, her planking and ceiling being of hard pine, and she was square fastened throughout and butt and bilge bolted with copper. The keel was of rock maple in two depths, each 16 inches square. The floor timbers were moulded 21 inches on the keel and sided from 12 to 13 inches, and over them were four tiers of midship keelsons, each 16 inches square, and on each side of these were two depths of sister keelsons of the same size, the whole scarphed and keyed and fastened with 1¾ inch bolting. The whole frame, fore and aft, was diagonally cross-braced with iron, 5 inches wide, ⅞ of an inch thick and 38 feet long. These braces were bolted through every frame and through every intersection; were let into the timbers and ceiling and extended from the first futtocks to the top timbers. All the waterways as well as the keelsons and ceiling were scarphed and bolted in the most substantial style. The upper deck was of white pine 3½ inches thick and the other decks of hard pine of the same substance. Her ends were almost filled with massive hooks and pointers. The hooks in the between decks were beamed and kneed and fastened through all. Her garboards were 9 by 15 inches, the next strake 8 by 14, the third 7 by 14; the bottom planking 5 inches thick, the wales 6 by 7 and the waist 4¼ inches thick, the whole finished smooth as joiner work and strongly fastened.”

The Champion of the Seas had about the same sail area and spar measurements as the Lightning. Her masts and bowsprit were built of hard pine and the masts were 74 and 63 feet apart. The foremast raked ½ inch to the foot, the main ⅝ and the mizen 1 inch. When she left the builders her working suit of sails consisted of 12,500 yards of American cotton, 18 inches in width.

She was of course painted the regulation Black Ball colours, black outside and white inside, with blue waterways. Her masts white, mastheads and yards black, and stunsail booms bright with black ends. Captain Alexander Newlands was sent out from Liverpool to superintend her outfit and take command, the lighting and ventilation below being carried out according to his designs. On her completion the Champion of the Seas was towed to New York by the famous Boston tug R. B. Forbes and from thence came across to Liverpool in the month of June in 16 days.

She left Liverpool on her first voyage to Australia on 11th October, 1854, and arrived out in 72 days, coming home again in 84, thus proving herself quite up to the standard of the famous Black Ball Line, and from that date she was always a favourite ship.

“JAMES BAINES.”

From a painting by Captain D. O. Robertson, late commander of ship “Lightning.”

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The Champion of the Seas was closely followed by the James Baines, considered by most sailormen to have been the finest and fastest of the great Mackay quartette. When she loaded troops for India in 1857 and was inspected by Queen Victoria at Portsmouth, the Queen remarked that she did not know she possessed such a splendid ship in her Mercantile Marine.

When she first arrived in Liverpool a well-known Liverpool shipowner wrote to a Boston paper:—“You want to know what professional men say about the ship James Baines? Her unrivalled passage, of course, brought her prominently before the public and she has already been visited by many of the most eminent mechanics in the country. She is so strongly built, so finely finished and is of so beautiful a model that even envy cannot prompt a fault against her. On all hands she has been praised as the most perfect sailing ship that ever entered the river Mersey.”

Donald Mackay never built two ships exactly alike, and the James Baines was of slightly fuller design than the Lightning and yet sharper and longer in the bow than the Champion of the Seas.

Her chief measurements were:—

The following extracts are taken from an account of the James Baines given in the Boston Atlas at the time of her launch:—“She has a long, rakish, sharp bow with slightly concave lines below, but convex above, and it is ornamented with a bust of her namesake, which was carved in Liverpool and which is said by those who know the original to be an excellent likeness. It is blended with the cut-water, is relieved with gilded carved work and forms a neat and appropriate ornament to the bow. She is planked flush to the covering board, has a bold and buoyant sheer, graduated her whole length, rising gracefully at the ends, particularly forward; and every moulding is fair and harmonises finely with the planking and her general outline. Her stern is rounded, and although she has a full poop deck, her afterbody surpasses in neatness that of any vessel her talented builder has yet produced.

“Our most eminent mechanics consider her stern perfect. It is rounded below the line of the plank sheer, is fashioned above in an easy curve, and only shows a few inches of rise above the outline of the monkey rail: and as this rise is painted white and the rest of the hull black, when viewed broadside on, her sheer appears a continuous line along her entire length. Her stern is ornamented with carved representations of the great globe itself, between the arms of Great Britain and the United States, surrounded with fancy work, has carved and gilded drops between the cabin windows and her name above all, the whole tastefully gilded and painted. Her bulwarks are built solid and are surmounted by a monkey rail, which is panelled inside, and their whole height above the deck is about 6 feet, varying of course towards the ends.

“She has a full topgallant foc’s’le, which extends to the foremast and is fitted for the accommodation of her crew; and abaft the foremast a large house, which contains spacious galleys, several staterooms, store-rooms, an iceroom and shelters a staircase which leads to the decks below. She has a full poop deck, between 7 and 8 feet high, under which is the cabin for female passengers and before it a large house which contains the dining saloon and other apartments. The outline of the poop and the house is protected by rails, on turned stanchions, and the enclosure forms a spacious and beautiful promenade deck. She has also a small house aft, which shelters the helmsman in a recess, protects the entrance to the captain’s cabin, is also a smoking room for passengers and answers a variety of other purposes.

“The captain’s cabin and sleeping room are on the starboard side and communicate with the wheelhouse on deck, so that it will not be necessary for him to enter the cabin set apart for female passengers. Besides these the cabin contains 11 spacious staterooms, a bathroom and other useful apartments.

“The dining saloon is 35 feet long by 15 feet wide; the entrance to the deck from the saloon is 2½ feet wide and extends across the house, with a door on each side, and opposite the midship door of the saloon is the pantry, which is spacious and fitted up in superior style. In the front of the saloon house are the staterooms of the first and second officers, and the windows of these rooms are of stained glass and have the ship’s name in them. The staircase in the after part of the saloon leads to the main deck, where are the gentlemen’s sleeping apartments, 24 in all, each stateroom having two berths. The deck before the gentlemen’s sleeping cabin has three large ports for cargo opposite the hatchways, one on each side, and square ports suitable for staterooms along the sides. The lower decks are ventilated amidships with trunk skylights which pass through the house forward as well as the cabin and saloon aft. The height between each of the decks is 7½ feet. The ascent from the quarter-deck to the poop consists of two staircases, built into the front of the poop. She is very heavily sparred and will spread about 13,000 yards of canvas in a single suit of sails. Her mastheads and yards are black; the lower masts, from the truss bands to the fiferails, are bright and varnished, their hoops white and the tops and down to the truss band are also white. She has iron caps and is rigged in nearly the same style as the Champion of the Seas. Her bulwarks and houses are painted white and her waterways blue, and in this style she is also painted below.”

Captain McDonald left the Marco Polo in order to take charge of the James Baines. She sailed from Boston on 12th September, 1854, and the following is the log of her record run across the Atlantic:—

It will be seen that the James Baines had her share of light breezes, and Captain McDonald believed that he could have made the passage in eight days with strong winds. Running up Channel the wind was strong and fair and very squally, the vessel sometimes making 20 knots an hour between points.

At Liverpool the James Baines was fitted and furnished for passengers by Messrs. James H. Beal and brother. And her cabin fittings are described as being of “almost lavish splendour,” with innumerable pilasters and mirrors.

I also note the following in a Liverpool account:—“Before the mainmast there are three gallows frames, upon which her spare boats are stowed, bottom up, and over the sides she carries quarter boats, suspended in iron davits. She has copper-chambered pumps, six capstans, a crab-winch on the foc’s’le, a patent windlass, Crane’s self-acting chain stoppers, a patent steering apparatus and a large variety of other improvements of the most modern kind.”

The James Baines sailed for Melbourne on 9th December, 1854, and broke the record by arriving out in 63 days. Captain McDonald wrote the following account of the passage to his owners:—

“I have great pleasure in announcing the arrival of the James Baines in Hobson’s Bay at 8 p.m. on 12th February, making a run of 63 days 18 hours 15 minutes mean time from passing the Rock till the anchor was down in Hobson’s Bay. On leaving Liverpool I had strong head winds to contend with. The 7th day from Liverpool I touched off St. Ives Head; the 10th day I had to tack off Cape St. Vincent and stood to the N.W. In 19° N. in the middle of the trade winds, I got the wind at S.S.E., got to leeward of Cape San Roque, and was 18 hours in beating round. I experienced nothing but light northerly winds all the way across. Sighted Cape Otway on the 54th day from Liverpool; main skysail off the ship only three days from Liverpool to this port. The greatest distance run in 24 hours was 423 miles, that with main skysail and stunsails set. Had I only had the ordinary run of winds I would have made the voyage in 55 days.”

The James Baines took out 700 passengers (80 in the first class) 1400 tons of cargo and 350 sacks containing over 180,000 letters and newspapers. By her mail contract she was bound to deliver these in 65 days under penalty. Amongst her live stock were a bullock, 75 sheep, 86 pigs, and 100 dozen of fowls and ducks.

This passage of the James Baines showed her splendid capabilities both in light head winds and strong fair winds, for after a succession of light head winds she was reported in 3° N., 29° W., on the 29th December, only 19 days out, whilst in the boisterous gales of the roaring forties she made the following splendid 24-hour runs in about a 23½-hour day.

This magnificent run showed 10′ difference of latitude and 10° 40′ difference of longitude, her position at noon on 5th February being 50° 19′ S., 113° E.

“DONALD MACKAY.”
Entering Port Phillip Heads, 20th December, 1866.

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Leaving Melbourne on the 12th March, 1855, the James Baines made the run home in 69½ days, having completed the voyage to Melbourne and back in 133 days under sail.

Black Ball captains were celebrated for their daring navigation and McDonald was no exception in this respect. His passengers declared that the James Baines was nearly ashore three times whilst tacking off the coast of Ireland under a heavy press of sail, and that when McDonald put her round off the Mizenhead the rocks were so close that a stone could have been thrown ashore from her decks. It was a lee shore, and if she had missed stays she must have been lost. But as McDonald said, when remonstrated with for taking such risks, it was a case of “we have to make a good passage.”

The Donald Mackay, last of the famous Mackay quartette, was for many years the largest sailing ship in the world, her measurements being:—

A novelty in her sail plan was Forbes’ patent double topsail yards. These came out before Howe’s, and differed from them in having the topmasts fidded abaft the lower masts.

Donald Mackay was said to have the heaviest mainmast out of Liverpool. It was a built mast of pitch-pine, heavily banded with iron, weighing close on 20 tons. She was, of course, a three-decker; and as a figure-head she had a Highlander dressed in the tartan of the Mackays. In design she took after the Champion of the Seas, being not so sharp-ended as the Lightning or James Baines. Captain Warner left the Sovereign of the Seas to take her, and superintended her fitting out.

Leaving Boston on 21st February, 1855, she made Cape Clear only 12 days out. On 27th February her log records:—“First part a strong gale from N.W.; middle part blowing a hurricane from W.N.W., ship scudding under topsails and foresail at the rate of 18 knots; latter part still blowing from W.N.W. with heavy hail squalls and very high sea running.”

Under these conditions she made a run of 421 miles in the 24 hours. She made the Fastnet Rock on 6th March, distant one mile, it blowing a gale from S.E. to E.N.E., her run for the day being 299 miles. But in the Channel her passage was spoilt by strong easterly winds, and she did not receive her pilot off Point Lynas until Saturday, the 10th.

Donald Mackay himself came over in the ship, and on his arrival expressed himself highly satisfied with her. She was at once put on the berth, for Melbourne, but did not leave Liverpool until 6th June, and thus had a light weather passage south, being spoken on 14th July in 12° S., 38 days out. She arrived in Port Phillip on 26th August, 81 days out. She left Melbourne again on 3rd October, arriving in Liverpool on 28th December, 1855, 86 days out, and bringing 104,000 ounces of gold consigned to the Bank of France.

“WHITE STAR.”

From an old lithograph.

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Donald Mackay’s times on the Australian run, though never very remarkable, were very consistent, her average for six consecutive outward passages being 83 days. And I find her making a passage out to Hobson’s Bay in 1867 in 84 days. She once took 1000 troops from Portsmouth to Mauritius in 70 days.

Three other magnificent ships were built on the other side of the Atlantic for the Liverpool-Melbourne emigrant trade in 1854. These were the Blue Jacket, White Star and Shalimar.

The Blue Jacket came from the well-known yard of R. E. Jackson in East Boston, the other two ships being Nova Scotian built. The Blue Jacket arrived in the Mersey on 20th October, 1854, having made the run from Boston, land to land, in 12 days 10 hours; the Shalimar arrived about the same time, and the White Star reached Liverpool on 1st December, 15 days out from St. John’s in spite of strong head winds. She was timber laden and drawing 22½ feet of water. The Blue Jacket on her arrival was bought by James John Frost, of London, and put on the berth for Melbourne as one of the Fox Line of packets, the other two being owned by the White Star Line.

In looking at old pictures and prints of these American built ships, several points in their construction seem to have been common to all, such as the semi-elliptical stern, the bowsprit built into the sheer, the large wheel-house aft, etc.; their figure-heads, also, were generally most elaborate full-length figures and did not grow out of the bow in the graceful way of the British-built, but seemed to be plastered upon it. And from Marco Polo to Donald Mackay, these soft-wood clippers had more the appearance of strength and power than of grace and beauty, though the famous Red Jacket was an exception, being an extremely taking ship to the eye.

Blue Jacket, however, was of the powerful type, and extremely like the Mackay ships in appearance. She was designed to stow a large cargo, having a full midship section, but her bow was long and sharp enough.

Her chief measurements were:—

Her poop was 80 feet long and 7 feet high, and she had 8 feet of height between decks. She had the usual accommodation arrangements, two points only being perhaps worth noting; the first was a line of plate glass portholes running the length of her ’tween decks, and the second was an iron water tank to hold 7000 gallons.

Blue Jacket sailed for Melbourne on 6th March, 1855, in charge of Captain Underwood, and made a magnificent run out of 69 days. She further distinguished herself at a later date by making the homeward run in 69 days.

Shalimar, the smallest ship of the three, measured 1557 tons register; 195.8 feet length; 35.2 feet beam; and 23 feet depth. She sailed for Hobson’s Bay on 23rd November, 1854, was off Cape Northumberland in 67 days, but owing to head winds took another 10 days to reach her port. She came home in 75 days, her whole voyage, including 45 days in port, only occupying 6 months and 14 days. The newspaper report of her passage out states that she ran 420 miles in the 24 hours on one occasion, though unfortunately it gives no particulars.

The most celebrated of these three ships was the White Star, which had the distinction of being the largest clipper built by Wright, of New Brunswick, her measurements being:—

The White Star soon proved herself to be one of the fastest ships afloat. On her first voyage she did nothing out of the way, being 79 days out and 88 days home. But in 1856 she went out in 75 days (67 days land to land), and came home in 76 days, beating the auxiliary Royal Charter by 10 days from port to port. In 1858, she went out in 72 days, this being the best White Star passage of the year; whilst on 25th February, 1860, she left Melbourne and made her number off Cape Clear in 65 days. In 1860 she went out in 69 days, running 3306 miles in 10 days between the Cape and Melbourne.

We now come to the unfortunate Schomberg, the only wooden ship ever built in a British yard that could in any way compare with the big Boston and Nova Scotian built ships in size.

In 1854, James Baines was so impressed by the success of the little Aberdeen tea clippers, that he gave Hall an order for a monster emigrant clipper of 2600 tons. Unfortunately, Hall had had no experience in the building of emigrant ships and the Schomberg was more of a copy of Mackay’s clippers than Hall’s own beautiful little ships. The Schomberg cost when ready for sea £43,103 or £18 17s. 6d. per ton. She measured:—

She had three skins, two of diagonal planking, and one fore and aft, the whole fastened together with screw-threaded hard-wood trunnels—a novelty in shipbuilding. She was specially heavily rigged, her mainmast weighing 15 tons, being a pitch-pine spar 110 feet in length and 42 inches in diameter. Her mainyard was 110 feet long. She crossed three skysail yards, but no moonsail.

Captain Forbes, as commodore of the Black Ball, was shifted into her from the Lightning, and great hopes were entertained that she would lower the record to Australia.

On 6th October, 1855, she was hauled through the pier heads amidst the cheers of a patriotic crowd of sightseers, with the boast of “Sixty days to Melbourne” flying from her signal halliards. The passage was one of light and moderate winds. Schomberg was 28 days to the line and 55 days to the Greenwich meridian. Running her easting down she averaged 6 degrees daily to 130° E., her greatest speed being 15½ knots and her best run 368 miles. She made the land off Cape Bridgewater at 1 p.m. on Xmas day, the wind being fresh at E.S.E. On 27th December after two days’ tacking, with the wind still blowing fresh from ahead, Forbes went about at noon when 4 miles off shore and tacked out; at 6 p.m. he tacked in again. At about 10.30 p.m., the land being faintly visible, the wind gradually died away. It was a moonlight night. Forbes was playing cards in the saloon when the mate came down and reported that the ship was getting rather close in under the land and suggested going about. As luck would have it, Forbes was losing and, being a bit out of temper, insisted on playing another rubber of whist before tacking ship, and the danger point had been overstripped when at 11 o’clock he came on deck and gave the order to ’bout ship.

As there was next to no wind and a current running 3 to 4 knots to the westward, the Schomberg refused to come round. Forbes next tried to wear her, with the result that the ship slid up on to a sandbank 35 miles west of Cape Otway. On sounding round the ship it was found that she was stuck fast in 4 fathoms of water. Sail was kept on her in the hopes of it pulling her off into deep water again.

Forbes, on being told that the ship was hard aground, said angrily:—“Let her go to Hell, and tell me when she is on the beach,” and at once went below.

Henry Cooper Keen, the mate, then took charge, and finding that the Schomberg was only being hove further in by the swell and current, clewed up all sail, let go the starboard anchor and lowered the boats. And it was subsequently proved at the inquiry afterwards that it was chiefly due to the chief officer and a first class passenger, a civil engineer of Belfast named Millar, that all the passengers were safely disembarked and put aboard the steamer Queen, which hove in sight on the following morning.

All efforts to save the ship failed and she presently went to pieces. Forbes at the inquiry was acquitted of all blame for the stranding, the sandbank being uncharted, but at a mass meeting of his passengers in the Mechanics’ Institute, Melbourne, he was very severely censured. Many of them declared that he was so disgusted with the slowness of the passage that he let the ship go ashore on purpose. Others complained of his tyranny during the voyage and even made worse allegations against his morality and that of the ship’s doctor; altogether the affair was a pretty scandal and Forbes never obtained another command in the Black Ball Line.

When Forbes was given the Schomberg, James Baines offered the command of the Lightning to Captain Anthony Enright, who had earned a great reputation as a passage maker in the tea clipper Chrysolite. At the same time the White Star Line asked Enright to take over the Red Jacket, and it was only after considerable deliberation that he decided to take the Lightning, first demanding a salary of £1000 a year. The Black Ball Line replied that it was a great deal more than they had ever previously given to their captains, but eventually they agreed to his terms rather than lose such a good man.

Captain Enright had the Lightning for four voyages, from January, 1855, to August, 1857, and proved himself perhaps the most popular and successful captain under the famous house-flag; indeed, under him the Lightning became a very favourite ship with passengers.

Enright was a very religious man, a Puritan of the old type yet no bigot: a stern disciplinarian, the men before the mast knew that he was sure to give them a square deal, impartial and just, and fair treatment for good service, and for that reason never gave him trouble, whilst in controlling his passengers and keeping a happy ship in spite of the trials of such long passages and crowded quarters, he showed the most wonderful tact and gift for ruling men. This gift of tact was perhaps more desirable in the captain of an emigrant ship than in any other walk of life, especially in the days of the gold rush when the emigrants represented every nationality, every creed, every class and every trade; and the Lightning, under Enright, was as good an example of the best-run first-class emigrant ships as can be found. I therefore intend to give as good a picture of life aboard the Lightning during 1855-7 as I possibly can with the material at my command.

First of all I will give a list of Enright’s regulations for preserving order amongst his passengers, which were always posted up in prominent places about the ship.

RULES OF THE Lightning.

Perhaps a few details regarding the number and kind of passengers, for which these rules were framed, may now be of interest.

In 1855 the Lightning took out 47 saloon, 53 second cabin, 20 intermediate and 253 steerage passengers, her crew numbering 87; total of souls on board—495.

In 1856 her purser gave the following details of the outward bound passengers:—

On the homeward passage the numbers were naturally very much less, and women were not so numerous.

In 1855 the Lightning brought home 51 saloon, 123 second cabin and 80 intermediate; total—254. On her second voyage that year, owing to the accident to her false bow when outward bound, she could only muster 80 passengers.

In 1856 her homeward bound passengers consisted of:—

All Europe sailed from Liverpool to the Australian goldfields, so that all nationalities were to be found in a Black Baller’s foc’s’le.

I find the following account in the Lightning Gazette, the newspaper published on board, of 1855:—“Here in the steerage we find there are many nations, including Jews, Germans and French; the largest number, however, being English with a few Irish and Scots. Here are all ages and not all, but many, trades and occupations. Here are some more or less successful diggers, who had returned to their native land to gratify a feeling of love and affection; or it may be vanity; and who are now returning to settle in the land of promise.”

The homeward bound passengers were just as mixed if only half as numerous—thus the Gazette when homeward bound in 1856:—

And under the heading of “The Gent Afloat,” I find a very amusing description of the adventurer of the times aboard ship, and though it is rather long, it is such a vivid little study of a type of character, only too common in the snobbish mid-Victorian era, that I cannot resist giving it in full.

“This class of individual is to be found in great abundance in every clipper ship community. He is easily known, more easily detected. He is a man of vast importance when first he steps aboard; makes no advances; keeps aloof; is evidently selecting, with great caution, those with whom he dare associate without compromising his connections. After a little time, however, he—with a condescending grace, which cannot be too highly extolled—relaxes slightly his vigorous demeanour, and smiles upon the very young men of known good family (of course), occasionally honours them with his arm and promenades the deck for half an hour—is very careful during the peregrination to recount his latest adventures at home—the parting dinners Captain Allalie and Colonel Gammon would insist on giving him; the ballet dancer, who forsook an Earl for his advances and embraces; the prima donna who would insist on rehearsing her role before him as she entertained so high an opinion of his musical criticism and abilities. The borough he might have gone in for at the last election, with the Duke of Sarum’s interest, but that his own family objected on the score of difference in political opinions, and the positive certainty that in a few years his great talents and eloquence must command the most independent seat in the House.

“He is of an average height and features, with the exception of a protruding chin, which gives to the mouth a horrible grin; an eyeglass of course; luxuriant hair and whiskers, redolent of macassar. He apes the gait of a military man; wears a frock coat terribly inclined to the third and fourth letters of the alphabet; a waistcoat of the most approved and fashionable cut; trowsers of the loudest plaid style about two to the pair, with very ragged bottoms and straps, the latter article proving a very useful adjunct when the supply of socks falls short; a shirt with miniature cartoons after Raphael or a correct likeness of the last murderer and the last ballet dancer printed upon it; a necktie of the striking stripe pattern, to make him smart. His whole appearance is indicative of a worn-out Stultz. His hands are covered with a variety of rings, from the enamelled and delicately wrought diamond to the massive and substantial signet bearing his crest. An immense watch chain (bearing a striking resemblance to the ship’s cable) with an abundance of charms attached completes the tout ensemble of the outer man. His wardrobe is somewhat limited—but this he accounts for by—‘D—n those agents, the rascals have put my trunks marked “wanted on the voyage” in the hold, and left out those “not wanted,” isn’t it annoying? Could you lend me a few shirts until they’re got at?’ He is decidedly great at the borrowing dodge. Of course his cigars, tobacco and all the little comforts for the journey are in his trunks in the hold. But the way he solicits a loan of the required articles is irresistible. His natural grace (or impudence, we don’t know which) defies refusal. But at last even that—as all things good or bad will—palls and borrowing becomes a more difficult art. Friends shirk him, acquaintances avoid him, and long before the end of the journey ‘the Gent Afloat’ is known and scouted as a penniless, reckless adventurer void alike of honour or honesty.”

This account of an adventurer of the fifties came out of the Lightning Gazette, a paper published weekly aboard the ship.

Realising the importance of keeping such a mixed collection of passengers amused Messrs. James Baines put a printing press aboard each of their ships and thus the issue of the shipboard newspaper was something always to be eagerly looked forward to on Saturdays. In many an English and Australian home there are no doubt still to be found treasured, stained and tattered, copies of these ships’ newspapers. I have myself handled volumes of the Lightning Gazette, the Eagle Herald, the Royal Charter Times and coming down to more modern days, the Loch Torridon Journal and other Loch Line papers.

The printer of these ship newspapers was usually a paid member of the crew, but the editor and sub-editor were elected by the passengers, the captain, of course, acting not only as a frequent contributor but also as a censor—no matter of a controversial sort either religious, political or otherwise being ever allowed to appear in the news sheet of Captain Enright’s ship.

The ship’s official newspaper sometimes had to contend against rival productions, promoted by private enterprise, but its chief rival was the ship’s notice board, which was a stout one, being no less than the mainmast.

Here are a few notices, gathered haphazard from the Lightning’s mainmast.

Riddles and Epigrams, so numerous in the Gazette, were not, however, to be found on the ship’s notice board. The riddles are mostly very feeble, many of them making great play with the ship’s name, thus:—

But there is a rather more interesting one of the times:—

The epigrams are better, as follows:—

and—

Perhaps the most important method of keeping an emigrant ship’s passengers amused was by means of the ship’s band, especially in those days when dancing was so popular, that even in bad weather the poops of these ships were always crowded with dancers every evening.

Of course the bands provided were not quite on a par with those of present day leviathans crossing the Atlantic; the Lightning, for instance, rejoiced in the good old-fashioned German band, which used to be such an institution in the London streets and is now practically extinct. This band consisted of six musicians, and besides playing selections and accompaniments at the concerts, supplied the music for the daily dancing.

In those days the polka was the great dance, the valse had not yet come into fashion and was not very well known, and instead of the romping lancers the stately quadrille was the order of the day.

I find a set of instructions showing a sailor how to dance a quadrille in one of the numbers of the Lightning Gazette. It is rather too long to quote, but the following figure shows the gist of it:—“Heave ahead and pass your adversary yardarm to yardarm: regain your berth on the other tack in the same order: take your station in a line with your partner, back and fill, face on your heel and bring up with your partner: she then manœuvres ahead and heaves all aback, fills and shoots ahead again and pays off alongside: you then make sail in company until stern on with the other line: make a stern board and cast her off to shift for herself: regain your berth by the best means possible and let go your anchor.”

Looking over the old concert programmes, I find that negro melodies (now called coon songs) were even then very popular, amongst which figured “Nelly Bligh,” “Poor Old Joe,” “Stop dat Knockin’,” “Oh! Carry Me Back” and others. The rest of the programmes were generally filled up with the old familiar Scots and Irish folk-songs, some well-known English choruses, the usual sentimental ditty, and amongst the sailor songs I find “A Life on the Ocean Wave,” “Cheer, Boys, Cheer,” “I’m Afloat,” “The Pride of the Ocean” and “The Death of Nelson.” Concerts were generally pretty numerous during a passage. As a rule each class had its own; then, to end up, a “Grand Monster Concert” was organised, in which the talents of saloon, house on deck, and steerage were pitted against one another.

Other diversions of this kind were plays of the class of “Bombastes Furioso”; mock trials, with the invariable verdict of guilty on the wretched culprit and the sentence of “champagne all round,” and of course debating, choral and other societies.

Then there were the usual high jinks crossing the line; and such occasions as the Queen’s Birthday, the “Captain’s Wedding Day,” etc., were celebrated by “a cold collation of the most sumptuous order” in the saloon and many speeches.

In the first cabin the living on these big clippers seems to have been uncommonly good for such a length of time at sea. Here is the dinner menu of 14th January, 1855, on the Lightning, when a week out from Liverpool.

Captain Enright was very fertile in raising a new amusement directly his passengers began to show signs of boredom. His favourite dodge was to appoint a St. Valentine’s Day, when a letter box was placed in front of the poop and twice during the day the darkey steward, Richard, who was evidently a great character, came round and delivered the Valentines as postman. He was always dressed up for the occasion in some extraordinarily fantastic costume of his own invention—and his antics and fun, quite as much as the contents of his postbag, kept the ship in roars of laughter and most successfully dissipated all signs of boredom and discontent. Here is one account of his doings:—

And it goes on to say:—

And here is one of the Valentines which Captain Enright received:—

During the time of the Crimea, if there happened to be a soldier or two aboard, a corps of volunteers was raised and drilled daily. A parade in bad weather was a great source of amusement to the onlookers, if not so pleasant for the performers.

In the fine weather deck games such as quoits, shovel board and deck billiards were as popular as they are nowadays, but I find no mention of sports, cock-fighting or ship cricket.

Below draughts, whist, chess, backgammon and dominoes all had many devotees; and on the homeward passage nap, poker, blackjack, euchre and other gambling games robbed many a returning digger of his pile and sometimes led to such trouble that the captain had to interfere.

Under captains of Enright’s stamp, there was very little disorder and the sailing ships seem to have carried a much happier crowd than the auxiliary steamers.

The ill-fated Royal Charter’s passage home in the summer of 1856 presents an example of a badly run and disciplined ship. The food was bad, everyone had a growl about something, drunken riots occurred constantly, fighting in which even the crew and stewards took a part was of almost daily occurrence, and excessive gambling ruined scores of returning diggers on the lower deck. I am glad to say that I can find no such instance of disorder and lack of discipline amongst the ships which relied upon sail power alone.

The honours for the year 1855 were, however, taken by the Duthie built Aberdeen clipper Ballarat, 713 tons, owned by Duncan Dunbar, which went out to Sydney in under 70 days, and came home Melbourne to Liverpool in 69 days with 110,000 ounces on board. The Ocean Chief, Captain Tobin, was a Black Baller on her second voyage. On her previous passage home in the autumn of 1854 she made the run in 86 days, during which she was embayed by ice for three days in the Southern Ocean, had the unusual experience of being becalmed for three days off the Horn and finally had N.E. winds from 18° N. to soundings.

The Oliver Lang, 1236 tons, was called after her designer, being a British built ship from the famous Deptford yard.

I have failed to point out before that the Black Ballers always sailed on the 5th of the month from Liverpool, and the White Star on the 20th; it thus becomes an easy matter to pick out the ships of the rival lines.

At such a time it is only natural to find Golden a favourite part of a ship’s name. Golden Era, Golden City, Golden Eagle, Golden Light, Golden State, Golden West, Golden Age, and Golden Gate were all down-east clippers, built for the Californian gold rush.

The Morning Light was a monster New Brunswick built ship, registering 2377 tons. She was on her first voyage and must not be confused with the American clipper of that name, owned by Glidden & Williams, of Boston, and built by Toby & Littlefield, of Portsmouth, N.H., a ship of half her size.

In the autumn of 1856 there was tremendous sensation in Liverpool, when the famous James Baines, considered by many to be the fastest ship in the world, was posted as overdue when homeward bound. All sorts of rumours spread like wildfire, and as the weeks went by and no definite information was obtained from incoming ships, something like consternation began to reign in shipping circles.

The James Baines sailed from Melbourne at 1 p.m. on 7th August, 1856, passing through the Heads the following morning. On the 9th she made her best run, 356 miles, royals and skysails being set part of the time, the wind fair but squally. She made one more good run, of 340 miles, and then was held up by light airs and calms all the way to the Horn; here she encountered heavy gales, snowstorms and high cross seas. She was 36 days to the pitch of the Horn; then from 26th September to 8th November another spell of light and baffling winds delayed her passage, and she was 65 days from Port Phillip to the line.

On the 30th October, her great rival the Lightning, which had sailed from Melbourne just three weeks behind her, hove in sight, and the two ships were in company for a week. The meeting of the two Black Ballers is joyfully recorded in the Lightning Gazette, as follows:—

And this was the last the Lightning saw of the James Baines though the two ships arrived in the Mersey within 24 hours of each other, the Lightning leading. Both anchored in the river on 20th November, the Lightning being 84 days out, and the James Baines 105 days.

The following comparison between the two passages is interesting, as it shows that the two ships took the same number of days from the equator to Liverpool, viz., 40 days:—

The James Baines was simply unlucky in having a very light weather passage. Donald Mackay’s ships were never light weather flyers, in spite of setting every kind of light weather kite, from tiny “bulldog,” as they called the moonsail on the main, down to the lowest watersail, that barely cleared the wave crests.

Whilst we are comparing the speeds of James Baines and Lightning, it is only fair to do so in heavy weather as well as light. I therefore give below the logs of their best week’s work on their respective outward passages in 1856. Here it will be seen the James Baines just has the best of it. I have taken the remarks for Lightning’s run from the Lightning Gazette, not the ship’s log.

It will be seen from the above log extracts that the James Baines ran 2276 and the Lightning 2188 miles in the week.

In 1857, the James Baines regained her reputation, coming home in 75 days against the Lightning’s 82 days. Both ships, together with the Champion of the Seas, were at once taken up by the Government, and sent round to Portsmouth to load troops for India, on account of the Mutiny. It was confidently believed that the great Black Ballers would lower the record to Calcutta and the importance of getting the troops out as quickly as possible, was, of course, very great at such a crisis.

After being carefully prepared for the voyage, the James Baines and Champion of the Seas sailed from Portsmouth at the beginning of August. Before sailing the James Baines was inspected by the Queen, when she is stated to have remarked that she did not know she had such a fine ship in her Dominions.

On the 17th August the two ships were met by the homeward bound Oneida, and reported to be making great progress. Both ships were under a cloud of canvas—the James Baines had 34 sails set, including 3 skysails, moonsail and sky stunsails—and presented a splendid appearance as they surged by, their rails red with the jackets of the cheering troops. Unfortunately for the hopes of countless anxious hearts, the two Black Ballers reached the Bay of Bengal at the worst season of the year, and as they had not been built to ghost along in catspaws and zephyrs like the tea clippers, their progress up the Bay was very slow.

Both ships arrived off the Sandheads on the same day, the James Baines being 101 days out and the Champion of the Seas 103. This was a disappointing performance. The Lightning did not sail till the end of August. Owing to the illness of his wife, Captain Enright was obliged to give up his command, and was succeeded by Captain Byrne. On 24th August, the day before her departure from Gravesend, a dinner was given to Captain Enright aboard his old ship, at which several well-known public men, amongst whom was Mr. Benjamin Disraeli, paid their tribute to the world famous sea captain.

The Lightning made a better passage than her sisters, being off the Hooghly, 87 days out.

After their trooping, the Lightning and Champion of the Seas returned to the Australian run, but her Calcutta voyage proved the death of the famous James Baines.

She loaded the usual cargo of jute, rice, linseed and cow hides in the Hooghly, and arrived back in Liverpool in April, 1858. She was hauled into the Huskisson Dock and discharging commenced. The ’tween decks were emptied, and on the 21st April the lower hatches were taken off in the presence of the surveyors, when there appeared no sign of anything wrong. But on the following morning smoke was noticed issuing from her hold, and a fire which started in the main hold soon destroyed her. The following account of her end I have taken from the Illustrated London News:—

The loss of this magnificent ship was considered as a national disaster. Since that date thousands and thousands of people have boarded the James Baines without knowing it, for the old Liverpool Landing Stage was none other than the wreck of this celebrated clipper.

When the great financial depression fell upon America in 1857 and was followed four years later by the Civil War, James Baines seized the opportunity to buy American clippers cheap and many other British firms followed his example. Mr. George Crowshaw, the American shipbroker in London, negotiated the sales and working arrangements. I have given a list in the Appendix of the best known of these ships, which put up the last fight for the sailing ship built of wood. Their day in the Australian trade was a short one; and they soon found iron passenger clippers in the lists against them, even to flying their own house-flag. And in their last days we find the Black Ball and White Star Lines chartering fine iron ships such as the Sam Cearns, Cornwallis and Ellen Stuart.

Space does not admit of more than a few lines on the best known of these later clippers.

The Southern Empire was an old three-decker Atlantic packet ship, and so was the Mackay-built Chariot of Fame, which is credited with a run out to Melbourne of 67 days. There has lately been a reunion in New Zealand of the passengers who came out to Maoriland in that ship.

The Invincible was said to be the tallest ship sailing out of Liverpool. She was a White Star clipper and made some very fast passages.

The Empress of the Seas, No. 1, was also a very fast ship. On 1st June, 1861, she left Liverpool, and arrived in Melbourne on 6th August, 66½ days out.

The Neptune’s Car, another big ship, is notable for a very different reason; for in 1857, when still under the Stars and Stripes, she was navigated for 52 days by the captain’s wife. Captain Patten had placed his mate under arrest for incompetence and insubordination; then whilst the ship was off the Horn beating to the westward, Captain Patten himself became entirely blind. The second mate was no navigator. In this dilemma Mrs. Patten, who was only 24 years of age, took command of the ship and navigated her successfully from the Horn into Frisco Bay.

Golden Age was the ship which claimed to have run 22 knots in the hour with current to help her.

The Royal Dane was a well-known ship in the London River when she was commanded by Captain Bolt. She also was a big three-decker.

The Florence Nightingale was celebrated for her looks.

“BLUE JACKET.”

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“ROYAL DANE.”

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A curious incident happened anent the Mistress of the Seas; a passenger brought an action against the ship because he was ducked during the ceremony of crossing the line and the captain was fined £100.

The Sunda was a very fine fast ship, and made some fine passages under the famous Bully Bragg.

Besides some smaller Nova Scotia built ships such as the Conway, Wansfell, Utopia and David MacIver, some of the best of the later Black Ballers were engaged in the Queensland emigration trade in the late sixties and early seventies.

The Flying Cloud and the Sunda once had a great race out to Moreton Bay, in which the Sunda beat the Flying Cloud by 18 miles in a 4-day run which averaged 16 knots; this was the voyage in which Flying Cloud’s boat was capsized between Brisbane and the anchorage, the second mate and all in her being drowned.

In 1870 I find the following passages to Queensland:

In the early days of the gold excitement, the emigrant ships rushed out and home, but in the sixties we find them making short intermediate passages; for instance, the Sunda and Empress of the Seas one year transported thousands of sheep from Australia to New Zealand, each ship making two trips between Port Phillip and Port Chalmers, with several thousands of sheep on board each trip.

In 1862 several ships were hurried across with diggers from Melbourne to Port Chalmers for the gold rush to Gabriel’s Gully. Money ran like water in Port Chalmers in those days, and as usual the gold miners were a pretty uproarious crowd. The Lightning, which was commanded at that date by Captain Tom Robertson, the marine painter, made a special trip with 900 diggers on board, and they gave Captain Robertson so much trouble that he put into the Bluff and landed a number of them there. The Blue Jacket, also, took a load of this troublesome cargo.

A favourite round in the latter days of the Liverpool soft-wood clippers was from Melbourne across to Auckland and from there over to the Chincas to load guano. From this the survivors gradually descended to the Quebec timber trade. By the early seventies I find Marco Polo, Red Jacket, Ben Nevis, and other well-known ships already staggering to and fro across the Atlantic between the Mersey and the St. Lawrence, whilst in June, 1874, the Flying Cloud got ashore on the New Brunswick coast, when making for St. John’s, and was so strained that she was compelled to discharge her cargo and go on the slip for repairs. Here misfortune again overcame the grand old ship, for she took fire and was so gutted that she was sold for breaking up.

It is curious how many of the old American-built soft-wood ships were destroyed by fire, their number including the James Baines, Lightning, Empress of the Seas No. 1, Blue Jacket No. 1, Ocean Chief, Fiery Star, and second Sovereign of the Seas.

The Lightning was burnt on 31st October, 1869, whilst alongside the pier at Geelong loading wool, and she already had 4000 bales of wool on board when the fire was discovered at 1.30 in the morning in her fore hold. From the first the ship seemed to be doomed, and it was feared that the wharf might catch fire. She had an anchor out ahead, and an attempt was made to heave her clear of the pier, but the flames soon drove the crew from the windlass; however, on the mooring lines being cast off, she drifted clear, and swung to her anchor, the whole fore part of the ship being now in flames. The foremast, which was an iron one, melted in its step owing to the heat and soon went over the side. An attempt was made to scuttle her by the desperate means of bombarding her from two 32-pounders, and to a modern gunner the result was astounding to say the least of it, for at only 300 yards range most of the rounds missed the Lightning altogether, whilst the few that hit her did more harm than good by giving the wind access to the fire and thereby increasing its fury. After burning all day, the famous old ship sank at sundown.

“LIGHTNING,” on Fire at Geelong.

From a photograph belonging to F. G. Layton.

The cause of the fire on the Lightning was agreed to be spontaneous combustion. A very different reason was given for the burning of the second Sovereign of the Seas. This ship had just arrived in Sydney with emigrants in 1861 and was discharging at Campbell’s Wharf when the fire broke out, and at the coroner’s investigation the jury found “that the ship Sovereign of the Seas was wilfully, maliciously and feloniously set on fire on the 10th September, and that there was sufficient evidence to commit one of the ship’s sailors, then in custody of the water police, on the charge.” The Sydney fire brigade fought the flames for a whole day without avail; then half a dozen ship’s carpenters attempted to scuttle her, but all in vain, and she was left to her fate.

The Ocean Chief, which was burnt at the Bluff, New Zealand, was also said to have been set on fire by her crew.

The first Empress of the Seas was burnt at Queenscliff on the 19th December, 1861, three months after the Sovereign of the Seas had been set on fire at Sydney.

The first Blue Jacket left Lyttelton, N.Z., homeward bound, and was abandoned on fire off the Falkland Isles on 9th March, 1869. Nearly two years later, on 8th December, 1871, to be exact, Blue Jacket’s figure-head was found washed up on the shore of Rottnest Island, off Fremantle, Western Australia. Part of it was charred by fire, but there was no mistaking the identity of the figure-head, which was described as “a man from the waist up, in old sailor’s costume, a blue jacket with yellow buttons, the jacket open in the front, no waistcoat, loose shirt, and large knotted handkerchief round the neck; with a broad belt and large square buckle and cutlass hilt at the side. On either side of the figure-head was a scroll, saying:—‘Keep a sharp lookout!’”

On 1st April, 1865, the Fiery Star left Moreton Bay for London. On the 19th one of the men reported a strong smell of smoke in the foc’s’le—this soon burst forth in volumes and a fire was located in the lower hold. The captain, named Yule, immediately had all hatchways battened down and ventilation pipes blocked up. The ship was running free, 400 miles from Chatham Island. A few days before a heavy sea had made matchwood of two of the boats, so the westerlies were evidently blowing strong.

On the 20th a steam pump was rigged down the fore hatchway, and wetted sails were fastened over all scuttles and vents in the deck. But the fire continued to gain, and at 6 p.m. it burst through the port bow and waterways. The four remaining boats were at once provisioned and got over the side. Seeing that there was not room for everybody in the boats, Mr. Sargeant the chief officer, 4 A.B.’s and 13 apprentices agreed to stand by the ship—the remainder of the passengers and crew, to the number of 78, leaving in the boats under the captain.

As soon as the boats had left, Mr. Sargeant renewed every effort to subdue the fire, and at the same time altered his course to get into the track of other ships. Then for 21 days he and his gallant band fought the flames and the numerous gales of those regions. Finally on 11th May, when the foremast was almost burnt through and tottering, a ship called the Dauntless hove in sight and took the mate and his worn-out crew off the doomed Fiery Star.

For their gallantry in remaining behind, Mr. Sargeant and his men were presented with £160 by the people of Auckland, New Zealand, and right well they deserved it, for in all the glorious history of our Mercantile Marine fewer brave acts have ever been recorded.

Many an old Black Baller ended her days as a coal hulk. Even the winter North Atlantic could not down the Red Jacket and Donald Mackay, and eventually Red Jacket went to Cape Verde and Donald Mackay to Madeira as coal hulks. How many of the Union-Castle passengers knew, when they cast their eyes pityingly or perhaps disdainfully on the grimy looking hulk floating a cable’s length or so away from their spotless liner, that they were looking upon a crack passenger ship of their grandfather’s day.

Light Brigade was a coal hulk at Gibraltar for many years, having as a companion the famous Three Brothers.

The Golden South, after lying in Kerosene Bay, Port Jackson, for about twenty years with her holds full of coal, was burnt through sparks from the old reformatory ship Vernon falling upon her decks. The burning of the two ships lit up the hills for miles round, and many an old time Sydney-sider will remember the spectacle.

The Young Australia, after ten years’ successful trading between England and Brisbane, was wrecked on the north point of Moreton Island on 31st May, 1872, when homeward bound, just four and a half hours after leaving her anchorage off the pilot station. Whilst the ship was in the act of going about, the wind fell calm and the heavy easterly swell and southerly current set the ship towards the rocks. The anchor was let go too late, and the heavy swell hove the ship broadside on to the rocks. With some difficulty the passengers were got ashore; and before night, owing to the way in which the heavy swell was grinding the ship on the rocks, it was deemed advisable for the crew to abandon her.

“LIGHT BRIGADE.”

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“YOUNG AUSTRALIA.”

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By the 6th June the wreck had broken in half and was full of water, and on the 7th it was sold by auction in Brisbane, and after some brisk bidding was knocked down to a Mr. Martin for the sum of £7100.

The Champion of the Seas foundered off the Horn when homeward bound in 1877.

The White Star was wrecked in 1883.

Southern Empire fell a victim to the North Atlantic in 1874.

Royal Dane was wrecked on the coast of Chile when homeward bound with guano in 1877.

The Morning Star foundered on a passage from Samarang to U.K. in 1879.

The Shalimar was bought by the Swiss and the Morning Light by the Germans, who renamed her J. M. Wendt.

The Queen of the Colonies was wrecked off Ushant in 1874, when bound from Java to Falmouth.

The Legion of Honour went ashore on the Tripoli coast in 1876, after changing her flag.

The Marco Polo in her old age was owned by Wilson & Blain, of South Shields; then the Norwegians bought her. After years in the Quebec timber trade, she was piled up on Cape Cavendish, Prince Edward Island, in August, 1883, and on the 6th her cargo of pitch-pine and the famous old ship herself were sold by auction and only fetched £600.

And so we come to the end of a short but wonderful period in the “History of Sail.”—Sic transit gloria mundi.