Flying Cloud
Owner: Manhattan Sailing Club
LOA: 24'
Type: J/24
Designer: Rod Johnstone
Year Built: 19__?
Material: Fiberglass
Sail # FC
Commissioned into the Manhattan Sailing Club fleet on .
Our club boat Flying Cloud is named after the famous clipper ship.
The clipper Flying Cloud
(from www.eraoftheclipperships.com)
In the fall of 1850, George Francis Train, Jr., the younger partner of Enoch Train & Co., most likely acting on his older cousin Enoch Train's orders, approached Donald McKay about building a new ship for the firm. This is how he described it in his memoirs that he wrote half a century after the fact:
When the gold fever was getting the country frantic, and everyone apparently wanted to go to California, I said to McKay, "I want a big ship, one that will be larger than the Ocean Monarch" McKay replied, "Two hundred tons bigger?" "No," said I, "I want a ship of 2000 tons." McKay was one of those men who merely ask what is needed. He said he would build the sort of ship I wanted. "I shall call her the Flying Cloud," I said.
George Francis Train, Jr., often referred to Enoch Train as his uncle. They were actually first cousins, twice removed, as their fathers were first cousins. After joining the firm as a junior clerk, he had steadily worked his way up to partnership. The above quoted passage is from his autobiography, My life in Many Lands, and this account may be embellished.
Enoch Train gave Donald McKay a free hand to design the Flying Cloud and this freed McKay's imagination to chase after in his mind just what his ideal of a extreme clipper ship designed for the Cape Horn run should be. The Surprise had been launched two months earlier at Samuel Hall's East Boston shipyard and perhaps Donald McKay was there in attendance and was most certainly familiar with Pook's latest extreme clipper. His ideas intrigued McKay. Pook espoused that a clipper with a full midship section and well-modeled ends was capable of being just as fast as a sharper ship of less carrying capacity. And in heavy seas the fuller bodied ship would have more stability and power and would be even faster than the sharper ship with big deadrise, thus making her the more seaworthy ship as well as carry more cargo.
In hindsight following the launching of the Stag Hound, Donald McKay could see that his first clipper ship, Stag Hound, was quite sharp with a deadrise of 40 inches, and those who attended her launching said that she resembled a yacht more than a commercial vessel.
While the loading of cargo went on at New York, some people thought the Stag Hound "overhatted" and at dangerous risk of being driven under by heavy seas. So much so in some eyes that New York maritime insurance underwriters had charged her owners a premium. Some historians have suggested that in light of this, Donald McKay decided to design the Flying Cloud with a fuller midship section and to scale down her masts and yards.
Soon, Donald McKay began carving away on his lift model constructed of cedar and pine layers of wood and held together with dowels. Meticulously, the Flying Cloud model that he saw in his mind's eye, recalled from his late night dreams, took on the shape that he intuitively desired, sanding and smoothing the model till it met with his exacting approval. This time around, he departed from the V-bottomed hull that he had designed for the Stag Hound and went with a more flat-floored hull.
McKay had learned his lessons well in the construction of water-line half-hull models from the master, Orlando B. Merrill, from his earlier days at Newburyport. Once he was satisfied with his workmanship, he removed the dowels and the rectangular slices of wood, known as "lifts," and one by one transferred the lines of each "layer" of the hull to graph paper called a "sheer plan" by maritime architects. The scale ratio translated out to one quarter of an inch for each foot of the ship, 48 times the original length of the lines. The lines were now ready to be transferred to McKay's huge mold loft that was the size of a ship. It was here that a full side of the Flying Cloud was charted in chalk with a different color of chalk used for each lift layer. The shape of each lift edge's chalkline on the mold loft floor showed the exact water lines of the hull at various depths. With his keen attentive mind and trained eye, Donald McKay had no trouble visualizing his one dimensional colored chalk lines of the Flying Cloud's three-dimensional hull.
McKay's choice of wood for the 208-foot keel was rock maple. This huge keel could not be obtained from one tree trunk, so it was constructed from separate sections using the tongue-and-groove method, fastened together and bolted down with iron driftbolts. Circular grooves were drilled over the length of the keelson and filled with salt pickle as a protection against rot, a method learned from Robert Bennett Forbes who had picked up this ingenious idea while visiting British shipyards.
Slowly, the ribs of the Flying Cloud grew out from the keel and keelson and the shape of the ship gradually emerged and soon a keen-eyed observer such as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, who often visited and walked around McKay's shipyard, could make out her growing flat-floored hull. Inspired by the sight, he captured it all in a poem. George Francis Train always claimed that BY THE SEASIDE was a poem about the building of the Flying Cloud. Such lofty poetic lines as these leaves little doubt.
The moon and the evening star
Were hanging in the shrouds;
Every mast, as it passed
Seemed to rake the passing clouds.
From dawn to dusk the sound of heavy mallets and hammers could be heard throughout the yard, as well as the din of screaming steam saws that cut the planking to the required lengths. The mechanical angle saw that McKay designed cut out the ship's knees to exact specifications. Steam engines chugged away with their derricks hoisting heavy timbers to where they were needed.
Donald McKay was everywhere in the yard, often working alongside his workmen dressed in his business suit and hat, going through stacks of timber or climbing about the scaffolding directing the workmen's efforts here and there, with sawdust in his brown bushy hair. He had piercing black eyes and his skin had a tan leathery look to it from his many long hours spent outside on his feet in the yard under the sun. McKay was hardly ever behind a desk. He was very unpretentious claiming only to be a "mechanic," stating one time at a launching, "My speech is rude and uncultivated, but my feelings, I trust, are warm and true." But in truth, he was more than that, he was a zealous craftsman who fretted over every detail in each and every ship that he built.
He expected no less from his men. To those who met his high standards, he rewarded, and he firmly dealt with and dismissed those who didn't. His loyal workers boasted that the McKay yard was one big family. During the prosperous years of the clipper ship era, McKay could afford to treat his workers well and did. He often bestowed upon a worker's family a loan or a gift. This generous attitude would hurt him in the later years, but while the days were prosperous it would go on. He was very generous in sharing his prosperity as long as it lasted and beyond.
Donald McKay would often wake up in the middle of the night and walk down from Eagle Hill to his yard in the dark, where night watchmen would see him standing alone in the dark beside one of his ships with his arms outstretched caressing the hull. Donald McKay had sought solace in this way in the lonely hours of the night following the death of his wife, Albenia, in December 1848.
Ten months later in October, 1849, Donald McKay married again. This time to Mary Cressy Litchfield of East Boston who had come to be his secretary following Albenia's death.
After the marriage, Mary did her best to continue helping with the running of the shipyard, but she did not posses the astute business sense and rare ship designing talents that Albenia had. She was very good, however, at suggesting names for many of the later McKay clipper ships. She was also a good mother to all of the children.
Already, five of Donald McKay's brothers and their families had moved to East Boston, along with their growing families. His parents were there also. Donald McKay had kept his promise that he made to his family many years ago in 1826 before he had departed Halifax on that lumber schooner for New York.
The Flying Cloud was larger than the Stag Hound by 250 tons, and upon completion had a capacity of 1782 tons, somewhat less than the 2000 tons called for by George Francis Train, Jr., or so claimed. McKay had learned his lessons well from the Stag Hound's dismasting on her maiden voyage, and had scaled down the Cloud's sail plan and increased the thickness of her masts. The original main yard of the Stag Hound had been 86 ft. and Donald McKay scaled back the Flying Cloud's main yard to 82 ft., even though Flying Cloud was larger than her predecessor by sixteen percent.
The work went on at a feverish pace. Soon, the figurehead, a white and gold angel on the wing with a trumpet raised to her mouth, was juxtaposed to the bow of the Flying Cloud. William B. Gleason, a renowned figurehead carver of Boston's Commercial Street, carved the figurehead. At the curve of the bow on both sides of the ship her name Flying Cloud appeared in fine ornate gold gilt letters. In the rush to complete the ship, the trailboards were left off the bow. On her elliptical stern, gold gilt letters spelled out her name Flying Cloud again along with her port of hail.
Rosewood and mahogany paneling ran throughout her cabins, as the cabinetmakers strove to do their job with perfection, putting the finishing touches on this beautiful new ship. She was 235 feet from knightheads to taffrail, and 225 feet on deck. Workmen methodically installed ventilators, cranes, capstans, pumps, winches, and windlasses, all of the latest and finest quality. Her sail loft now stored away three sets of sails of Colt's cotton duck, all cut and sown, the heaviest to handle the screaming westerlies that the Flying Cloud would encounter off Cape Horn. The Flying Cloud was now the largest clipper ship in the world. George Francis Train, Jr. in his memoirs described what happened next:
Not only shipbuilders but the whole world was talking of the Flying Cloud. Her appearance in the world of commerce was a great historic event. No sooner was the Flying Cloud built than many shipowners wanted to buy her; among others the house of Grinell, Minturn & Co. of the Swallow-Tail Line of Liverpool asked what we would take for her. I replied that I wanted $90,000 which meant a handsome profit. The answer came back immediately--"We will take her." We sent the vessel to New York under Captain Creesy while I went on by railway. There I closed the sale, and the proudest moment of my life, up to that time, was when I received a check from Moses H. Grinnell, the New York head of the house, for $90,000.
As usual, this was another one of George Train's embellished accounts of what actually happened, for Enoch Train was the one who would have made such an important decision, but George Francis Train may have actually carried out the transaction in accordance Enoch's wishes. It is known that at that time Enoch Train's finances were again stretched thin with the Stag Hound somewhere at sea off Cape Horn, on her way to San Francisco. To sell the Flying Cloud now was an easy way to make a huge profit without taking any risk and his asking price was high considering that he had only paid McKay $50,000 to build the Flying Cloud.
But the house of Grinnell, Minturn & Co., who already owned another extreme clipper, the Sea Serpent, went for it, no doubt in response to N. L. & G. Griswold's gigantic new clipper, the Challenge, that was taking shape in William Webb's shipyard on the East River in New York. All of the vessels of their Swallowtail fleet were busily engaged in the transatlantic, China, and Cuba trades, and they needed and could afford a new clipper to get into the California trade. All the New York yards were busy building clippers for their competitors, so they had sent their agents out to scout the New England shipyards to find them such a clipper ship.
The sale was made in late March while the Flying Cloud was still on the stocks. Enoch Train was most happy to make such a handsome profit, but he would eventually come to regret parting with the Flying Cloud saying that selling her was the biggest mistake of his life.
The Flying Cloud, Donald McKay's second extreme clipper, was launched on the rainy, windy morning of April 15, 1851. The inclement weather of the past few days led to sparse public notice and this certainly kept the crowd numbers down at the launching. In sharp contrast to the launching of the Stag Hound four months earlier to a cheering crowd of ten thousand people.
Upon the launching of the Flying Cloud, Donald McKay was heard to have remarked: "Maybe the underwriters will not consider this one a 'coffin ship'."
Soon, her topmasts were in place and the workman lost little time in the rigging of the Flying Cloud.
Duncan McLean of The Boston Daily Atlas covered her launching with this lively account:
THE NEW CLIPPER SHIP FLYING CLOUD, OF NEW YORK.
If great length, sharpness of ends, with proportionate breadth and depth, conduce to speed, the Flying Cloud must be uncommonly swift, for in all these she is great. Her length on the keel is 208 feet, on deck 225, and overall, from the knight heads to the taffrail, 235-extreme breadth of beam 41 feet, depth of old 21 1/2, including 7 feet 8 inches height of between-decks, and she will register about 1750 tons. Her keel is of rock maple, in three depths, sided 16 inches, and moulded 44, or 37 inches clear of the garboards; dead rise at half floor 30 inches, rounding of sides 6 inches, and sheer about 3 feet.
Her bow, below the planksheer, is slightly concave, and at the load displacement line may be about 2 inches concave from a straight line. As it rises, however, the lines are gradually modified until they assume the convex, to correspond with her outline on the rail. At eighteen feet from the apron, inside, on the level of the between decks, she is only eleven feet wide. She has the sharpest bow we ever saw on any ship, although she is ten inches taller on the floor than most of the other large clippers which have been built here.
She has neither head nor trail boards, but forming the extreme, where the line of the planksheer and the carved work on the navel hoods terminate, she has the full figure of an angel on the wing, with a trumpet raised to her mouth. The figure is finely designed and exceedingly well executed, and is a beautiful finish to the bow. It is the work of Mr. Gleason, who made the figure-head of the Shooting Star.
Her name in gilded letters is let into the curve of her bow, between the mouldings of the rails; and it also ornaments the quarters.
Her great length, and boldly defined sheer, give her a splendid appearance, broadside on. Her lines aft are fuller than those forward; and her stern, which is elliptical, is small and neat, and is formed from the line of the planksheer. Her name and port of hail are carved and gilded upon it, surrounded by finely designed ornamental work. In her general outline, she bears some resemblance to the Stag Hound, but though her bow is somewhat sharper, yet she is 10 inches fuller on the floor than that splendid ship.
"Her bulwarks are 5 feet high from the deck, or rather her main rail is that height, surmounted by a monkey rail of 16 inches.
She has a topgallant forecastle 30 feet long amidships, fitted for the accommodation of one watch of her crew, and in its after wings are two water closets. Abaft the foremast is a house 41 feet long by 16 wide, and 6 1/2 high, which contains quarters for the other watch of the crew; also the galley, and other apartments. her poop deck is the height of the main rail, 68 feet long, and is surrounded by an open rail supported on turned stanchions. In the front of the poop is a small portico, which protects the entrance to the cabins, of which she has three. The first contains the pantry and state-rooms for the officers, and the second, or great cabin, is beautifully wainscoted with satin wood, mahogany and rose wood, set off with enameled pilasters, cornices, gilt work, &c. The panels are of satin wood, gothic in their form and are set in mahogany frames edged in rose wood. The after cabin is small, and is fitted in the same beautiful style. It contains two useful apartments, and is otherwise neatly arranged.
A few particulars of the style of her construction will show that she is a very strong vessel. We have already stated that her keel was in three depths, moulded 44, and sided 16 inches; her floor timbers average 12 by 17 on the keel, and are bolted in the usual style with 1 1/4 inch copper and iron, and she has 3 depths of midship keelsons, which combined are moulded 45 inches, and sided from 17 to 15, making her nearly 9 feet through the back bone. She has also two depths of sister keelsons, the first 16 by 10, and the second 14 by 10, cross bolted at right angles and diagonally, through the navel timbers. The ceiling on the floor is 4 1/2 inches thick, square bolted, and on the bilge she has two keelsons, each 10 by 16 inches, upon which the lower ends of the hanging knees rest, and all the other ceiling in the hold is 7 inches thick, all scarphed and square fastened. Her lower deck beams are 15 inches square, and those under the upper deck 9 1/2 by 16 inches amidships. The hold stanchions are clasped with iron above and below, and are also kneed to the beams, and to the keelson. Her ends are almost filled with long pointers and hooks, some of the pointers extending over 40 feet along the skin. Her chain lockers are in the hold abaft the foremast, and abaft the mainmast she has a large iron tank for water.
The hanging and lodging knees connected with the beams of both decks are very stout and closely fastened.
The between-decks waterways are 15 inches square, the strake inside of them 10 by 14, and that over them 10 by 16, bolted in superior style. Under the upper deck beams she has a clamp 7 inches thick; the rest of the ceiling between it and the standing strake over the waterways is 5 1/2 inches thick. She has a long and stout hook forward, and the thick work aft is carried round the stern. The stanchions are of oak, turned, and are secured with iron rods, screws and nuts, and the deck planking is of hard pine, 3 1/2 inches thick. Her comings and mast partners are well kneed off, and securely bolted.
The upper deck waterways are 12 by 14 inches, with two thick strakes inside of them; the deck planking is of white pine 3 1/2 inches thick, and the covering board is 6 by 16 inches. her bulwark stanchions are of oak, and between the main and rack rails there is a stout clamp, which extends fore and aft. The main rail is 6 by 16 inches.
Her garboards are 7 inches thick, the next strake 6, the third 5, and the rest of the planking on the bottom 4 1/2 inches. Her wales, of which she has 18 strakes, are 5 1/2 by 7 inches, and she is planked up flush in the planksheer. The boarding of her bulwarks is neatly tongued and grooved, and altogether, both inside and out, she is most beautifully finished. Her sides are as smooth as glass and every moulding and line is carried out with mathematical precision. Outside she is black-inside, pearl color.
Her frame is mostly of superior white oak, and her scantling of southern pine; she is strongly copper fastened, has many locust treenails in her, driven through and wedged in both ends, and her iron fastening is of the best kind. Her hood ends are bolted alternately from either side, through each other and the stem, so that the loss of her cutwater would not affect her safety or cause a leak. The same is true of her aft, so far as the bolting is concerned.
She is seasoned with salt, has air ports below, brass ventilators along the line of her planksheer and in her bits and Emerson's patent ventilators for the purification of the hold. We consider Emerson's ventilators indispensable, for every class of ships, but more particularly for packets, and those trading in warm climates.
The Flying Cloud is a full rigged ship, and her masts rake alike, viz, 1 1/4 inch to the foot. The following are the dimensions of the yards:
MASTS
Diameter, Inches. Length, Feet. Mast-heads, Feet.
Fore..................35 82 13
Top....................17 46 9
Topgallant......11 25 0
Royal.................10 17 0
Skysail..............8 1/2 13 Pole.......5
Main...................36 89 14
Top......................18 51 9 1/2
Topgallant........12 28 0
Royal..................11 19 0
Skysail...............9 1/2 14 1/2 Pole.....5 1/2
Mizen.................26 78 12
Top......................12 1/2 40 8
Topgallant..........9 22 0
Royal....................8 14 0
Skysail.................7 10 Pole.......4
YARDS
Fore.....................20 70 Yard-arms......4 1/2
Top......................15 55 5
Topgallant........10 44 1/2 3
Royal.....................7 32 2
Skysail.................6 1/2 22 1 1/2
Main....................22 82 4 1/2
Top......................17 64 5
Topgallant........15 50 3
Royal...................10 1/2 37 2
Skysail.................7 24 1 1/2
Crossjack...........16 56 4
Mizen topsail...11 1/2 45 4 1/2
Topgallant.........10 33 2 1/2
Royal.....................7 25 1 1/2
Skysail.................6 20 1
The bowsprit is 28 1/2 inches in diameter, and 20 feet outboard; jibboom 16 1/2 inches in diameter, and is divided at 16 feet for the inner and 13 for the outer jib, with 5 feet end; Spanker boom 55 feet, gaff 40, main Spencer gaff 24 feet, and the outer spars in proportion. She is rigged in nearly the same style as the Stag Hound, and looks very well aloft. Messrs. Carnes and Cheesman rigged her. Aloft, as well as below, no expense has been spared to render her a perfect ship.
She was built at East Boston by Mr. Donald McKay, and her admirers are sanguine that she will outsail any vessel in the world. Messrs. Grinell, Minturn & Co., of New York, own her, and intend her for the California and China trade. One-third of her cargo is already engaged for San Francisco, and it is expected that she will soon be filled up. Capt. Creesy, long and favorably known as the commander of the ship Onieda, is her captain, and from his established reputation it is confidently anticipated that he will make her keep away with the fleetest of the clipper fleet.
* * * * *
The Flying Cloud's masts all raked one and one quarter inches per foot, and this design characteristic, common among clippers, allowed the wind to lift the ship rather than pushing it down in the water and reduced the ship's inclination to pitch.
Aloft, the Flying Cloud carried 10,000 yards of canvas, an extraordinary spread of sail.
On April 26, 1851, the steam tug Ajax towed the Flying Cloud out of Boston Harbor to New York with her new captain, Josiah Perkins Creesy, already aboard tuning up her stays and running gear, testing them out and studying the ship responses to the helm. The Flying Cloud was steered by the latest patented gear that was more advanced than the standard gear of the day, in that the patented gear was more compact and the steering was tighter with little lost motion.
The renowned naval architect F. Alexander Magoun described the steering apparatus thus:
The wheel turned a great screw, the two ends of which were threaded in opposite directions. Sleeves travelled on these two threads and operated a yoke on the rudder stock, one pulling, one pushing as the wheel turned over. A ship-shape, oval cover protected the mechanism from the elements and left the deck entirely clear.
The helmsman stood on the wooden grating which offered him a surer footing beside the advantages of being dryer and warmer.
Enoch Train had sold the Flying Cloud "while on the stocks" to Grinnell, Minturn & Company with the stipulation that he would deliver the Flying Cloud to New York for inspection and acceptance. Captain Josiah Perkins Creesy made sure the Flying Cloud was ready for her maiden run around the Horn.
Every possible detail of the Flying Cloud's gear and rigging was checked out methodically by this tried and true man of the sea from Marblehead, Massachusetts.
Creesy was well known to the New York merchant houses and had engaged in the New York - China - East India trade for twelve years, five years from 1845 to 1850 as captain of the Onieda, a Grinnell, Minturn & Company ship. He was known for five swift voyages from New York to Anjier in less than 90 days.
Ship owners and underwriters thought very highly of him, for he always brought the Onieda home intact, and many of those gentlemen were his personal friends. On his last voyage home to New York in March 1851 in command of the Onieda, Creesy turned over command of the ship to his younger brother William.
Creesy had high hopes that the company would find another ship for him to command, preferably one of the new clipper ships that were taking shape in the New York and New England shipyards at the time.
Josiah Perkins Creesy was the son of a New Hampshire carpenter. In his youth, "Perkins," had been a big strapping freckle-faced boy from Marblehead who spent his summer vacations frequently sailing over to Salem on a dory and hanging about the docks.
The sight of an Indiaman sailing into port from half way around the world with monkeys in the rigging and the rich aroma of spices wafting in the salt sea air intrigued him. The amazing variety of ships' figureheads, especially those of wild animals and warriors, fired up his imagination and he held the sea captains of the Indiaman fleet in his highest esteem. There was no way to keep young Perkins away from his heart's desire.
His parents permitted their son to ship before the mast, and he soon steadily advanced through all the grades, and at twenty-three years old became a captain and went on to a long, illustrious career at sea. Now, he was captain of the Flying Cloud, the newest and largest clipper ship the world had yet to see.
On April 28th after a thirty-six hour passage, the Ajax reached New York with the Flying Cloud in tow. They proceeded up the East River under watchful eyes to pier 20 at the west side of Burling slip, located at the foot of Maiden Lane, near by the Grinnell & Minturn & Company offices on Fletcher Street.
The loading of her cargo bound for California would soon commence, all under the supervision of the company's own longshoremen and stevedores, a practice unusual for that time. From her topsail yards hung a large banner proclaiming that this ship was up "FOR CALIFORNIA." For almost a month, the Flying Cloud was the loftiest ship moored along the two mile East River waterfront that stretched from South Street to Corlears Point, but not for long.
On May 24th, William Webb's extreme clipper, the Challenge, was launched from the Webb shipyard a mile or so up the East River and she was larger than the Flying Cloud. Soon, the New York newspapers took notice of the two extreme clippers and began to speculate upon the sailing qualities of both clippers, and how they would stack up against each other in their coming race around the Horn to San Francisco. The stage was set for one of the most thrilling chapters in the era of the clipper ships.
First Voyage of the Flying Cloud
The Flying Cloud
Elaborate receptions were held aboard the Flying Cloud and the Challenge with special guests and the press invited aboard to inspect both ships. Robert Waterman was in his element entertaining the Griswold brothers' and William Webb's invited guests aboard the Challenge and basked in all the limelight while playing his role to the hilt. All the while, shipping merchants continued rushing their goods aboard both ships.
Mining equipment and supplies came aboard the Flying Cloud, as well as all sorts of goods for the growing number of businesses and households in San Francisco. A wide assortment of gourmet foodstuffs to suit the tastes of the most discriminating and wealthy San Franciscans arrived right before the sailing date; cheese, butter, sugar-cured hams, brandied peaches, and large stores of brandy and whiskey. Bales of cotton duck were added last to fill in the odd spaces in the hold.
When Captain Creesy was not busy supervising the loading of cargo, he interviewed potential sailors--mostly landlubbers--in search of quick passage to the gold diggings. Real sailors were scarce. Even the Liverpool Packet Rats were in short supply. Creesy had combed the taverns along the South Street waterfront for experienced sailors with little success.
Eventually, with some help from Grinnell, Minturn & Company recruiters, he was able to bring together a semblance of a crew of 59 able-bodied seamen, ordinary seamen, and boys. Among them, of course, were a number of derelicts provided by the crimps, but certainly a far better crew selection than most clippers sailed with during those times from New York.
The ownership of the Flying Cloud was divided up into 32nd shares. Moses H. Grinnell and Robert Minturn each held 9/32 shares. Henry Grinnell, John E. Williams, and Francis S. Hathaway each held 4/32 shares. Captain Creesy held 2/32 shares. Francis S. Hathaway was a good friend of the captain and his influence had much to do with Creesy getting the command of the Flying Cloud.
Grinnell, Minturn & Co. sent the following letter on May 28th, via Gregory's Express to Captain F.W. Macondray in San Francisco to be delivered to their agent S. Griffitts Morgan. The letter follows:
Dear Sir:
We have the pleasure to advise you that we shall dispatch from here the fine clipper ship Flying Cloud for your port with a cargo of our freight. She will sail on the 31st Inst. under command of Captain Creesy formerly of the Onieda, and he will call upon you on arrival and arrange for the management of the ship's business, which we beg to recommend to your best attention and shall be much obliged by your affording Capt. Creesy every assistance and giving the ship all practicable dispatch. As regards the disposal of her freight money we will write you hereafter. We hope by the mail now expected from California to hear of the arrival with you of the Sea Serpent of which ship we have had no tiding since she put into Valparaiso.
We are, very
truly yours
Grinnell Minturn & Co.
Eleanor Creesy came aboard the Flying Cloud and unpacked her chests in the captain's cabin. Among their belongings were Matthew Fontaine Maury's Wind and Current Charts and Sailing Directions. Eleanor Creesy, known to her husband and friends as Ellen, would serve as navigator and would guide the Flying Cloud over her 14,000-mile journey around Cape Horn to the Golden Gate.
Eleanor Creesy, [Hereafter known as Ellen or Eleanor Creesy in the story] was from an old seafaring family of Marblehead and had no fear of the sea. She excelled as a competent navigator as she had learned many navigational secrets as a young girl from her father. She was most enthusiastic about navigation, unusual for a woman at that time, and was an avid admirer of Maury and his Wind and Current Charts and Sailing Directions, and was known to have corresponded with Maury in the past.
Ellen had sailed aboard every ship that her husband commanded ever since 1841, after they were married in Marblehead. She had sailed to China many times and knew the oceans of the world very well. But Ellen and Perkins had never sailed around Cape Horn before.
The twelve passengers who booked passage aboard the Flying Cloud, all from Massachusetts and New York, came aboard on Saturday, May 31st, placed their luggage in their staterooms and soon departed the ship back to the hotel to await the sailing. None of the passengers were gold seekers, but were traveling to the west to seek out opportunities in the business community, and to join other family members who had gone before.
Three of the passengers who came aboard to stow their belongings were Whitney Lyon and his two sisters, Ellen and Sarah, three members of a family from Chicopee Falls, Massachusetts; heading west. Their father, Lemuel Lyon, had recently returned from the Sandwich Islands, where he had successfully engaged in the California-Sandwich Islands trade. His had returned to Massachusetts to gather up his large family of six children, and begin to make the move West. Lemuel Lyon's wife, Ann Frances Whitney, had died nine years before.
It was an eleven-year stretch between the ages of his children. Whitney was the eldest at twenty-four. Sarah was next at twenty-two and Ellen had just turned twenty and planned to marry her future husband upon arrival at San Francisco. Sarah planned to sail on to the Sandwich Islands after the wedding to join her brother and father.
The three youngest siblings, Maria, Levina, and Elisha; nineteen, fifteen, and fourteen respectively, were to move to Lexington to be near extended family and attend as "boarding scholars" the Academy, until their father sent for them in a year or two.
Lemuel would press on and take a steamer to Aspinwall and the Isthmus route across New Grenada to Panama City ahead of his children departing on the Flying Cloud, and meet them upon their arrival at San Francisco.
Other passengers came aboard the Flying Cloud to stow their possessions. Among them, Mrs. Sarah Bowman and her ten year old son, Edward, by her first marriage. The two were en route to San Francisco to join Sarah's second husband, Charles Carson Bowman, ten years her senior, who had gone ahead west to seek business opportunities in California spurred on by the Gold Rush.
Charles Carson Bowman had been a well established Dorchester merchant who dealt in West India goods and groceries. They had lead a comfortable life in Massachusetts for a time before Charles decided to seek his fortune in San Francisco. Sarah and Edward would join him there. The two departed and returned to the Astor Hotel to await the sailing.
The winds blew in briskly from the Northwest that Sunday morning of June 1, 1851, and a large crowd of water-gazers gathered along the waterfront, as they did every few days, to watch another giant clipper depart on the Cape Horn run to the Golden Gate. This time around, it was the Flying Cloud's turn, as the last of her cargo was loaded aboard and soon her hatches were closed and she made ready to sail.
Along the promenade in Battery Park at the southern tip of Manhattan, ladies strolled around with parasols to shield away the midday sun, accompanied by gentlemen in top hats. Others less well dressed also wandered along the promenade railing, all eager to see the goings on in the harbor, hopeful of catching a glimpse of the latest clipper being towed down the river to Battery Point that would soon dwarf all the other ships in the harbor.
All kinds of sailing vessels moved through the harbor; schooners, sloops, and brigs, in all directions. Up and down the North River, steamers made their way, regardless of the tides. Pilot boats rushed about out toward the Narrows. Steam tugs chugged away up the East River, some with large merchantmen in tow. Ferryboats plied back and forth to Staten Island. Young boys dived for pennies from the seawall. Beggars worked the crowds along with prostitutes.
A brisk wind kicked up the whitecaps in the harbor and the crowds gathered along the East River and Battery grew in size in eager anticipation of the Flying Cloud's departure, which the newspaper had been playing up all week. The stevedores had already brought the huge ice blocks aboard and stowed them 'tween decks on sawdust in the icehouse, along with all the perishable provisions.
Sundays and Mondays were deemed as the most auspicious sailing days by superstitious sailors, a fact not lost on the Creesys that Sunday morning.
While Captain Creesy tended to last minute preparations, Ellen arranged their belongings in their cabin and unpacked the sextant and chronometers and put them in a secure place.
Soon, a harbor pilot came aboard and at two p.m. Captain Creesy gave the order to his first mate to cast off the lines. A tug took the Flying Cloud's bow hawser and proceeded to chug down the river, with the Flying Cloud in tow, to the cheers of hundreds gathered along the waterfront, and proceeded down to Battery Point, where the Flying Cloud anchored for the night.
On Monday morning, June 2, 1851, at eleven o'clock, the twelve passengers arrived at Pier 19 at the foot of Maiden Lane and boarded the steam launch Achilles, that soon proceeded down the East River to Battery Point, where the Flying Cloud lay anchored awaiting her passengers and crew. Captain Creesy gave a sharp eye to his pocket watch, the tide, and the wind, as the passengers came aboard, and soon they had the last of their carry-on luggage stowed away securely in their staterooms.
With the pilot aboard, Creesy determined that the ebb tides and the winds were right and gave the order to depart at two o'clock in the afternoon. The crew hoisted anchor, sails were swiftly set, and the Flying Cloud caught the ebb tide and southwesterly breezes out to Sandy Hook, where the pilot was discharged at 7 p.m. and returned to the harbor in his pilot boat.
The Flying Cloud then caught the winds out into the North Atlantic, bound for Cape Horn.
The following article appeared in the June 4, 1851 edition of the New York Tribune:
We find it impossible to give any description of her as she passed down the bay Monday and went dancing into the broad Atlantic. There was a stiff, steady wind, and the beautiful vessel, almost hid by the cloud of canvas which she spread, seemed to glide through the waters as smoothly as the Reindeer and the New World cleave the waters of the Hudson.
Fair winds blew for the next three days and Creesy took advantage of them to personally train his crew. Recruiters from Grinnell & Minturn had been able to provide a few able-bodied seamen, known as "A.B.'s." There were a number of ordinary sailors and the rest were a mixed crew of landlubbers trying to get to the gold fields and derelicts provided by the crimps. Captain Creesy was a hard man to please and was not at all happy with his first mate, and right from the start thought that the man was a malingerer. Fortunately there were several first-rate mechanics aboard among the officers and crew.
The lessons began with the total familiarization of the 130 lines that converged along the pinrails and ran up to all three masts. A sailor had to be able to find the correct one on a pitching deck in the dark and the wrong choice of line could lead to disaster. Novice sailors also had to learn to climb up the rigging to work in the yards. Teamwork was paramount to the successful working of a ship. The A.B.'s led the way aloft and were gingerly followed by the others, each new man instructed not to look down as they were instructed in the proper way to move up the ratlines through the rigging and out on the yardarms to handle the sails. From up high, the Flying Cloud's hull looked slim and the first time sailor would often freeze in terror with his first look down. They were then urged on by the A.B.'s and taught the tasks expected of them, all the while securing their footing and steadying themselves with each roll of the ship.
From the deck, Captain Creesy shouted out the commands and the men on the yards learned to untie the gaskets and let the cotton duck sails fall free. The cringles at the bottom end of each sail were hauled in. Soon, the breeze filled the sails as the Flying Cloud speed on.
The first climb aloft was always a terrifying experience. Each man slowly climbed down the rigging shaking with fear and wishing that he would never be called upon to do it again. But slowly the reality of the tasks expected of him began to set in with the realization that he would be called to go aloft as often as necessary; for the safety of his ship for the remainder of the voyage, and that he had better get used to it, or else face the wrath of his captain.
All manner of sailing maneuvers and procedures were gone over time and time again, with particular attention paid to the complicated procedure of tacking, which for a square-rigged ship required much skill and teamwork and split-second timing. The training took place, fortunately, in moderate winds over the next few days.
The ship would catch the most favorable slant of the winds to pick up momentum, before the Captain would call out "Hard a-lee!" and the helmsman would spin the wheel away from the wind to leeward and swing around into the wind. Quickly, the lines to her stay sails, jibs, and fore-and-aft sails, that caught the winds on the windward side, were cast loose, along with her fore top sail, as they came head-on to the wind and trimmed to the wind on the leeward side. If the proper momentum was achieved, the ship would swing around as the fore-and-aft jibs and staysails were hastily sheeted in. This helped to move her bow about where she would begin her new tack; ready to catch the winds from the new direction and on the command of "Mainsail haul!", all aboard would haul up on the lee braces yanking up the Flying Cloud's big mainsail, which soon caught the winds on her new tack.
Everything had to be done with split-second precision and timing, or else the ship would be driven back to her original tack and the entire procedure would have to be repeated over again. A failed procedure in heavy seas could lead to disaster. Captain Creesy tutored them over and over until he was satisfied with their progress. It was important that they learn how to work together as a crew before encountering the treacherous seas they would soon encounter when they approached Cape Horn. Where they would get the chance to prove their worth.
The Flying Cloud was but three days out flying a full array of canvas on a bright sunny gusty afternoon on her dash west-south-west out into the North Atlantic to the 40th parallel. A northwesterly gale was picking up and began to blow down on the lofty clipper as she knifed her way through stormy seas. The hard blow of the winds kept the passengers below deck in their staterooms for most of the day. Some of them chose to amuse themselves in the great cabin to pass the time until the dinner hour and had scarcely sat down to their meal when disaster struck.
Suddenly, there came a crackling sound of snapping stays aloft. The ship's main topgallant mast came crashing, down taking with it the mizzen topgallant pole; toppling over the side of the upper yards in a tangled dangling clump of splintered masts, spars, sails, and stays, one hundred feet up; suspended from the rigging and banging into the main mast with every roll of the ship.
The commotion of crashing rigging and shouting men up on deck echoed down and the shocked passengers all looked to their Captain. Creesy gave them all a worried look and told them to stay below while he swiftly made his way up the companionway stairs to the deck to find out what sort of disaster had befallen his ship and was soon gazing aloft to assess the damage.
It was swiftly determined that the hard blow had found a failure in the upper rigging, but the lower masts, yards, sails, and rigging were still untouched. They would have to work fast to get the tangled masts and yards lowered down to the deck before the swinging wreckage damaged the lower sails. Creesy hollered off his orders to the crew.
First, to the helmsman to steer the Flying Cloud downwind, and then to all his sailors and sent them scurrying up the ratlines to untangle the mess. With great effort, the determined crew lowered the broken masts and yards down to the deck. Creesy continued yelling up to the men not to be too free with their knives and to cut the rigging only when necessary. The 74-foot topsail yard was the last thing to be lowered down from 70 feet aloft. It weighed over two tons, and with great care the crew gingerly lowered it carefully down to the deck.
Creesy surveyed the splintered spars and determined that most of them could go up again, although the topsail yard now became a main topgallant pole mast and was soon hoisted to its new position at the mount while workman drove home the fid. Now, the mast was ready for the standing rigging with the running rigging soon to follow.
Dismastings at sea were nothing new to Captain Creesy and soon he had an ongoing salvage operation going on, as the Flying Cloud proceeded on her course under reduced sail while his crew went about repairing the rigging.
Within 48 hours, the main and mizzen topgallant masts were back in place and all sails set and the Flying Cloud proceed to sail on down the Atlantic picking up her speed again under new wings. Her passengers had witnessed a fine show of seamanship and congratulated the crew for a job well done. The crew had come together at a time of peril and took pride it setting things right with the ship.
Creesy was proud of his crew and let them know it. A measure of grog was ordered by the captain to be measured out that Saturday night to the crew, along with a rare treat of their Sunday duff. Creesy was most thankful that this dismasting had not forced him to take the Flying Cloud under jury-rig to Rio de Janeiro for needed repairs, like so many other less fortunate clippers were forced to do, thus blowing their chances for a record run around the Horn.
For the next three days the southerly winds blew the Flying Cloud along out to the 40th parallel, where on June 11th, Ellen charted a new course due south in the run for the equator.
As the Flying Cloud entered into the horse latitudes, Creesy discovered that the toppling main gallant mast had split the lower mast where they were joined at the hounds and weakened the entire structure. Creesy had the splintered section strapped down as best he could and kept the Flying Cloud on course and she soon passed on through a series of squalls and on into the doldrums. Creesy complained in his log: "Calm. Calm. Calm." He often whistled for the wind.
It was now Eleanor Creesy's turn to guide the Flying Cloud on through the doldrums. She did so in less than four days after consulting Maury's Wind and Current Charts.
The calm belts of the sea, like mountains on the land, stand mightily in the way of the voyager, but, like the mountains on the land, they have their passes and their gaps.
Methodically, Ellen charted the Flying Cloud's progress across a part of the ocean she and her husband had never sailed before, as they ran for the equator at a southeast slant out to the 30th parallel right above the equator taking Maury's advise to heart.
The Flying Cloud picked up the southeast trade winds by June 24th, and two days later the ship was tacking on a temporary slant to the northeast in an effort to round Cape de São Roque, the Brazilian coast that jutted out into the South Atlantic. Ellen plotted each tack, carefully paying close attention to Maury's recommendations, that proved to be right on the mark.
The Flying Cloud sailed close to the Brazilian coast to find the favorable winds and currents as Creesy noted in his log entry on July 3rd, "Land in sight all day," all the while keeping a sharp lookout for shoals and taking soundings all along the way.
Once past the treacherous sandbanks of the cape, the Flying Cloud caught the light easterly winds to the south, free at last to find her wings as Creesy piled on the canvas, all the while keeping a sharp eye to the weather as they sailed on down the South American coast.
On July 8th, the Flying Cloud ran into a fierce storm that swept down from the Andes and the accompanying thunderstorms, squalls, and gales lasted four days. Creesy faced the storm with shortened sail but soon her staysails shredded away to ribbons. Water was coming over the lee rail and her weakened mainmast creaked.
Alarmed, Creesy sent men aloft to take down the Cloud's main royal and topgallant spars, which greatly relieved the pressure on the main mast. All the while, he was keeping an eye on a brig off to the east in distress that had lost her top-hamper and had disappeared over the horizon. He was too busy with his own problems to offer any assistance.
Sporadic gales out of the southwest blew through the night of July 11th and on through the morning, as the Flying Cloud plunged on through towering seas, as sheets of water sloshed across the deck. Only a couple of reefed topsails flew aloft, just enough sail to keep the ship under control as the leerail drew perilously close to going under. By mid afternoon, the ship's carpenter discovered that the forecastle was flooding.
Upon investigation, it was deduced that a stopper for the entry for the anchor cable had been knocked loose over the course of the storm since it was below the surface on the leeward side as the Cloud tacked directly to the south. So Creesy fell off to tack eastward for a while and ran before the wind. The keel then leveled off as the hawsehole came above the surface of the water. Now it could be checked out. The carpenter found this to be the case and soon replaced the stopper, but the water kept coming in and steadily gained on the pumps.
The sight of all the water below began unnerving one of the sailors and he reported a shipmate that he suspected had drilled a hole in the hull. The determined carpenter sloshed his way through the flooded forecastle and found the leak under a bunk that had been on the leeward side over the course of the previous tack. Two holes had been bored close together through the thick planking to make an opening almost four inches across and the sea water had come pouring in as the ship was on her leeward tack to the south. Now on a tack to the eastward, the carpenter was able to patch up the hole and reported his findings to the captain.
Immediately, Creesy ordered the ship back on its southbound tack, and soon an investigation was underway to find the guilty party. It was determined that two men had used an auger and a marlinspike. One man bore the holes under his bunk with the auger and the second man had used the marlinspike and joined the two holes. One of his shipmates had seen the first man leave the forecastle with the auger in his hand and had turned him in.
The two men had been worried about the sprung mast and had hoped that the captain would put into Rio to attend to the problem. When they discovered that their captain had no intention of doing so, they had decided to drill their holes, thus giving their captain no choice other than to put into Rio. At which point both men planned to jump ship. Instead, they were placed in irons with Creesy releasing them only long enough the following day to assist in the cleaning up of the wreckage following the storm.
On July 13th, the Flying Cloud was south of Rio on a southern tack running straight for Cape Horn.
On board the Flying Cloud on her maiden voyage around the Horn, was Sarah H. Bowman, who wrote the following ongoing letter to her sister, Kate, which is a splendid running commentary of the voyage.
EX FLYING CLOUD: A PERSONEL ACCOUNT OF THE JOURNEY
At Sea June 1851
Dear Kate:
The Flying Cloud is just passing the Equator. Pearl, Eddie and myself, together with the other passengers, have been on deck watching the lovely sunset. Long before rich colors faded from the clouds, the stars were out and our gaze was turned toward the southern cross. Ah! How strange it all seems. We are now going at the rate of eleven knots an hour, which Hartwell well knows is great speed at this latitude; we have been becalmed three days, the heat most intense; you can realize how we all are rejoicing in this fair wind. Such is the size of this ship the motion is scarcely perceptible. We have been only a few days seasick; this evening all are well and in fine spirits.
Mrs. Graham, a lady from New York occupies the stateroom opposite mine. She is extremely pretty, kind, and obliging, but reads yellow covered books with great relish. She is only twenty-three. Her husband has been in California three years; has been successful, and she expects to remain in that country. Mrs. Creesy, the Captain's lady, is a very social, gentle, kind-hearted women. I like her very much. The Captain is a most excellent officer, but is said to be brusque and tyrannical to the sailors. That is enough, if true, to condemn him. Two young ladies from Roxbury Mass., Sarah and Ellen Lyon and their brother are going to the Sandwich Islands. Both homely, homelike companionable girls, who read the Young Ladies Friend with serious faces, the brother meanwhile retailing stale puns and jokes, passing them off As his own. Francesco Wadsworth, a young, graceful, handsome, Italian from New York, who dances the polka and reads questionable French novels part of each day, sing snatches from Italian Operas in a rich mellow voice and playing the gallant and agreeable to each of us the rest of the time.
Mr. Coffin from Baltimore, a finished, traveling gentleman, well bread, (sic) well read, posted up on every subject, fine looking to boot, traveling for pleasure, has passed the Horn thirteen times, where he has become acquainted with my friend Judge Heydenfelt. He entertains me highly with pleasing reminiscences of travel and plays chess with the Captain.
A young merry faced fellow from New York, J. D. Townsend, is going the whole voyage to China, round the world, only think of it. Just for pleasure; claims to be a nephew of Albert Lawrence. He is not quite twenty; talks big of his fast horses, etc., drinks claret, champagne and cherry bounce as if he loves it; says Eddie is the smartest boy he ever saw. He is now with him on deck shouting Uncle Ned at the top of his voice. He sings, "I wish I were a boy again." capitally. Still I often wish it was a familiar voice I was listening to. I sometimes feel like a "lovelorn women" who things have gone contrary to. We have spoken a French ship, caught a shark, seen lots of flying fish, watch the little Portuguese Men of War go gaily past with their sails of purple gossamer; whales and dolphins we have yet to see. The Captain hopes to speak a ship bound for the United States so as you perceive I am jotting these things down hastily, that I may have something like a letter ready. You don't know how odd it seems of a morning when comfortably seated in my rocking chair on deck, gazing over the broad ocean, to hear roosters crowing, hens cackling, turkeys gobbling, pigs grunting and lambs bleating. There is an immense amount of livestock aboard, and our ice house is well stocked with fresh provisions, so no danger but we shall fare well enough, let the voyage be so long. We number, sailors and all, seventy-eight, quite a village. We had been but a fortnight out when we lost our main and mizzen to'gallant mast and discovered that our main mast was sprung. It is a pity of course it will not do to crowd on sail and we cannot make the voyage so soon as we otherwise should; besides the Capt. fears we may lose the mast in passing the dreaded "World's Corner" Cape Horn. I find I am the only coward among the company, isn't that too bad? Mrs. C. has been to China several times but never drempt (sic) of being afraid. Oh dear! Well I can't help it; I don't feel safe at sea. We have first rate steward and cabin boy, the latter a chinaman, named Ching, a perfect character; he amuses me much with his broken English. I am going to take his likeness and will send it to you some day if the mermaids don't get it. I have made three elaborate drawings; one from Scott of Melrose Abbey; another of Bernard Castle. The time passes quickly. Oh how I would like the daily papers. I want to know what is going on in Boston and vicinity. I want to see all the folks at Whitman's the Silsbys and hosts of others that I shall always remember so pleasantly. Shall I ever see their faces again? Yes, I believe so.
The Fourth of July: Willie Hall chosen the orator of the day. Behold us all on the clean deck dressed in our very gayest, gents and ladies with their faces beaming gladly; all determined to be happy. This bell rings for dinner. We descend to the richly furnished cabin. I must name the goodies that crowd our tables. Roast turkey and chickens with oyster sauce, roast pig, boiled ham, all kinds of vegetables, English plum pudding tarts, Blanc Mange, walnuts, filberts, almonds, raisons, oranges, apples, champagne, Madeira in abundance. Then came the toasts, some very good, but scarcely worth repeating. I hasten to give the lines composed by Willie for the occasion-you may be sure the poet was applauded and toasted again and again, but he wore his honors meekly. We spent the evening on deck, singing and telling stories. I must admit it was a merry and happy day, tho' on the great deep. We are continually seeing ships but they are going the same way as ourselves, bound for La Platte or Valparaiso. The Captains exchange a few words and wish each other success. We then shoot ahead and in a few hours not even the top of their proud masts are seen. The Captain nor anyone on board ever knew as fast a sailor as our proud Flying Cloud. I have read so much of the Rio that I was almost sorry we were not obliged to go in there, but we flew by on the wings of the winds. Ah me! How I long for the shady trees and the songs of the birds. Mrs. Creesy tells with what delight she has treasured a blade of grass. I can believe her. I wish you could see Mrs. C. such glorious eyes I never saw, large liquid and hazel soft as a gazelle's and always beaming with kindness on someone. I love her dearly. Today I painted a Moss rosebud. You may be sure I did it my best. This morning you should have heard an exclamation of delight at a lovely rainbow reflected vividly in the water. Imagine if you can the immense circle, brilliant, glowing. How we wished Kate and Mira and all friends to behold it with us. Not withstanding the monotony of this ocean life, many, many is the time that I wish you present to watch the towering crested waves follow each other, dashing the white spray against the vessel, or with us to enjoy the beauties of the tropical sunsets, but we are fast approaching a cold and gloomy region. I have no words to express the fear I have of passing the Horn. I try to banish all thoughts of it by pleasant conversations with Willie whose talk is as interesting As any book. A perfect Jean Paul I call him. His time is much occupied in writing a certain "Record of Impressions" which it is quite probably you will some day see. He can, if he will, acquire fame as a writer and I shall be much disappointed if he does not have published this work which eagerly I peruse in as he advances.
As you will perceive, I am very blue this morning (Blue Ink). we are off La Platte and have encountered a severe gale, the worst is now over but the remark from the Captain that this is but a taste of what we will get off the Cape sets me shaking with terror. I have been playing sick and kept to my stateroom the two last days ashamed to have them all know how frightened I was, like with what a remorseless sound the immense waves strike our proud ship, making furious but vain efforts to overwhelm us. To crown the whole, W. read me Melville's account of passing the Horn. You will find it in white jacket. You will not wonder at my dread. Eddie was a great deal alarmed and wished many times that he had remained ashore with aunt Kate. We talk about you every day and Ed carries your miniature about with him. I hope you received the little present he sent from New York to you and Mrs. Hall. That lovely ride to Monument Mountain and the delightful scenery along the Hudson I shall never forget; how much you would have enjoyed it. Then too, those superb paintings at the Dusseldorf Gallery. You must see them especially the martyrdom of Hesse. How many times we wished Kate with us. While at the Astor Hotel Eddie made the acquaintance of a Mr. Delvan, a great temperance man. He manifested great interest in E. and visited the ship with us and advised us which room to select near the center, as being steadier; on the day we sailed from New York we found in Ned's berth a large elegantly bound Temperance offering "Edward C. Delevan of Ballston Center, New York to his young friend Edward C. Bowman." No really that was quite a pleasant incident, wasn't it? Many of the best pieces are written by MR. Delevan. You know what an acquisition Eddie would consider it to his little library. While we were at the Howard, Jenny Lind gave us a concert at Castle Garden. I gave Eddie a dollar in order to go but he bought Pilgrims Progress instead. I was so surprised at his choice. When at the Delevan House, Albany, (so named in honor of our new friend) I made the acquaintance of Mrs. Wiley, one of the most social little women I ever met. She introduced herself to me when she found I was going to California; as her husband is in Happy Valley, about a mile from San Francisco and she is going out by way of the Isthmus. I shall be delighted to meet her there, maybe I shall see the mermaids instead. Our handsome Italian speaks French fluently as I speak English and very kindly gives Eddie a lesson every day. We smile at some of his stories. Can't believe too many of them, especially about being introduced to the Duke of Wellington, having a cozy little tete a tete with Louis Phillipe, being presented to Queen Victoria, visiting Eugene Sue at his splendid villa, etc., etc., not to mention his having a servant killed while traveling in Italy and also having fought two duels, though as Willie says, failing to exhibit any scars. He also lost two diamond pins since he has been aboard, but never mentioned it until we were admiring one which Mr. Coffin wears. So foolish to tell such silly lies. He constantly reminds me of a certain person at W.
The Captain is an able seaman no doubt, but I will not wrong my conscience by calling him a gentleman. He is overbearing and jealous of every attention bestowed by the passengers upon the mate. He is at this moment saying "In '38 I was in the Java Straits" but I won't listen for the other day I almost laughed in his face on his describing a cave he had seen, "most splendid all being hung with putrifications." I don't think Mr. Lyon improved upon it much when speaking of that wonderful cave at Capri as being covered with "chrysalis," true upon my word. W. was on deck and heard it as well as myself. Little Pearl shares his stateroom. Only think of her sharing a den with such a lyon. Eddie is on deck most of his time, conversing with the second mate (Mr. Smith) a very intelligent man who seems very fond of Eddie. He was with Wilkes in his famous South Sea expedition and of course has many stories of his exciting adventures by land and sea. All the sailors like to have Eddie for'rd and he declared that none of them use foul or vulgar language before him so I allow him to go. You would smile at his collection of precious things, tarred rope, balls of twine, wings of flying fish, lignum vitae blocks, whales tooth, a sharks jaw, a leather strip with sheath for a knife such as all sailors wear, sail makers needles, marlin spike made from elephants tooth, pieces of tortoise shell, and mother of pearl, all of which relics are of untold value in his eyes. He has been up aloft repeatedly and knows every rope on the ship, tell(s) of seeing land on the larboard bow, etc., etc. There seems a charm to him in everything about a sailor, wears nearly all his shirts outside his pants, affects even their careless, swaggering gait and you may be sure sings all their songs, one of which ends "clear the way, let the Flying Cloud come."
There are sad complaints of hard fare. Many a cake I have smuggled from the table and given to the men at the wheel when the mates are not looking. Ed feeds the men up whenever he can. It gives me more satisfaction than anything else to meet the grateful pleased faces of the sailors. They are all friends to me. The Captain speaks of them as if they were dogs, I hate him cordially. Every man of them will leave at San Francisco and by so doing you know they forfeit their pay (except a month allowed in advance.) Even the second mate and third mate will not make the entire voyage, they consider the Captain so mean. However matters may be exaggerated. I hope so in all events. Mrs. Gorham and Townsend have got up a flirtation. Well I should judge it might be a pleasant way to pass off the long evening. She is always most tastefully dressed. In fact, her Irish maid says she puts on her back the top of her trunk. She is always sailing gracious to everyone. Her husband is twenty years older than herself. She married at fourteen, never had any children and does not hesitate to tell me that she never had any feeling other than respect for Mr. G. Ellen M. is engaged to Mr. Bois, a young lawyer in Oregon. She is delighted with the idea of living there. How strange these short, dark days seem, the sun only mounts a few degrees above the horizon. Lamps are lighted soon after three in the cabin. We all gather around a stove and have pleasant chats about different places we each have visited. The weather is much warmer than I anticipated. We are at this moment passing the straits of La Maire. Now we are gazing at the land on both sides, cold snow tipped cliffs rise barren, forbidding, and abrupt from the sea. Little charm has such land for me. Green turf overshadowed by graceful elms, like those at Beaumont Villa. Ah! The tears will come when I remember the fruits and flowers, and shade trees and bird notes, we enjoy there. The all too pleasant walks you are having in the warm moonlight, or sitting in your cozy room, the heliotropes, and roses that Curtis gave you all in blossom. I certainly am homesick for I can't stop crying. I want to see Charlie Bowman. The time very long since I have had a letter and I am imagining all sorts of gloomy things.
July 22. Now Kate I know you will rejoice with me for we have passed Cape Horn. I have been on deck all morning making a sketch which I will send. Contrary to all expectations the weather was mild, a steady ten knot breeze wafted us safely by. All hands were gay and I was never so happy in my life. We were about six miles distant but the jagged, and stormy point seemed much nearer. We had no ice al all, only a little hail and snow, none of which was visible when morning dawned. The sun shone more brilliantly than it had for several days before. The Captain said that we should not have had such luck once in 500 times. Mr. Ward Townsend made drawings as did Willie. W's was much the best, I think better than my own, but the Captain had done me the honor to request a copy of mine, which of course I shall give him tho I cannot grant him a favor with so good grace as I could that best woman in the world, his wife. Terra del Fuego, I little thought, say five years ago, ever to be looking upon its desolate, frozen shores. In the distance that snowy mountains and frost covered rocks look like turreted, castle forts and battlements, a soft, blue haze descends and gives really a charm to the scene. Occasionally a stern dark rock rises abruptly from the ocean in strange contrast with the snowy background. I am glad to have seen all this, shall sleep better tonight as usual.
* * * * *
On July 22nd, the Flying Cloud approached the Strait of Le Maire and ran head-on into a heavy gale accompanied with rain and sleet, and Captain Creesy was forced to bear off and wait out the storm. Off the starboard bow, Creesy spotted Cape San Diego fifteen miles away just before the storm got worse. The Strait of Le Marie, while treacherous in foul weather, offered a shorter passage to Cape Horn, so Creesy tacked back and forth, east to west, through the night as Ellen consulted her charts, along with Maury's Sailing Directions, and fixed the ship's position. She also figured out where she wanted the Flying Cloud to be the next day and navigated a course to take through the night that would position them near the entrance of the strait in the morning.
In the early hours of July 23rd, the storm petered out and the clouds had lifted by 6 a.m. The entrance of the Strait Le Maire lay dead ahead of them and Cape San Diego was off to starboard ten miles away and the crosscurrents and tide were running in their favor. Creesy immediately called for more sail for the fore and mizzen spars, but he had already taken down the mainmast's upper yards because of the mast's weakened condition. Fearing that the stress might be too much if they ran into any screaming westerlies, he would take the Flying Cloud around the Horn before returning the upper yards to their proper place.
The Flying Cloud ran through the strait in 12 hours, most excellent time, and soon entered the open sea running through the head tide currents south of Cape Horn. Under clear skies, Perkins decided to take a chance and tack for the northeast that would bring them close to land, rather then tacking to the southwest, in hopes of catching more favorable winds. Off the starboard bow, Perkins saw off in the distance the rocks and the snowy cliffs of Cape Horn that crashed down into the sea and could well imagine the heavy rollers smashing up against the rocks.
The Flying Cloud was 50 days out of New York that July 23rd, as Perkins noted in his log: "Cape Horn N 5 miles at 8 A.M., the whole coast covered with snow-wild ducks numerous."
The clipper tacked again and made for the open sea and soon encountered a series of snow squalls. Suddenly, the screaming westerlies tapered off and the cycle reversed, just like Maury said it occasionally would, and now the easterlies came on and filled the sails of the Flying Cloud and she raced around the Horn to the Pacific, never going below 56° 04' south latitude. The westerlies did not return until July 26th. The Flying Cloud had only taken seven days to make it from "Fifty to Fifty," from 50° south latitude in the Atlantic to 50° south latitude in the Pacific and set the record. On July 27th, Creesy "set all possible sail" and caught the stiff breezes up the Pacific Coast of South America, bound for California in bursts of amazing speed.
The steady northeasterly winds swung around on July 31st and filled the Flying Cloud's sails from the southeast. Perkins noted in his log:
July 31.--Fresh breezes and fine weather. All sails set. At 2 P.M., wind south-east. At 6 squally, in lower and topgallant studding sails. 7 P.M., in royals. 2 A.M., in foretopmast studdingsail. Later part strong gales and high sea running, ship very wet fore and aft. Distance run this day, 374 miles. During the squalls 18 knots of line was not sufficient to measure the rate of speed. Topgallant sails set.
The Flying Cloud, by Ellen's calculations taken that evening, had sailed faster and farther that day than any other ship in the world up to then. The Creesys were most jubilant that night.
Gale force winds forced Captain Creesy to reef down his foretopsails and mizzentop sails for a while, but they soon went up again and the Flying Cloud ran unleashed to the north, catching the powerful steady winds from the east-southeast. The sailors were able to relax on deck and take in the sun during their free time as the helmsman steered a steady course.
The only problem that Creesy had to deal with was that of his First Mate Thomas Austin whom he still had pegged as a shirker. Creesy solved his problem by suspending his First Mate from duty. His log notes of August 3rd spelled it out:
August 3.--Suspended first officer from duty, in consequence of his arrogating to himself the privilege of cutting up rigging contrary to my orders, and long continued neglect of duty.
On August 4th, the cape pigeons that had been following the Flying Cloud for the past month departed as the ship approached the tropics. Soon, the Flying Cloud encountered flying fish, porpoises, and a wide assortment of tropical birds that accompanied the ship as she crossed the equator on August 12th "at 4 p.m. 71 days 1 1/2 hours from N.Y., 20 days, 7 1/2 hours from C. Horn."
The next 12 days were glorious and Creesy repeatedly wrote "Fine Weather" in his log. The 13th day was unlucky for the Flying Cloud with "fine at intervals" and "Light squalls of rain" recorded in the log. But the squalls out of the southeast filled the clipper's sails and pulled her across the equator through the calm belt of the doldrums in good time. Creesy kept his crew busy aloft with all his frequent tacking in his efforts to catch every puff of wind.
Soon, the winds shifted again and came out of the northeast. The winds steadily increased sending the Flying Cloud roaring to the north over the next two weeks on a course that Ellen had carefully plotted following the advise of Maury's Sailing Directions. She had taken the Flying Cloud on a steady course far out to sea some 1300 miles west off the California coast, where Maury said they would find the winds they so eagerly sought. As they crossed the latitude parallel with Santa Barbara on August 24th, the Flying Cloud began an easterly tack for the Golden Gate.
The spirits of all aboard were high with thoughts of San Francisco and lasted as long as the winds, which unfortunately began to drop off and soon completely died leaving the Flying Cloud to ghost along as best she could.
To escape the calm, Creesy sought to bring the yards around from the deck by hauling on the braces. They were so distracted that they did not even see at first the barque Amelia Paquet as she slowly approached. The passengers of the British barque lined the rail to marvel at the spectacle of an American clipper ship with her figurehead of an angel holding a trumpet leading the way.
The two captains had time to lift their speaker trumpets and exchange hails. Those aboard the Flying Cloud heard that the Amelia Paquet was 180 days out of London. The Amelia Paquet passengers were astonished to hear that the Flying Cloud was only 84 days out of New York. No one aboard the Amelia Paquet ever forgot the sight of the Flying Cloud. For when the late afternoon winds finally came, the clipper soon overhauled them and flew on past with her skysails set, flying the red, white, and blue swallowtail house flag from her raking mast as she knifed her way through the waves. Eventually, the Yankee clipper disappeared on the eastern horizon.
Around this time, passenger Laban Coffin found himself confronted with a dire predicament and dealt with it in a unique way, as the following passage will attest:
Laban was challenged to a duel by another passenger. The challenge arose out of their rivalry for the attention of Sarah. The Flying Cloud carried chicken coops to supply fresh meat for the voyage which were, in fair weather, slung outboard over the gun'ls. Every time the ship crested a heavy sea the chickens would stick their necks out between the slats. Laban was reluctant to fight the duel but love and honor prevented him from backing out. He therefore resolved to intimidate his rival by demonstrating his marksmanship. He would ask the cook how many chickens he needed for supper and then with deadly accuracy shoot their heads off as the ship went into the trough of the sea and the chicks stuck their necks out. The rival, not being willing to stick his neck out, soon reneged and, presumably, stayed in his cabin for the remainder of the voyage.
On August 27th, Creesy had found the "fresh breezes" again, along with some squalls that sent the Flying Cloud romping along with all sails flying, with Creesy now anticipating that he was going to set the record for the San Francisco run. The winds were gusty on August 29th and the topgallant mast toppled over, but despite the "heavy squalls with high sea," Creesy swiftly cut away the wreckage and reset the topgallant mast in 24 hours. He would not be denied his record.
The Flying Cloud continued to the north, pushed on by the squalls along the California coast. Over the nighttime early hours of August 31st, Ellen calculated that there was a danger that they might run right past the Golden Gate in the predawn darkness and told her husband to hove too till daylight.
In the early hours of morning, they were in the vicinity of South Farallon Island, and within an hour a pilot boat arrived alongside to escort the Flying Cloud through the Golden Gate for a record voyage of 89 days, 21 hours. They had eclipsed a week off the previous record of 96 days, 21 hours set by the Surprise on March 19, 1851.
The three-month barrier was shattered and the San Francisco waterfront went wild with excitement. Creesy was strangely low key about his accomplishment, recording in his log: "Came to anchor in five fathoms water off North Beach San Francisco Harbor."
On top of nearby Telegraph Hill, there was a two-story house with a tower extended from the roof that housed a semaphore that signaled the arrival at the Golden Gate of every approaching vessel to the harbor along with its class. Whenever a clipper arrived from the East, swarms of small boats soon converged upon the ship from shore, all the runners aboard the boats most eager to lure the sailors off to the saloons, gambling halls, and bordellos of the city. Anxious auctioneers and traders would shout out inquiries to the officers on deck as to the cargo in the hold in hopes of acquiring merchandise that had been scarce in the city as of late to sell at a profit.
The Flying Cloud's arrival caused quite a stir among San Franciscans, even though many clippers, over 100, had come and gone over the summer and 100 more were expected over September and October. It was a Sunday and great crowds of people gathered throughout North Beach to take in a glimpse of the Flying Cloud and to marvel at this latest wonder of the American shipping world that had come around the Horn and was now anchored in the bay. Many in the crowds were anxious to hear the latest news from the East.
The following day, September 1st, the Alto California called the Flying Cloud a "skimmer of the seas." On that day the pilot, Edward Palmer, a member of the Opposition Pilots, brought the Flying Cloud around Telegraph Hill to Cunningham's Wharf "from the sea to her moorings," at the foot of Vallejo and Green Streets. He moored the Flying Cloud to the 375 foot wharf north of Yerba Buena Cove for a charge of $160 that was figured by her twenty foot draught at $8 per foot. Another fee was paid to the Harbor Master, George Simpton, that was figured out by a tonnage rate of 4¢ per ton computed out to $71.35 as the Flying Cloud's registered tonnage was 1783 tons.
Upon departing the Flying Cloud in San Francisco, Sarah Bowman wrote her sister the following letter:
San Francisco
September 1. We arrived here yesterday in fine health and spirits. Found Charlie well and oh so happy to see us. Everyone here is talking about our passage, the quickest ever known, 89 days, 20 hours. I have a fine suite of rooms, the parlors and our chambers, very elegantly furnished. Charles has three stores, one of them very large, is more than satisfied with his success, notwithstanding his loss by fire in May which was great. David is well content etc. and making money fast. I am sorry to close so abruptly but I have no time. Caddie T. is fine and having a great time flirting with all the gents. I see many familiar faces, on the whole am better pleased with the city than I expected to be. Will write you at length when I see more of it. Eddie has written you a letter too long to send with this. I hope you will excuse me for preferring to send my own.
Your affectionate sister,
Sarah H. Bowman
Captain Creesy called upon S. Griffitts Morgan, the agent for Grinnell, Minturn & Company, to arrange for the discharge of the Flying Cloud's cargo at Cunningham's Wharf. Morgan hailed from New Bedford, Massachusetts, and was a friend and partner of Francis S. Hathaway, also of New Bedford, who owned a one-eighth-share of the Flying Cloud, and the two had consigned a considerable quantity of merchandise aboard the clipper.
Despite the auger holes incident off the coast of Argentina, most of the Flying Cloud's cargo was hauled off in excellent condition. Some seawater had leaked into the stocks of whiskey and brandy and a consignment of steel shovels was damaged.
For the next two months, the local newspapers advertised the merchandise from the Flying Cloud, along with that of the N.B. Palmer, that had arrived from New York ten days earlier, after a passage of 108 days.
One item of the Flying Cloud's merchandise of considerable interest was the consignment of butter that Hathaway and Morgan had shipped around the Horn and was mentioned in the September 15th edition of the California Courier:
We never fully realized the wonderful rapidity of the Flying Cloud until yesterday. Happening in at Turnbull & Walton's corner of Sansome and Jackson Streets in San Francisco, we saw a consignment of spring butter, from the well known dairy of A. Vandyke of Roxbury, N.Y. It is not only as sweet as a nut, but has the same delicious flavor that marks fresh butter from the hands of the milkmaid. Just think of eating butter in San Francisco on the heel of summer, that was made in New York in May, and you will feel that the Flying Cloud has indeed "walked the waters like a thing of life.
William Eaton directed the gang of stevedores in the unloading of the Flying Cloud's cargo and the cleaning of her hold to make the ship ready to take on ballast for the passage across the Pacific. The Flying Cloud's sails were loosed and furled and her holds pumped dry and the exterior of the ship was repainted. The Lyons continued to live aboard the Flying Cloud while all this activity was going on.
Other exciting events were going on throughout the world as well around this same time. As the Flying Cloud was racing up the California Coast on the last leg of her historic voyage, the New York yacht America successfully challenged the cream of the British yachting fleet off the Isle of Wight. The Collins steamship liner Pacific was the first vessel to make a run to Liverpool in less than ten days. The day after the Flying Cloud's arrival in San Francisco, the first train traveled from New York to Albany over the new Hudson River Railroad in five hours; two hours faster than the river steamboats had ever covered the same distance.
* * * * *
On August 21st, the N. B. Palmer had arrived through the Golden Gate, ten days ahead of the Flying Cloud, and had anchored in the stream off the San Francisco piers. The Low's agents requested the towing of the "Palmer" over to the dock to discharge her cargo and the pilot refused to respond to Captain Low and the agents.
All the lessons learned from his life at sea would come into play as an impatient Captain Charles Porter Low in his REMINISCENCES recalls: ". . . assuming all responsibility, hove up the anchor, set all sails including skysails, and on the ebb tide, with a light beam" as the N. B. Palmer responded nimbly to her captain and crew's wishes and slowly moved in while backing the main yard and the giant clipper slowed down enough to glide alongside the wharf "with scarcely a jar."
It is said that "the assembled crowd cheered most hartily and the feat was long remembered as the prettiest piece of seamanship ever done in San Francisco."
Sarah Lyons, in letters to family back in Massachusetts, wrote of plans to stay put until Ellen's wedding took place aboard the Flying Cloud at the Creesys' request. Sarah wrote of Ellen’s plans for starting her new life with Reuben in Oregon, and of being "thronged with visitors ever since we arrived in port."
The two sisters went off on daily and evening excursions out past the big gates at the end of Cunningham's Wharf. Where the planks began that ran along the muddy streets in various stages of disrepair; all the way to Montgomery Street, with Sarah all the while taking notice of "some fine buildings, many going up" around her, many in just the past three months since the last fire swept through the city, the sixth fire in the past year and a half.
Through the smoldering ruins, the city moved eastward filling in the bay as progress moved along at a furious pace, often filling right around converted ships used for business and warehouse purposes. Additional wharves were under hasty construction and now jutted further out into the bay. Frame and canvas buildings were everywhere about, hastily erected structures to store and market the incoming cargoes of the then almost daily arriving clippers from the East. New buildings were erected on piles.
Very soon, Sarah observed, there would be little trace of the fires. She had found a "flourishing" city and took pleasure in riding the omnibus between Portsmouth Square and Mission Delores taking in the sights along the way. Besides the Jenny Lind Theatre, Sarah Lyons was most intrigued with the famous gambling saloons. Sarah described to her family in her letters home:
The women behind the tables and piles of gold before them and the most bewitching music, the saloons brilliantly lighted with Chandeliers and filled to overflowing with people.
The selection of dry goods the Lyon sisters encountered in the shops pleased them. Especially the "splendid China shawls and goods of every description." The San Franciscan shops were said by European travelers to have a "Parisian elegance" to them, "but such prices," wrote Sarah, as the two shopped around the city and made preparations for Ellen's wedding.
Lemuel Lyons came down from Oregon on September 9th, and soon presented Ellen with a wedding gift of "a whole piece" of fine cloth for her bridal gown and some for Sarah, too. It would soon come in handy.
Whitney left the ship often and went exploring about town while attending to his chores and errands. All the while, seemingly oblivious to the activities of the First Vigilante Committee's ongoing, though receding, efforts to quench the recent wave of anarchy and lawlessness, along with the fires that had so recently wrecked havoc upon the community.
But Whitney did get caught up in the excitement of the upcoming state election. He watched the organized torch light parade of Democrats marching about the city on election eve carrying signs praising their candidates while ridiculing their opponents; lead by politicians and dignitaries seated in a barouche four-wheeled carriage drawn by eight horses through the city.
Whitney did a lot of hiking and horseback riding over the road that made its way over the sand hills beyond Rincon Point and ran between the Presidio and Mission Dolores, and saw recently established settlements of houses with fenced in gardens here and there.
Soon after Lemuel's arrival in the city, Whitney fell ill with dysentery and was laid low for several days, only to recover enough by September 15th to help with the wedding plans.
Reuben P. Boise arrived from Portland, Oregon on September 15th, and two days later on Wednesday evening Ellen and Reuben were married aboard the Flying Cloud by the Reverend T.D. Hunt.
Reuben and Ellen went off to the Jones Hotel at the corner of California and Sansome Street the next day for a two-day honeymoon. The large wooden structure was a favorite about town known for its "very clean" bedrooms and bedding, and for its spacious balconies on every side of the building.
For two happy days, Ellen and Reuben took carriage rides about the city sightseeing and shopping. The now married couple then left for their new home in Oregon.
Whitney by this time was having second thoughts about his plans go to the Sandwich Islands and began to look for opportunities closer by for a means to earn a living.
Whitney soon found a position with Winn's Fountain Head. This was a large concern located on Commercial Street that combined a steam candy factory along with a bakery, refreshment saloon, and catering service. Whitney's starting wages were $100 a month, plus board and lodging and he started work on September 26th.
Sarah was soon to make use of the piece of fine cloth that Lemuel had given her the week before, because soon after Ellen and Reuben departed San Francisco, Laban Coffin proposed marriage to Sarah and she accepted. Now, she made plans for her wedding. Her father, though, would not be there, for he had already left aboard the John Cogswell for the Sandwich Islands on business.
Twelve stevedores came aboard the Flying Cloud October 1st to haul her off following the completion of dockside preparations and to moor her out in the stream where wharf charges could be saved. The Flying Cloud took on 437 tons of additional stone ballast, along with 3,000 gallons of water from Sausalito, and almost the same amount of water from the schooner Maryland.
On Saturday evening October 4th at eight o'clock, Sarah Lyons and Laban Coffin were married aboard the Flying Cloud by the Reverend Albert Williams of the First Presbyterian Church. Mrs. Creesy made the wedding cake that was said to be "very good." Wine and champagne were passed around and Whitney, the only other member of the Lyon family in attendance, toasted the future success of the newlyweds.
Laban placed a plain gold ring made of gold that he had dug himself, upon Sarah's finger. Laban promised to take Sarah on a voyage around the world.
All sorts of foodstuffs came aboard from the Empire and Oriental Markets. Washing was delivered from a Chinese Laundry. Barrels of whiskey and cherry brandy mash came aboard, along with hay and maize to feed the livestock aboard the ship.
Four special boxes of gold dust arrived aboard the Flying Cloud in accordance to
instructions. That the proceeds earned by the passage around the Horn of the Flying Cloud be invested in gold dust, with half consigned to Hong Kong and the rest to be shipped directly back across the Isthmus to New York.
On October 17th, the Flying Cloud cleared port. On the 18th, Whitney came aboard to see Sarah one last time and say good-bye to her and Laban, who now served aboard the Flying Cloud as First Officer.
Captain Creesy waited until the 19th, sailing day, before distributing advanced wages to the crew to make sure that they didn't run off with the money. The Flying Cloud's departure was noted in the October 20, 1851 edition of the Alta California:
The clipper ship Flying Cloud, Captain Creesy for China, got under way yesterday about 11 A.M. and went down in fine style after firing a salute. She is truly a noble and beautiful vessel under a press of canvas.
Word of the Flying Cloud's record breaking passage to San Francisco had reached New York aboard the Prometheus thirteen days earlier and South Street went wild. Grinnell, Minturn & Co., in a letter from F.S. Hathaway to S. Griffits Morgan stated that they were:
...most pleased to learn that the Flying Cloud has made so splendid a run and that you had already collected a large portion of the freight... We hope that no serious damage has been done to the goods in the 'tween decks by water let in by the crew and that you may be able to free the ship from liability...
The editors of the New York Commercial, upon inspection of the Flying Cloud's ship's log, said that it was, "the most wonderful record that pen ever indited," and called the voyage "a national triumph (that) points clearly and unmistakably to the preeminence upon the ocean that awaits the United States of America."
Soon, the story reached London where The Illustrated London News called it a "most astonishing voyage."
The Flying Cloud sailed for China with a new smaller crew. Sarah Lyon Coffin and J.D. Townsend, who was sailing on a voyage around the world, were the only two passengers aboard. The Flying Cloud rode the outgoing tide out past the Golden Gate, where the clipper encountered "thick and hazy weather," along with "light airs" out of the west. It was all of a week before the N.E. trade winds picked up on October 27th for a time and the voyage of the Flying Cloud to the Sandwich Islands was a slow one. Taking seventeen days before Captain Creesy "spotted Honalullu Pilot Boat" 15 miles off Diamond Head "At 6 P.M.," as the Flying Cloud sailed on past Oahu on her voyage across the Pacific.
The Flying Cloud sailed between Latitudes 19û and 21û all the way to Macao on a voyage that would take all of a month from the Sandwich Islands, and anchored in Macao Roads on December 3, 1851. Captain Creesy cleared the Flying Cloud with Portuguese port authorities and took on a pilot for the seventy-mile sail up the shallow silted Pearl River and anchored at Whampoa, twelve miles downstream from Canton.
From Whampoa, Captain Creesy wrote to S. Griffits Morgan in San Francisco, "I had forty-two days over to Macao," with "no winds to speak of for the passage." Perkins also wrote of a tragedy at sea over the course of the voyage when the Fourth Mate was "accidentally killed by being caught in the bight of a rope."
ECS - New information has recently come to light as to the identity of the fourth mate thanks to Henning Pohlmann, a German maritime historian, in his correspondence and response to our Web site. The fourth mate was Carl Leopold Albert Maass, and presented here is the letter.
Obituary for the fourth mate of the Flying Cloud, which was published January 10th, 1852 in the "Borsen-Halle, Hamburgische Abend-Zeitung fur Handel, Schiffahrt und Politik" ("Stock Exchange-Hall, Hamburgian Evening-Newspaper for Commerce, Shipping and Politics")
Our son, Carl Leopold Albert Maass who four years ago had travelled to America, 27 years old, served as mate on board of 20th October 1851 from San Francisco to China sailing ship "The Flying Cloud" and had been on November 16th, 1851, when he during a gale with courage and resolution wanted to secure a sail, of the bight of the big top-mast-storm-sail or stay-sail-neck so badly hurt, that death within 15 minutes finished his so brisk young life. His corpse the following day with all on board ships usual ceremonies, was sunk into the floods of the Pacific Ocean. Our grief will be only mitigated by the affirmation of his master Creesy, that our son had enjoyed the general sympathy and esteem of the ship's crew.
This sad, just now reaching message, to all our and our son's friends and acquaintances.
Bornhagen near Cosslin, the 3. January 1853
The Landowner Maass with wife.
Nine years had gone by since the signing of the Treaty of Nanking ending the Opium War. Even though the treaty stipulated that certain Chinese port cities, principally Canton, were to be opened to foreign trade, much hostility among the Chinese toward foreigners still existed and the foreigners felt compelled to reside at the foreign quarter where they had resided since the sixteenth century. Canton was still the "Forbidden City" in many ways.
At Jackson Point, on the west bank of the Pearl River, was the four acre compound of long narrow brick buildings or "factories." Where Americans could work, live and trade with their designated "Hong" merchants. The life along the Pearl River was still much like it was in earlier days.
In those early days following the Revolutionary War, Yankee traders, accompanying their ginseng, sandalwood, and furs up the Pearl River to the Hong trading center in the chop-boats for the first time, marveled at the bewilderingly beautiful spectacle of flower-boats moored to the shore. They were intricately carved in the upper portions to resemble flowers and birds. Up and down the river, mandarin boats, flying silk pennants, glided by in stately splendor, propelled by double banks of oars. Brightly lacquered square sailed tea-deckers carrying tea from upriver plantations and distant provinces sailed past astonished Yankees. Boat people in their little sampans by the thousands darted about the river plying their humble trades. From their boats, trading families hawked their wares; fresh fruit and vegetables, rice and fish, and every day necessities; "all that was under heaven."
In the twilight, boat people moored their sampans to the muddy bottom of the banks of the river with bamboo poles. Thousands of paper lanterns, like fireflies, dotted the river in the evenings, casting over the river a soft glow under the stars. There was no other place anywhere in the world like old Canton. For Yankee traders, after having sailed half way around the world, such sights left them in awe.
After landing in the chop-boats at Jackson Point, near the walled city of Canton, goods were stored at Hong warehouses known as "great go-downs," that were guarded by one of the "Thirteen Hongs of Guangzhou," merchant groups who provided security, acting as godfathers for the foreign devils, or "Fan-Kwae."
On the west bank of the Pearl River, Americans took up residence in their long narrow brick buildings made up of several divisions or "houses" all together known as factories. There, they maintained their counting houses and living quarters. Each factory was surrounded by a small courtyard and separated from the others. Inside each factory were offices, parlors, a strong room, a kitchen, and sleeping quarters. The front house along the river had a commanding view that made the traders' restricted isolation at the factories almost tolerable.
Western merchants in those earlier days were required to hire a number of lesser agents who would take care of the provisioning and loading of ships. Linguists were hired to interpret and conduct trade in Pidgin English. Regulations covered every aspect of a merchant's life in Canton. Few liberties were granted to them by their cohong hosts, but boating excursions on the Pearl River were allowed.
To those earlier Yankee traders, the Forbidden City of Canton lay beyond the terraced hongs, free from the gaze of foreign devils and the Mandarins saw to it that the city remained that way until the conclusion of the Opium War.
While no longer officially forbidden, Canton still lay beyond the reach of foreigners, but they still had the pleasures of their gardens and the river for their recreational boating excursions and the life on the river remained much the same for the Chinese as it had been for many generations. Only now, many of the passage boats going down the Pearl River sailed to Hong Kong as well as Macao.
The British had discovered a magnificent harbor on that large beautiful strategically located island of few inhabitants, just a few fishermen, and had occupied Hong Kong during the Opium War. With the signing of the Treaty of Nanking in 1842, Hong Kong was awarded to the British and proclaimed a Crown Colony.
Since then, Hong Kong had become an important center of Far East trade. The streets were laid out and a city grew up along them as buildings of substance went up to house the growing numbers of inhabitants, mainly merchants, government officials, wealthy foreigners, and army and navy officers.
As an outpost of the British Empire, the Crown Colony soon acquired many of the amenities of home to make their lives as pleasant as possible. Already, there were churches and a racecourse. The troops had their own barracks and parade grounds. A recently constructed icehouse made life more tolerable over the course of the long hot humid summer months.
Much intercourse went on between Hong Kong and Macao, the Portuguese colony across the delta forty miles away, where the climate was milder over the summers. The city had a European flair that Hong Kong residents found to be most pleasant. Between the two colonies were small islands where pirates lurked waiting for small vessels to pass by.
Up to the establishment of Hong Kong, Macao was the only place of residence where the families of foreign traders from Canton could live. Since then, frequent visitors from Hong Kong joined them, with many families spending at least part of the summers in Macao. Besides the commercial ties, there was a growing cultural and social interchange between the colonies and residents of both made frequent visits back and forth across the delta.
There was a proliferation of cultural organizations in Hong Kong, such as the Royal Asian Society Branch and the Hong Kong Club. Amateur theatrical groups flourished. Frequent parties prevailed, often with diverse themes and the merrymaking usually went on into the long hours of the nights.
One such family that made the crossing often was that of Frederick Thomas Bush, a merchant from New England who had sailed to China aboard the Probus at the age of twenty-eight in 1843. He had established his own firm in two years and soon after was appointed United States Consul at Hong Kong. Soon his wife, Elizabeth DeBlois Bush, and their two young sons, ages two and three, sailed aboard the Rainbow on the clipper's second record-setting voyage to Whampoa to join him.
On the Rainbow's previous maiden voyage to Whampoa, she had attracted much attention and many Americans at the factories in Canton made special excursions from Jackson Point down the Pearl River to Whampoa to get a look at John Willis Griffiths' magnificent clipper.
Now, the Flying Cloud was attracting the same kind of attention of American visitors from Canton as well as from Hong Kong. One of them certainly was Frederick Thomas Bush, for he booked passage for his wife and family to sail to New York aboard the Flying Cloud. The family now included their daughters Amelia, Fanny, and Sophie, ages five, four, and two. Three of their servants were to accompany them. The two boys had already returned to Boston and were attending school.
Upon the Flying Cloud's arrival at Whampoa, Laban and Sarah Coffin left the ship and the two would remain in China for a time settling in Victoria, a city on Hong Kong Island, where Laban entered into the ship chandler trade. Sarah gave birth to a daughter, Mary Ellen, the following summer.
While in China, Laban became so intrigued with the amazing feats of the Chinese jugglers he encountered there that he decided to bring a troupe back to San Francisco in the spring of 1853 for a tour of America. This move eventually turned out to be tremendously successful and a financial windfall for Laban and his family.
Over the month of December as the Flying Cloud lay anchored at Whampoa, the ballast was unloaded and a cargo of tea, silks, 100 tons of Cassin small mats, and 11,000 small storage boxes bound for New York were hauled aboard. The sight of the Flying Cloud anchored in the harbor inspired Captain Creesy to commission a Chinese artist to do two paintings of his ship, one for Mr. Morgan in San Francisco, and the other for Mrs. Creesy and himself.
Anchored nearby, was the Low's clipper ship N.B. Palmer, under the command of Captain Charles Porter Low, taking on freight at the same time, and Captain Creesy was anxious to be off as soon as possible to try and reach New York ahead of his rival. All he would get would be a three-day head start.
Creesy had hoped to be able to replace the Flying Cloud's badly sprung and crippled main mast before the voyage, but was unable to find a suitable mast at Whampoa and the Flying Cloud would have to sail in her much weakened condition.
Three months of provisions came aboard, enough to feed a crew of fifty men, four mates and the Creesys, along with the eight passengers; among them T.D. Townsend who was continuing on with his around the world voyage.
On January 5, 1852, the Flying Cloud left the anchorage at Whampoa in tow and soon passed the first bar in the Pearl River. She waited at the second bar overnight for the early morning tide of August 6th, before proceeding on down the delta and reached the open waters of the sea by noon.
Captain Creesy set the course for Sunda Strait for the westward voyage around the Cape of Good Hope to New York, that was expected by some to take 80 days. Others in Canton thought that a 70 to 75-day run to New York was possible, but Creesy knew better then to be that optimistic considering the state of his crippled main mast. If he beat the N.B. Palmer back to New York then it would be a very lucky passage indeed.
Elizabeth DeBlois Bush and her daughters, along with their servants, took up their quarters in the great cabin of the Flying Cloud and settled in for the long passage home. The presence of the three young girls aboard the Flying Cloud did much to raise the spirits of their fellow passengers and crew as the Flying Cloud sailed on down past the many reefs and islands of the South China Sea. They were bound for Sunda Strait that Creesy knew so well from his many years engaged in the East India trade while captain of the Onieda and aboard the Salem East-Indiamen of his youth.
The condition of the Flying Cloud's weakened mast became apparent when on January 10th according to the log: "when five days out carried away main topsail yard." On January 17th, Creesy "refished the Main Mast" and nine days later on January 26th had to do so again.
After the passage through the treacherous Java Sea, the Flying Cloud reached Sunda Strait, where "a severe squall twisted the main mast head and split the heel of the main topmast so badly as to render it useless."
The Flying Cloud passed through Sunda Strait sailing on past Java Head and headed due south for Christmas Island. Where on January 21st, the Flying Cloud ran into a monsoon, where Creesy was obliged to go Eastward to 110û before getting the trade winds and did not pass the meridian of Java Head, after getting the trades, until January 27, the 20th day out. The Flying Cloud then proceeded on across the Indian Ocean, where somewhere along the way they encountered an outward bound ship with whom they exchanged fresh fruits, vegetables, and chickens for newspapers.
Among the items gleaned from the newspapers was an obituary account from the December 1, 1851 edition of the Boston Daily Atlas:
Capt. Creesy of the ship Flying Cloud
It will be seen by the Telegraph news in another column that this gallant sailor is no more. Two days after sailing from San Francisco bound to China, he died and the ship proceeded in charge of the mate. He was a native of Marblehead, and was about 46 (sic) years of age. For many years he commanded the ship Onieda of New Bedford, in the China trade, and was distinguished in the uniform rapidity of his passages. In the Flying Cloud, he made the shortest passage on record to San Francisco, and eclipsed the finest and most costly merchant ship in the world. And yet, this crowning triumph of his life was attended with many disasters to his spars and sails; still he pressed on, disdaining to make a port short of his destination. In every scene of a sailors life "with skill superior glowed his daring mind" - and his dauntless soul "rose with the storm and all its dangers ahead." But now rests from his toils regardless of the triumph. Peace to his waves!
It was suspected that Captain Creesy had something to do with the placing of his death statement in a concocted report that was passed on to a Panama bound ship early on in the voyage. The statement swiftly found its way across the Isthmus and aboard the Cherokee, bound for New Orleans, where the news was telegraphed on to New York. The obituary appeared in the papers and proved to be greatly advantageous for Creesy in stopping a legal action about to be served against him by sea lawyers hired by his former first mate aboard the Flying Cloud, whom Creesy had dismissed at San Francisco for shirking his duties. Grinnell, Minturn & Co. were suspicious of the report's validity and said as much.
The Flying Cloud encountered light breezes for the rest of the passage across the Indian Ocean and as the clipper passed to the south of Madagascar and approached the Cape of Good Hope, the Flying Cloud sailed into stormy weather and heavy seas. Creesy recorded in the log entry of February 17th that he was compelled to "send down the Main Topgallant mast & yard in order to relieve the Main Mast." When the weather cleared, Creesy ordered "set all sail." On February 23rd, the Flying Cloud rounded the Cape of Good Hope and then proceeded on a slant to the northwest up the Atlantic Ocean for New York. The Flying Cloud arrived there on April 10, 1852, after a passage from Whampoa of 94 days, ten days after the arrival of the N.B. Palmer.
There were no sea lawyers there to greet Captain Creesy at the docks for the former disgruntled First Mate had long since shipped out to sea again.
As the California clippers arrived home, one by one, upon completion of their first round the world voyages in 1852, it was discovered that nearly all of them were in need of a pretty thorough overhaul aloft. Such was the case with the Sea Serpent, Eclipse, Stag Hound, Witchcraft, and Tornado, as well as the Flying Cloud. All these clippers were re-rigged with sturdier spars and heavier rigging.
The rigging of the Flying Cloud upon her return in April 1852, was dismantled and samplings of her worn fishings, lashings, and seizings were removed and taken to the Astor House where they were exhibited.
Grinnell & Minturn & Co. had the log book from the Flying Cloud for the San Francisco run printed in gold letters on white silk, and gave away copies to their friends.
Upon arrival back in New York, Captain Creesy and his wife avoided notoriety and escaped to Marblehead.
Donald McKay was keen to take note of all the meticulous records kept by the Creesy's concerning the damage sustained by the main mast over her around-the-world voyage. The lessons learned from the wear and tear of this voyage would go a long way toward the sturdier construction of future McKay clippers.
Captain Creesy called for changes aloft to get more sail area "without going up high to get it," and called for longer yards on the foremast to match the yards on the replaced mainmast, which in Creesy's eyes would move slightly foreword the center of effort of the canvas.
With her main mast repaired at last, her new foremast yards in place and her re-rigging completed, the Flying Cloud soon began to take on cargo for another run around the Horn. Talk had been building up of a coming race between the Flying Cloud and the N. B. Palmer, the 1490-ton clipper under the command of Captain Charles Low. The N. B. Palmer had made her maiden voyage around the Horn the previous year before the Flying Cloud-Challenge race, and had arrived at San Francisco on August 21, 1851, with a very respectable passage of 107 days.
On the second leg of her first voyage around the world, the N. B. Palmer had beaten the time of the Flying Cloud's passage to China by 10 days and the passage home to New York by 10 days.
The Flying Cloud had sailed all the way around the world on her first voyage with her main mast in a weakened condition. This undoubtedly was the reason why the Flying Cloud did not make better time on the last two legs of the voyage and lost these races to the N. B. Palmer. Now, both clippers were loading cargo for another run around the Horn.
Captain Low of the N. B. Palmer was most certainly looking forward to another race against the Flying Cloud for he thought his ship was the faster clipper for the China trade and in any trade going before the wind. But "On the wind the Flying Cloud can beat us a mile or even more an hour."
The Flying Cloud cleared New York for her second run around the Horn on May 14, 1852 with Captain Creesy still in command and his wife, Eleanor, still the navigator, and sailed on down the Atlantic.
The Staffordshire under Captain Josiah Richardson, and the Shooting Star under Captain Judah P Baker, had both cleared Boston Harbor 11 days earlier on May 3rd for two very fast passages around the Horn of 102 days and 106 days respectively. With time and winds in their favor, the Flying Cloud would never get the chance to catch up to them to make a contest out of it.
The Gazelle, a tea clipper not expressly designed for the Cape Horn run, was launched on January 12, 1851, from the shipyard of William Webb, and had a slow maiden voyage 135-day run around the Horn to San Francisco.
The Gazelle, 182 x 38 x 21 feet, 1244 tons, was the sharpest clipper that Webb ever built. She was strongly built and had great deadrise as well as a small midship section with little bilge to speak of. Not a good trait when trying to maintain stability in heavy seas, but William Webb had not designed her and thought of the Gazelle as "a yacht, but no merchantman; she will carry but little cargo and in heavy seas and weather will be uncomfortable and make poor time."
Webb thought of her as more suitable for the tropics and the run across the Pacific and Indian oceans over the passage to New York from China and this proved to be true. Captain Dollard had replaced Captain Henderson at San Francisco on the Gazelle's first voyage. The Gazelle did not live up to her owner's expectations on her first Cape Horn run, but her passage across the Pacific was swift. And the passage home from China, spurred on by favorable monsoon winds around the Cape of Good Hope, a swift passage as well.
She sailed on May 18, 1852 on her second voyage around the Horn.
The Flying Cloud sailed on May 14th, and the N.B. Palmer sailed on May 22nd. The N.B. Palmer found the winds and the weather in her favor and crossed the line three days behind the Flying Cloud.
The N.B. Palmer caught up with the Flying Cloud soon after crossing the line, whereas Creesy did his best to lose her. The N. B. Palmer under the command of a determined Captain Charles Low again caught up with the Flying Cloud off the coast of Brazil. Captain Low captured the encounter in his biography:
I had come up with her (Flying Cloud), beating her ten days thus far and only forty days out I felt very proud of it. . .Captain Creesy hailed me and wanted to know when I left New York. I replied, "Ten days after you." He was so mad, he would have nothing more to say. My ship was now at a standstill, and he was going ahead at full speed, and he ran ahead of me. Shortly after I filled away.
[ECS - Actually, the N.B. Palmer left New York eight days after the Flying Cloud ]
A passenger who was aboard the Flying Cloud on that voyage describes the encounter thus in this letter that appeared in the New York Herald:
To the Editor of the Herald:
Reading the Boston Semi-Weekly Atlas of the 10th inst., I saw an account of the ship Flying Cloud's late passage to San Francisco; and in the remarks it says: 'We have upon a former occasion shown how the Flying Cloud once overhauled the clipper N. B. Palmer, ran her out of sight in less than twenty hours, and beat her from the latitude of Rio Janeiro to San Francisco, twenty-one days.'
I was in the ship Flying Cloud on that voyage, and the two ships fell in company in the latitude of the Rio de la Plata- the Palmer being ahead, having sailed ten days after us in the Cloud. The wind was light at daylight, and we had been near Cuba all the night before. During the forenoon the breeze sprang up from the Northeast, and both ships made sail for a race-the N. B. Palmer outsailing the Flying Cloud while the wind was exactly aft, and Capt. Low finding his ship outsailing the Cloud, hove to speak. The Cloud came up and both masters bid each other success on the passage, and parted for a race just at twelve, noon. The Palmer hauled two points to the westward for a side wind; there Capt. Low missed, for that was just what the Flying Cloud wished for. During the night the wind freshened, so that by four in the morning the Cloud had all studding sails taken in; at eight o'clock (just good daylight) the Palmer was astern foot of her, foretopsail in sight, with his foretopmast studding sail set. It shut in thick with rain before nine o'clock and of course she was lost to sight; and that is how the Flying Cloud outsailed her so fairly in less than twenty hours. The N. B. Palmer put into Valparaiso and laid off there ten days.
The clipper ship Gazelle sailed from New York three days after the Flying Cloud, on the same voyage. Came in sight in our wake before we crossed the line, and I could just see her from the mizzen topgallant yard at nine o'clock in the morning, and at six o'clock the same evening could see her hull from the deck of the Cloud; next day still nearer. Shifted anchors on board the Cloud, guns, etc., and altered our course and got out of sight as soon as possible.
Let the New York clippers have their just due. Although I am a Bostonian and master of a Boston ship, and I have been in two clippers of the late Jacob Bell's build, besides being in the Cloud, I go in for the second side of a story and fair play.
(Signed) P. W. G.
The July 2nd log account of the N. B. Palmer tells of the incident:
July 2. Lat. 36.01° S., Long.50, 50° W. Moderate breeze. At 2 P.M. spoke the Flying Cloud after heaving to for two hours for her to come up. Stiff breezes and hauling to the Southward, sent down skysail yards and royal stunsail booms.
By the following morning, the Flying Cloud had pulled 12 miles ahead and by mid-afternoon she was gone on the horizon. Both clippers encountered fierce westerlies off Cape Horn. Captain Creesy was fortunate to have a fine crew aboard for the second voyage and claimed that "they worked like one man and that man a hero."
Captain Low aboard the N. B. Palmer was plagued with a mutinous crew and a week after his encounter with the Flying Cloud, Captain Low's First Mate was shot by one of the mutineers. His Second and Third mates were not much help and he alone had to maintain order over a stubborn disobedient crew for eighteen days off Cape Horn. Over which time he did not sleep below and slept in the corner of the deckhouse in his wet clothes getting little sleep over the course of the ordeal.
After rounding the Horn, Low was forced to quit the race and put into Valparaiso, where he sent the mutineers ashore to be sent home and tried for attempted murder on the high seas. Twenty men also deserted the ship and this delayed Low even further and the N. B. Palmer did not reach San Francisco until three weeks after the Flying Cloud arrived at the Golden Gate on September 6. 1852, after a 115-day passage, the third fastest passage of all the clippers that had departed East Coast ports over the month of May 1852.
. The N. B. Palmer arrived after 126 days, 120 days at sea, and six at Valparaiso. The Gazelle arrived after a passage of 136 days.
The following is Captain Low's log account of the mutiny aboard his ship:
July 9, Lat. 47.59° S., Long. 56.27° W. Wind South and variable. Close reefed Topsails. Midnight single reefed the Topsails. At midnight on turning out heard someone say call the Captain. Give me a pistol and I will shoot him. Met Mr. Haines, who handed me a musket and told me not to go on deck, that one of the men had a revolver and had shot him through the leg. Went on deck the mates were armed with muskets and all hands were sent on the poop, where they were examined one by one and two of them were put in Irons, but soon after the man called Semons came & gave himself up as being the one that fired at the mate. I put him in Irons and let the other go. At 8 A.M., finding that Dublin Jack had knocked the 2nd and 3rd officers down with a handspike while engaged in placing Semons in Irons, I had him Ironed and then called all hands and flogged Semons and Dublin Jack, giving Semons a dozen and a half and Dublin Jack twenty lashes. They were then placed in the Booby Hatch in Irons. Mr. Haines was shot in the leg about six inches above the knee. Light airs. Stiff Gales. Double Reefs.
Upon the unloading of her cargo at San Francisco, the Flying Cloud sailed for Hong Kong. Her westward departure across the Pacific was remarkably swift for she passed Honolulu 8 days, 8 1/2 hours out, and reached her destination in 40 days.
From Whampoa, the Flying Cloud sailed to Macao Roads with a cargo of Canton tea on December 1, 1852, and from there sailed the next day for New York. On December 14th, the Flying Cloud cleared the Sunda Straits and ran for the Cape of Good Hope, where for 14 days she experienced a number of gales followed by lighter weather and calms. The Flying Cloud arrived back at New York on March 8, 1853, with a 96-day run and on December 21st logged a best day's run of 382 nautical miles.
After sailing from Whampoa on her homeward passage, the N. B. Palmer brushed with disaster in the Java Sea when on February 28, 1853, while in the vicinity of Watcher Island, sailing along at eight knots, she ran up on a reef known as Broussa Shoal.
Captain Low managed to kedge her off into deeper water but the bottom of her hull was badly damaged and taking in seven inches of water each hour as the clipper limped on to Batavia to make repairs. Upon the discharge of her cargo and examination of her hull, Captain Low discovered that "a piece of coral nearly two feet in diameter fell out of the beam ends, which, had it come out at sea, would have caused the ship to founder in less than an hour."
A month later, Captain Low began to reship the N. B. Palmer's cargo as most of his crew came down with Java Fever and were too ill to sail, and Captain Low took on a new crew from a condemned ship to complete the passage to New York.
During March and April the Flying Cloud took on cargo for her third run around the Horn. Over at a neighboring pier was the Hornet, the big Westervelt & Mackey clipper loading cargo for her second run around the Horn. The Hornet was smaller than the Flying Cloud. She measured out at 203 feet in length, with a breadth of beam of 38 feet, and a depth of hold of 21 feet, 10 inches. She was said by historians to be "a very sharp, flush-deck vessel and one of the finest and best constructed of all clipper ships."
On her maiden voyage around the Horn in 1851, she was loaded down with very heavy cargo that included two big boilers and smokestacks intended for the steamer Senator. They were lashed down on her deck and that made for a very cumbersome passage under Captain Lawerence.
The Hornet faced head winds and calms all the way to Cape Horn, and it took her all of 73 days to reach the Horn. For the next 17 days fierce westerlies greeted the Hornet head on and it was a most turbulent passage around "Cape Stiff." The turbulence was so much so that the boilers and stacks had to be thrown overboard in the middle of a gale. Captain Lawerence was sick most of the time and there was much trouble with the crew. Upon arrival at San Francisco on January 23, 1852, after a 155-day passage, the mate and steward were arrested.
The Hornet then sailed from San Francisco for Panama with 300 passengers aboard bound for the Isthmus, and from there crossed the Pacific to Hong Kong and Whampoa, and returned around the Cape of Good Hope to New York; where her owners soon put her up for another run around the Horn.
On April 28, 1853, the Flying Cloud departed the Grinnell, Minturn & Co.'s East River Swallow Tail pier 19 in tow with the tide on her third voyage to San Francisco. At 4:30 in the afternoon, the Flying Cloud cast off her line at Sandy Hook where she came upon the Hornet, that had departed the East River just an hour or two before. The Hornet lay becalmed almost as if she lay in waiting for the larger clipper to catch up for what was to be "the closest sailing match in the history of Cape Horn" as the two clippers sailed out into the North Atlantic together.
Captain William Knapp recollection of the encounter was entered in the log:
April 28-At 2 P.M. dischg pilot & tug off S Hook. Wind S. by E & Calm for 2 days.
April 29-Lat 40.20 N Lon 70.10 W-At meridian clipper ship in sight to S.W. . . . Later recognized the Flying Cloud bringing up the breeze.
The Flying Cloud covered 3,672 miles and crossed the line In 17 days on May 15th with skysails set after having passed the Hornet on the second day out.
The Hornet had gotten off to a slower start and crossed the line in 19 days. The Flying Cloud led the Hornet around Cape St. Roque as the two clippers ran on down the South Atlantic. Where the Hornet caught the best of the S.E. trade winds and crossed 50° S. three days ahead of the Flying Cloud.
At the Horn, both ships encountered winter westerly gales. The Flying Cloud was the larger of the two clippers and this played to her advantage and she rounded the Horn in nine days, the Hornet taking 14 days.
In the South Pacific side of Cape Horn the Flying Cloud still encountered heavy head gales, which on June 24th tore her foretopmast staysail to pieces. Later on that dark night, the squalls washed chief officer Gibbs and a seaman off the topgallant forecastle into the sea as on Gibbs' initiative they were attempting to haul down the shredded staysail and both men were lost. The dark stormy seas made it impossible to save them as the Flying Cloud was going along at 10 knots.
The Flying Cloud lost her jibboom and more sails on June 27th and one of her boats was smashed.
The Flying Cloud crossed 50° S. in the Pacific seven days ahead of the Hornet. But from that point on, the Hornet flew up the Pacific and shortened the Flying Cloud's lead by two days by the time the Hornet crossed the line at 113° W. and from there Captain Knapp charted a direct course to the Golden Gate.
Whereas Creesy, who had crossed the line with the Flying Cloud three degrees to the east of her rival, then took her west out to longitude 140° 43' and north to latitude 38° 30' in a wide arc that added greater distance to her passage.
The fog was thick off the Golden Gate when the Hornet arrived on August 11th, 12 hours ahead of the Flying Cloud. The Hornet was forced to wait until the following day, August 12, 1853, and led the Flying Cloud into San Francisco Harbor 45 minutes ahead of her. Both clippers anchored off North Beach. The sight of the Hornet waiting at the Heads upset Creesy very much and for perhaps this reason Creesy did not fill out and send along the special abstract ship's log to Maury as most clipper ship captains did to supply information to be used in Sailing Directions and Wind and Currents Charts.
The August 13, 1853 edition of the San Francisco HERALD summed up the race:
Yesterday the clipper ships Hornet and Flying Cloud arrived at this port 105 days from New York. The Hornet came in about forty minutes ahead of the Flying Cloud, having left New York on the same day, the Hornet several hours ahead. Outside the Heads at New York she was becalmed until the Flying Cloud came up, when they started together, and have reached their destination almost simultaneously-an extraordinary coincidence. The Hornet was nineteen days in reaching the Equator and the Flying Cloud seventeen. The Flying Cloud, it will be recollected, has made the quickest passage to this port on record. . . . These passages are the best that have been made this season, and considering all the circumstances, they may be considered as excellent.
The Eclipse and the John Land, clippers that the Hornet and the Flying Cloud had encountered off Cape Horn, arrived 5 days and 14 days later, respectively with 119-day and 126-day passages. Other clippers that had sailed from New York and Boston around the Horn around the same time were the Shooting Star, Cleopatra, Victory, John Land, Antelope, Celestial Empire, Ino, West Wind, and the Anglo-Saxon. The Anglo-Saxon, a Downeast clipper built at Rockland, Maine, not to be confused with Donald McKay's packet of the same name.
The White Squall sailed from Philadelphia with a 121-day passage to the Golden Gate.
Over the first ten months of 1853, 131 clipper ships sailed from East Coast ports and only the Oriental and the Phantom had faster passages of 101 days and 104 days respectively. The Flying Dutchman had a 106-day passage.
The Hornet then sailed for Callao for a cargo of guano and proceeded on back around the Horn to Philadelphia.
On September 5th, the Flying Cloud sailed from San Francisco in ballast back around the Horn. Twelve days out, she experienced heavy squalls, which twisted her rudder head, and for the rest of the passage a temporary steering apparatus was used. Fifty-one days out, the Flying Cloud passed the Falkland Islands and 41 days later arrived at New York after a passage of 92 days.
After returning from her third voyage, the Flying Cloud had earned a well deserved rest and refitting over the fall of 1853 and remained moored at the Grinnell, Minturn & Co.'s pier at the foot of Maiden Lane. The Flying Cloud began loading cargo for another California run around the Horn in December.
Nearly three years had gone by since the Flying Cloud had set her record breaking run of 89 days, 21 hours, and she still held onto the laurels. William Webb's extreme clipper Sword Fish, had come the closest with a splendid passage of 90 days, 16 hours, beating the Flying Cloud's sister ship, the Flying Fish, on her maiden voyage around the Horn.
On her second voyage around the Horn, the Flying Fish made a passage of 92 days, 4 hours, anchor to anchor, which was good enough for third place honors.
Since the Flying Cloud's record breaking run, the maritime world had sung her praises, analyzed her sailing qualities, and emulated her with larger, sharper, and loftier clippers, but to date none had surpassed the Flying Cloud with a better run around the Horn.
By January 1854, close to 300 attempts by clippers, some of them more than once, had been made since the Flying Cloud's record run; or were still in progress, by daring captains. They had no qualms about piling on sail from the moment they tossed off their lines and raced all the way around Cape Horn through the most challenging seas in the world right up to the San Francisco Heads for the laurels. It was a noble challenging contest and all clipper ship captains participated.
Three of them had arrived off Sandy Hook over the evening of January 20, 1854. Captain Phillip Dumaresq had brought the Surprise home from Shanghai, 850 miles north up the China coast from Whampoa, in 98 days, completing her third around the world passage.
By chance, that same evening the Stag Hound and Sword Fish arrived to join her off Sandy Hook in wait for the morning tide. The Stag Hound was returning from her second around the world voyage and had made the fastest passage of the three with an 89-day run from Whampoa after leaving that port with a cargo of tea on October 24, 1853.
The Sword Fish, under the command of Captain Collins, had left Whampoa nine days earlier and had run head-on into the monsoon and lost a lot of canvas which slowed her down for a time. She finished the passage to New York in 97 days with the completion of her second voyage around the world.
Pilots escorted the three clippers into the harbor with the early morning tide to the waterfront piers where their precious cargoes of tea would soon be unloaded. The activity along the South Street waterfront was unusually brisk that morning.
Captain Josiah and Eleanor Creesy came aboard the Flying Cloud and made final preparations to depart New York for their fourth voyage. At 12 o'clock noon on January 21, 1854, the steamer Achilles towed the Flying Cloud down the East River out to Sandy Hook where Captain Creesy discharged the pilot.
Creesy tossed off the line, hoisted sail and began the chase after the Archer, under the command of Captain Thomas that had sailed eight days before from New York. Other clipper ships making the Cape Horn run from Boston, right before the Archer, were the Monsoon, and National Eagle, that sailed on January 4th and January 6th respectively.
The Archer was a year-old clipper built at the Crocker & Warren shipyard that was smaller than the Flying Cloud at 176 x 37 x 21: 6 feet, 1095 tons, that was on her second voyage around the Horn, and said to be a fast sailer. Creesy was anxious to catch up with her and at last the chase was on.
Sailing from Boston on January 21st was the Herald of the Morning; a Samuel Harte Pook designed medium clipper that was launched in December 1853, from the Hayden & Cudworth shipyard at Medford, Massachusetts. She was 203 x 38 x 23:6 feet, 1294 tons, and said to be a perfect gem in hull and rigging. She resembled a privateer with two brass cannon mounted on her poop deck and had a fighting appearance as well as the promise of being a swift racer.
Another clipper entering the contest from Boston was the Winged Racer out of Robert E. Jackson's East Boston shipyard and now a member of the Sampson & Tappan fleet, which sailed on January 25th on her second voyage around the Horn.
The Red Rover that had barely escaped disaster and had been damaged on the night of December 26-27 fire that had burned the Great Republic, sailed from New York on January 22nd, bound for Cape Horn and San Francisco.
The Seaman's Bride, an extreme clipper built in Baltimore in 1851, sailed from New York on January 23rd on her third voyage around the Horn.
The John Gilpin sailed from New York on January 28th on her second voyage, now under the command of Captain Ring.
None of the clippers sailing around the same time mentioned here would get so much as a glimpse of the Flying Cloud over the course of this voyage. For the Flying Cloud had found the favorable winds that Creesy had so desired and he sent his clipper flying down the Atlantic to the line in 17 days.
Each clipper, of course, sailed with copies of Maury's Wind and Current Charts and Maury himself had taken much interest in this race, as the following passages from his Physical Geography of the Sea will attest:
571. Let a ship sail from New York to California, and the next week let a faster one follow after; they will cross each other's path many times, and are almost sure to see each other by the way. Thus a case in point happens to be before me. It is the case of the Archer and the Flying Cloud on their voyage to California. They are both fine clipper ships, ably commanded. But it was not until the ninth day after the Archer had sailed from New York that the Flying Cloud put to sea, California bound also. She was running against time, and so was the Archer, but without reference to each other. The Archer, with Wind and Current Charts in hand, went blazing her way across the calms of Cancer, and along the new route, down through the northeast trades to the equator; the Cloud followed after, crossing the equator upon the trail of Thomas of the Archer. Off Cape Horn she came up with him, spoke him, handed him the latest New York dates, and invited him to dine on board the Cloud, which invitation, says he of the Archer, "I was reluctantly compelled to decline."
572. The Flying Cloud finally ranged ahead, made her adieus, and disappeared among the clouds that lowered upon the western horizon, being destined to reach her port a week or more in advance of her Cape Horn consort. Though sighting no land from the time of their separation until they gained the offing of San Francisco-some six or eight thousand miles off-the tracks of the two vessels were so nearly the same, that, being projected on the Plate IX., they would appear almost as one.
The table presented here shows how the Flying Cloud bested the Archer over the course of this voyage and set the record.
` FLYING CLOUD
Left New York.........................Jan. 21
Crossed Equator......................Feb. 7 17 days out
Passed Cape San Roque.......Feb. 10 20 "
Passed 50° S. (Atlantic).......Mar. 4 42 "
Passed 50° S. (Pacific)..........Mar. 16 54 "
Crossed Equator.....................April 5 74 "
Arrived San Francisco........April 20 89 days, 8 hours
ARCHER
Left New York.........................Jan. 13
Crossed Equator......................Feb. 2 20 days out
Passed Cape San Roque.......Feb. 5 23 "
Passed 50° S. (Atlantic).......Mar. 4 50 "
Passed 50° S. (Pacific)..........Mar. 18 64 "
Crossed Equator.....................April 7 84 "
Arrived San Francisco........April 29 106 days out
The last entry in Captain Creesy's log reads:
April 20th Lat. 37° 18': Long. 123° 54'. Light breeze, hazy weather, at 1 p.m. made Farallones Islands; at 6, took a pilot, and anchored in San Francisco, after a passage of 89 days, 8 hours!
Over the course of the 4th voyage, the Flying Cloud had logged 15,091 miles with a best day's run of 360 miles.
With this eclipse of the Flying Cloud's earlier record, San Francisco went wild with enthusiasm and Captain Creesy was hailed as the hero of the day in all the city newspapers.
Even with all the excitement going on over his record passage, Creesy lost little time discharging his cargo and taking on fresh provisions for the China run. The Flying Cloud left San Francisco Harbor out past the Golden Gate under tow of two Hong Kong bound steamers 8 days, 8 hours after her arrival.
The winds blew hard that day kicking up the waves and the eddy currents ran so strong that the steamers were having trouble handling the Flying Cloud. With the dangers mounting, Creesy decided to come to and anchored the Flying Cloud a mile from shore in 12 fathoms of water for the night.
The next day, the gales still blew heavy and some in San Francisco were sure that the wind had blown the Flying Cloud on the beach. The U.S. Steamer Active came out the Golden Gate to offer assistance, which Captain Creesy declined, determined to wait out the gales, which began to taper off, and Creesy decided to wait another day before departing.
The next morning, the Flying Cloud rode the tide out past the bar, where Creesy discharged the pilot, hoisted sail, and caught the northwesterly breeze for Hong Kong. The Flying Cloud had a remarkably quick run of it flying across the Pacific, arriving in 37 days at Hong Kong and then on to Whampoa for a cargo of tea and other precious Chinese commodities.
The Flying Cloud sailed from Whampoa with a $1,000,000 cargo on July 20th bound for New York and caught the prevailing winds on down the South China Sea. On August 7th, the Flying Cloud encountered storms and foggy weather and was sailing hard when she struck and ran up on a coral reef with such force that the jagged coral stripped off the shoe cutting right through the Flying Cloud's keel leaving a hole through the hull.
The bow of the Flying Cloud was up out of the water three to four feet. Creesy was able to back the ship off the reef into deep water and was then faced with the prospect of putting into a nearby port for a lengthy stay where repairs tended to be very expensive and could have easily amounted to $30,000 or more.
The thrifty New England Yankee captain deduced the rate of the sea water coming in through the hole, a rate of 11 inches an hour, and decided on another less expensive course of action.
Creesy continued on with the voyage as members of the crew manned the pumps 24 hours a day over the entire voyage half way around the world back to New York, arriving there on November 24th with a passage of 115 days, and delivered the Flying Cloud's precious cargo intact. For this astounding feat of seamanship the grateful insurance Underwriters, at a banquet at the Astor House on February 3, 1855, presented Captain Creesy with a silver service set along with a most flattering commendation by Walter R. Jones, President of the Board of Underwriters that is reproduced here.
Sir:-On your last passage from China when in command of the celebrated ship Flying Cloud, with a rich and costly cargo of delicate goods, the total value of which, probably, amounted to a sum of dollars, you encountered adverse currents and stormy and foggy weather, which carried your ship upon a coral reef, on the 7th of August last, in the China Sea, striking with such severity that her bow was raised out of the water three or four feet, her shoe taken off her keel, and keel itself cut through to the bottom planking causing her to leak badly and to make a great quality of water.
With a skill that none but a first rate shipmaster possesses, you soon extricated her from her perilous situation, without cutting away her masts or making any other great sacrifice, which is often done, nominally for the benefit of whom it may concern proving very frequently however, to the great detriment of all concerned.
In a very short time you had her afloat ready to proceed, when the important question arose in your mind where you should go; on the settling of which much then depended.
Again your good judgment manifested itself. The expensive and costly ports in the straits were near at hand, you determined to avoid them and no one can say how much you saved to those interested in your valuable ship and cargo, but it is reasonable to suppose that those concerned have been saved at least, thirty thousand dollars and probably much more; in fact no one can possibly tell the extent of saving with much accuracy; all know it has been very large.
At that time your qualifications as a skillful commander again became manifest and you seem also to have combined in yourself the talents of the merchant as well as the shipmaster.
After relieving your ship your attention was directed to the next best movement, and in that you rendered us an important service; instead of running your ship into an expensive port before referred to where the positive and known charges would have amounted to a very large sum, you examined the condition of the vessel and the means at your command and although your crew was weak and insufficient you made up your mind to proceed homeward, and with a leaky ship you left the China seas and in a very short time thereafter, to the great relief of the Underwriters you reached this port in safety and with scarcely a damaged package on which a claim could be made upon the Underwriters.
Taking into view the important services you have rendered to the Marine Insurance Companies of the city, by your energetic, prompt, skillful and successful conduct, they have caused a choice and a weighty service of plate to be prepared, which I now have the honor, in their name, to present you, as a testimonial of their appreciation of your good conduct, so opportunely and satisfactorily rendered on this voyage referred to, and that you may long and successfully live to enjoy it, is, I can assure you, the ardent wish of all the donors.
We also desire to record out testimonial in your favor, and to make known your example, that the timid may be encouraged and the energetic, sustained and strengthened in a similar course of conduct. In avoiding an entry at a port in the Chinese seas, and the necessity of discharging and reloading your cargo, you have saved the property from charges to a very large amount, your ship from a long detention, and your crew from the hazards of entering a sickly port, all which it was most desirable for you to avoid, and in doing so you are entitled to our acknowledgments.
Captain Creesy responded with a letter acknowledging the points brought up with the presentation.
Sir:-I have received your favor of the 3d inst., together with a copy of your remarks at the recent presentation to me of a service of plate. Throughout the voyage of which you speak in flattering terms, I merely did my duty as a shipmaster, according to the best of my knowledge and ability.
Though for this I claim no praise, I am not insensible to the good opinion of the Honorable Board which you represent, and I am very far, I trust, from being ungrateful for the beautiful and valuable testimonial with which they have seen fit to honor me.
The Sailor, amid the difficulties, dangers and responsibilities of his profession, often feels the need of appreciation and sympathy. These are his best reward and highest encouragement. From the bottom of your heart I thank you, Sir, and the gentlemen of the Board of Underwriters, for your kind words and rich gift, I shall cherish them while I live, and shall be proud to leave such a legacy to my family.
With great regard, your ob't servant,
Josiah P. Creesy.
The Flying Cloud left New York on her 5th California Cape Horn voyage in mid-February, 1855, and had a 108-day passage to San Francisco arriving there on June 6, 1855.
From there, the Flying Cloud sailed on across the Pacific to China passing Honolulu 11 days out on June 22nd and arrived August 1st at Hong Kong after a passage of 39 days.
The Flying Cloud sailed from Macao on September 7th down the South China Sea and proceeded on past Java Heads across the Indian Ocean. The Flying Cloud was off the coast of Madagascar one day when Eleanor Creesy from her cabin window saw a man fall overboard who was swept astern.
She rushed on deck, threw a life buoy over the rail and gave the alarm. The Flying Cloud was hove to and a boat lowered and sailors rowed out to search for the man. They returned without him. Captain Creesy then sent out two boats and told his men to keep searching until nightfall. After a long search, the man was picked up four hours later just as he was about to succumb to his fate. Upon the boat's return to the ship with the almost drowned sailor, Mrs. Creesy had him brought down to her cabin where she nursed him back to health.
The Flying Cloud arrived back a New York on December 14, 1855, after a run of 97 days from Macao and 72 days from Anjer. Perkins and Ellen retired to their home at Marblehead for a long deserved rest.
The command of the Flying Cloud passed over to Captain Reynard and the clipper was pronounced to be strong and fit for her sixth Cape Horn voyage that got under way on March 13, 1856. Captain Reynard took the Flying Cloud flying on down the Atlantic, but soon it was discovered that her bowsprit was badly sprung and the ship was not deemed to be shipshape in several other areas as well. Still, the Flying Cloud made it to the line in 19 days and passed Rio 31 days out.
Off the coast of Argentina past latitude 37°, the Flying Cloud ran into heavy gales and high seas which took a heavy toll on the Cloud's hull, spars, and rigging. On April 29th, Captain Reynard was forced to turn around and set a course for Rio, arriving there on May 10th. Six weeks of repairs followed and her spars were cut down.
The Flying Cloud continued on with her voyage on June 23rd and reached the Horn 24 days later, where she encountered a week of stormy weather that forced Captain Reynard to rig an additional rudder to the clipper in order to steer her properly. The Flying Cloud arrived at San Francisco on September 14, 1856, 82 days from Rio with a passage of 113 sailing days from New York. Captain Reynard was credited with having made a best day's 24-hour run of 402 miles.
By the time of the Flying Cloud's arrival, a great commercial trade depression had set in and the Flying Cloud was laid up in San Francisco until January 1857. Captain Reynard left the ship and Captain Creesy was sent out across the Isthmus to California to take command of the Flying Cloud again.
He arrived at San Francisco with Mrs. Creesy from Panama aboard the steamship Sonora to bring the Flying Cloud back home around the Horn to New York, which he did with a passage of 91 days arriving back at the East River in early April.
The commercial depression got worse and continued on for some time and for the next two years, eight months, the Flying Cloud was forced to remain idle at Grinnell, Minturn & Co.'s East River pier.
In early November 1859, the Flying Cloud was at last taken out and towed up the East River to the sectional dock. Her spars were cut down again and her canvas reduced, and other repairs made to this venerable old clipper that had made six Cape Horn voyages over the past eight and a half years and she had certainly seen better days.
*****
While departing in tow this time on her seventh voyage, the Flying Cloud passed by the medium clipper Andrew Jackson loading cargo for her fifth run to San Francisco. She was berthed at the pier opposite her owners' house at 45 South Street with a banner flying from her foremast proclaiming that the ship was "up for California."
John H. Brower & Co. owned the Andrew Jackson, which was launched from the Mystic, Connecticut shipyard of Irons & Grinnell in March 1855. Her original name was Belle Hoxie, which was changed as soon as her new owners bought her that April.
The Andrew Jackson was 220 x 41:2 x 22:3 feet, 1679 tons old measurement and was a strong, heavily-sparred, well-built ship with a figurehead of her namesake juxtaposed at her bow. Her four swift previous passages compared favorably with those clippers of the extreme variety and she always delivered her cargoes in excellent condition.
In command of the Andrew Jackson was "Cap'n Jack" Williams who was known as a hard driver. On her fifth passage to San Francisco, the Andrew Jackson hoisted her anchor at 6 a.m. on Christmas Day, December 25, 1859, and was towed down the East River with the tide, and discharged her pilot at noon off Sandy Hook.
Ever since his first run around the Horn in command of the Andrew Jackson in 1855, Cap'n Jack had raced against the phantom of the Flying Cloud. The Andrew Jackson's maiden run was the slowest with a passage 128 days. But the succeeding three voyages of 105, 101, and 103 days had given him hope that he might someday take the laurels from the Flying Cloud.
This was utmost on his mind as he piled on sail off Sandy Hook and roared on down the Atlantic to the line crossing the equator in "20 days & Twelve houers" on January 14, 1860. Cap'n Jack was a much better sailor than he was a speller, as his log will attest. The Flying Cloud had made it to the line on her record run in 17 days.
On the way to 50° S. , Cap'n Jack observed "a Large Curkel Round the Sun," as well as "A Mackrel Sky and Mears Teiles & Read in the Morning." The Andrew Jackson crossed Lat. 50° S. in "43 and a Hafft Days," as opposed to the Flying Cloud's 42 days.
The Andrew Jackson sailed around the Horn and then ran into heavy squalls and high seas. Still, she crossed Lat. 50° S. in the Pacific 12 hours ahead of the Flying Cloud in "53 and Hafft Days," adding "The Barometer is going up nicely and I am in hope to havey a good run yeat."
Seventy-three days out, the Andrew Jackson crossed the equator in the Pacific one day ahead of the Flying Cloud. As Cap'n Jack wrote in his log "Shortest but 3 on Record." In his log there was as of yet no mention of his phantom adversary, the Flying Cloud until the 83rd day when he wrote down "I am in hopes yeat to Do as well as the Flying Cloud's time."
On the 86th day he encountered "Baffling and Puffy" winds adding, "I am in hopes the wind will come to the west Soone." His hopes were answered two days later as squally winds filled his sails and moved him right along encouraging him to write in his log on March 22nd "We are good for the Flying Cloud Yeat."
The next day at 4 p.m. in the afternoon Cap'n Jack logged "made the Farallons , 89 DAYS AND 4 HOUERS FROM NEW YORK."
Captain Jack Williams was of the opinion that he had snatched the laurels from the Flying Cloud, but he was not able to get a pilot until the following morning and his port-to-port time was longer than the Flying Cloud's.
San Franciscans certainly thought that the Andrew Jackson had broken the record. They gave Captain Williams an ovation and offered to parade him about the city in a carriage. But out of modesty the captain declined the offer content in the knowledge that he thought that his name would go down in the record book with the fastest Cape Horn passage from New York to San Francisco.
This voyage has been subject to many debates throughout the maritime world that continues to this day. But by far the best account summing up the contest between the Andrew Jackson and the Flying Cloud as to which clipper could claim the record passage from New York to San Francisco is presented here taken from Howe & Matthews American Clipper Ships:
The Jackson broke no records, either on a whole passage or over any of its sections. It has frequently been published that her run from New York t San Francisco, in 1859/60, was 89 days, 7 hours (also given in some instances, 89 days, 4 hours) which would be eclipsing the Flying Cloud's two fastest runs, but these statements are proven to be mythical. On the passage in question, the Jackson hove up her anchor at 6 a.m., Dec. 25th, and passed Fort Lafayette at 8.45; discharging her pilot at noon. She received her San Francisco pilot at 8 A.M., Mar. 24, 1860, and anchored in San Francisco Bay at 6 P.M. Thus her passage is 90 days, 12 hours, anchor to anchor; 89 days, 20 hours, pilot to pilot; which is the third fastest of record to this date. Distance sailed, 13,700 miles as against 15,091 miles covered by the Flying Cloud on the record run of 89 days 8 hours, anchor to anchor.
After a referral to another passage the writer continues:
It appears that the fast passages of the Jackson were due to hard driving and also to a succession of winds favorable to her running near to a direct course, rather than to her ability to move through the water rapidly and there is no record of any great day's run to her credit.
Further discussion concerning this contest can be found in Carl C. Cutler's Greyhounds of the Sea. The passage is presented here and the readers are left to make up their own minds about this matter. I accept the conclusions of Carl C. Cutler along with the conclusions of Octavius T. Howe and Frederick C. Matthews, the authors of American Clipper Ships.
The Andrew Jackson certainly had the luck of the winds in her favor over the course of this voyage, which contributed greatly to her swift passage. Matthew Fontaine Maury often stated that he thought that an 85-day passage from New York to San Francisco was possible if a clipper ship found ideally favorable winds all along the route especially at Cape Horn.
The record passage of the Flying Cloud was 1,391 miles longer then that of her rival's passage. As Captain Creesy was prone to stray about the oceans of the world in search of fresh winds and did not always heed the advice of his wife or Maury's Sailing Directions and Wind and Current Charts when charting his course.
Carl C. Cutler in his Greyhounds of the Sea writes of the matter:
Passing for the moment the general comments regarding the sailing ability and records of the Andrew Jackson, it may be said that the foregoing, so far as it goes, appears to be a correct summary of her performance on the voyage in question. A contemporary newspaper account states that Captain Williams was reported passing Sandy Hook at noon, Christmas Day, 1859. This is by no means conclusive evidence as to the exact hour of his departure, for newspapers have no special interest in precision in such matters. Nevertheless it is altogether probable that he made sail, if not at noon, at least during the early part of the afternoon, at which time his "sea day," December 26th, began. The distinction between sea and civil time is of some importance to bear in mind in this connection.
There is, furthermore, no doubt but that the Jackson took a pilot off San Francisco Heads not later than 8 a.m., March 24th, civil time. This would make the longest possible calculation of her passage from Sandy Hook to pilot, 89 days and 20 hours, assuming she crossed the bar at New York at noon, exactly-a point which has never been disputed. Thus far there appears to have been no material discrepancy in the published accounts of the voyage.
The essence of Captain William' claim, however, was that he arrived on the pilot grounds off the San Francisco Heads, where he was becalmed, 89 days and 4 hours after taking his departure from Sandy Hook, and that no pilot was available until the following morning. If this claim is substantiated it is obvious that the Andrew Jackson will be in the position of having made the best passage at sea under sail from New York to the San Francisco pilot grounds, while the Flying Cloud's sea passages would be somewhat longer and her claim to the record would rest on the fact that her time consumed in working in and out of the harbor was shorter than that of the Jackson. Save that the point is one of interest to all lovers of the old ships, there can be no object in discussing it at this late day. Of those primarily involved, mariners and owners alike have long since passed to the reward. It remains only to add whatever fragments may be gathered to the meager store of information heretofore available, to the end that the measure of honor due the clippers and the men who sailed them may be increased rather than diminished.
Passing for the moment such positive evidence as may be available, there are several collateral matters which seem worthy of mention. The imponderables have a certain relevancy even when seemingly conclusive facts are adducible.
There is then the negative fact that the claim appears to have been undisputed for more than a generation, and indeed as we shall see, was assumed by Grinnell & Minturn, owners of the Flying Cloud, to have been proved as recently as 1892.
There is the further circumstance that whether the ship deserved the honor or not, it was awarded her apparently without a dissenting voice by the merchants' associations of San Francisco. Not only did they present the commander of the Andrew Jackson with a commodore's pennant for the shortest voyage from New York to the Golden Gate, but they attempted to parade him around the city in a victoria with the object of banqueting him afterwards; honors, which, on the authority of the Captain's sister, as stated to the writer, he was too modest to accept.
It can hardly be assumed that the merchants' committee acted without evidence in the matter. From comments in the various papers it is clear that the Jackson's log was available for examination, and that the people of San Francisco were satisfied that a record passage had been made. In some respects their sources of information were superior to those of the present generation. They knew as much about the time the Jackson sailed from New York as can be ascertained now, and they undoubtedly could have obtained detailed information about the arrival of the ship off the Heads. It is well to remember that the San Francisco committee were concerned with the matter that happened less than 24 hours earlier, and the men were walking the streets who could have challenged the award, and who might well have been interested in doing so if they felt the Jackson's claims were false.
On the Jackson's return to New York much was said of her exploit in the papers, including an account of the presentation of a chronometer watch by John Brower to Captain Williams with the time of her run, 89 days, 4 hours engraved on it. Even here no doubting voice was raised, although the friends of Captain Creesy and the Flying Cloud were as warm blooded as they were numerous. Many years later in reply to a question from the Hon. Thomas L. James, of Providence, R. I., Messrs. Grinnell, Minturn & Company wrote:
"The passage of the Flying Cloud from New York to San Francisco in 1851 was made in about ninety days, eighty-nine days and eighteen hours exactly, we believe. The passage of the Andrew Jackson in 1860, we understand, was somewhat faster that of the Flying Cloud, but we cannot give particulars at the moment."
(From a manuscript copy of a letter given by Mr. James to Mr. Charles Stark of Providence, R. I., in 1892) ( * ECS - This author finds the fact that no mention of the 1854 passage of the Flying Cloud by Mr. James is somewhat bewildering. DGR )
Carl C. Cutler in his Greyhounds of the Sea continues:
It cannot be said that circumstances of this sort, in themselves, constitute proof that the run was made as claimed, but if the credibility of Captain Williams and his officers is involved, they possibly have a moral value.
There is danger in speaking too dogmatically on the matter, but it would seem to have been remarkably easy at the time to have pieced together the facts invalidating Captain Williams' claim if it had been false. If the passage was not made as stated it is obvious not only that the Captain was an untrustworthy character, but that the people of the time, including many admirers of the Flying Cloud, must have been strangely credulous. Furthermore it involves the assumption that if Captain Jack was bluffing he was willing to assume the very real and imminent risk of making himself the laughing stock of the world. All these things are possible, but whether they are probable is a matter the reader is competent to decide for himself.
After he retired from the sea Captain Williams lived at Mystic, Connecticut, until his death in 1905, where a great many of his friends and business associates still live. Of the people now living some liked and others disliked him. The Captain was an outspoken man and made enemies, but friends or enemies, all are agreed that he was not a man to tamper with the truth. It has been stated emphatically to the writer by a number of acquaintances that, whatever his faults, "Cap'n Jack was never a man to claim anything which did not belong to him." There is no doubt but that to the day of his death he asserted and firmly believed he had made the run from the New York pilot grounds to those off San Francisco in the time above stated.
Fortunately for the historian, the record no longer need depend on newspaper reports and circumstantial evidence. After a lapse of seventy years the original log of the Andrew Jackson, in the crabbed hand and simplified spelling of Cap'n Jack, has come to light. It is reprinted in full in the appendix, and since the hour of arrival at the San Francisco pilot grounds is the mooted point, the last page of the log with the master's "89 Days and 4 Houers from New York" is here reproduced in facsimile.
The log tells a significant story. Briefly, at noon the 23rd day of March, 1860, and precisely 89 days and 3 hours from the time of taking his departure off New York (i.e., after dropping his pilot), or 89 days and 4 hours after passing Sandy Hook, Captain Williams was on the San Francisco pilot grounds ready to receive a pilot if one had been available. The wind was falling, however, and there was no pilot to be had. Accordingly the Jackson remained all night between the Farallones and the bar and did not secure a pilot until seven o'clock the following morning.
This, it is submitted, is a summary of the evidence at the present available. It is unlikely that anything of importance will be added to the record in the future, although old letters and manuscripts may yet appear to affect the situation. The reader may, therefore, draw his own conclusions from the foregoing, with the consciousness at least that his data is more complete than any hitherto available.
Whatever decision one may reach, the situation is unchanged in one important particular. The Flying Cloud undoubtedly still holds the record for the shortest passage from anchor to anchor. Since, however, the performance of a ship behind a tug or working in or out of port under command of a pilot is not the true criterion of her sailing ability, it would seem the better test is her run from pilot to pilot. If this measure is accepted it may be regarded as probable that the record for the passage under sail belongs to the Andrew Jackson.
Be that as it may, the honors are virtually even between the two ships. The difference of a few hours in a 15,000 mile voyage is in itself a slight matter, however important it may be in determining a record. Both were noble, good craft, and both were commanded by men who are entitled to be numbered among the first dozen of the hardest driving sailor men the world has produced.
The Flying Cloud was eventually sold to a British firm who sent her sailing off to London on December 8, 1859, with Captain Windsor in command, and she made the New York to London passage with shortened spars in 17 days.
Her new owners then sent the Flying Cloud to Hong Kong and she made the run in 97 days. After loading tea at Foochow, the Flying Cloud left the Min River on August 6, 1860, and made the run back to her new home on the Thames River in 123 days.
The Flying Cloud was then put on the Melbourne run and after taking on her cargo and passengers, left on February 28, 1861, and arrived at Melbourne 85 days later.
Departing Melbourne, the Flying Cloud crossed to Hong Kong in 67 days, where the ship was offered up for sale. No sale was made, but soon the ship was chartered by the British Government to transport troops home.
On December 29, 1861, the Flying Cloud sailed from Hong Kong and made a swift 9-day run to Anjier before the monsoon. After rounding the Cape of Good Hope, the Flying Cloud put into St. Helena for a week before sailing on to the Thames River, arriving there on April 20th, 1862, 112 days out from Hong Kong.
The Flying Cloud was still up for sale and this time Mackay & Co. bought her and she joined the Black Ball Line. She soon began transporting emigrants and cargo to Queensland, Australia, along with British clippers Young Australia, Royal Dane and Sunda over that run, and stayed in that trade for a number of years carrying as many as 515 passengers, averaging 93 days on both the outwards and homewards passages.
On one outward passage in 1866, an epidemic of measles broke out where unfortunately five children and one adult died.
In 1870, the Flying Cloud made a run from Liverpool to Hervey's Bay with 375 emigrants aboard in 87 days, very fast time for a 19-year-old, strained, water-soaked soft wood clipper like the Flying Cloud that had seen better days. The Flying Cloud still proved to be a very fast ship in Australian waters, where on another occasion she averaged almost 16 knots during one four day run along the Australian coast even though the Sunda had beaten the Flying Cloud by 18 miles in that contest.
The ownership of the Flying Cloud over those years was complicated, particularly around the time of the financial collapse of 1866 as shares were mortgaged and traded around. She continued in the Australian trade and James Baines ended up acquiring thirty-two shares for a time.
After a decade of loyal service to the Black Ball Line, James Baines suspended payment on a loan and the ownership of the Flying Cloud, in April 19, 1871, was taken over by Arthur Forwood. He soon sold her to Harry Smith Edwards of South Shields who entered her into the North Atlantic timber trade, where she joined the many wooden ships that ended out their careers in this way.
Over her last years, the Flying Cloud hauled lumber principally between St. Johns and London.
In 1874, the Flying Cloud left St. Johns and shortly after encountered a heavy gale and was returning to port when she ran ashore on Beacon Island Bar. Her cargo was lightered and the ship bumped around there for some time, and after much toil the Flying Cloud was eventually re-floated with a broken back and towed to St. Johns for repairs.
While on the slip, a fire broke out aboard the Flying Cloud. The flames were soon put out, but by that time the damage was deemed to be so great that it was decided to set her on fire again and then break up the ship to salvage her copper and metal fastenings. This occurred in June, 1875. The name of her last captain is lost, but he was known locally around St. Johns as "Wild Goose."
The Saint John, New Brunswick Daily News Friday, June 18, 1874 edition carried the following account:
During the heavy blow of Wednesday night, the clipper ship Flying Cloud, lying in the stream off Adam's moorings, Carleton, dragged her anchors, and swinging round, her stern was caught in a mud bank at Sand Point. In the morning - having careened with the tide in the night - she was discovered on her beam ends, her stern in three or four feet of water, her bow in twenty-five. She was deal-laden, and while in the above position a portion of her cargo, belonging to Alex. Gibson, Esq., floated away. At noon the remaining portion of the cargo was being discharged, and a few hours later a tug went to her assistance and she was towed off. At present the amount of damage sustained by the vessel cannot be stated. She was certainly in a dangerous position for a long time.
The Flying Cloud was built by McKay at Boston in 1851, and is consequently 23 years old. She is a vessel of 1098 tons, and is owned by W. S. Edwards, South Shields, England.
After an illustrious twenty-three years of service, the most famous clipper ship in all the world, the Flying Cloud, had ironically ended out her final days in the Bay of Fundy not far from the Jordan Falls, Nova Scotia birthplace of her builder, Donald McKay.
* * * * *
Captain Josiah Creesy remained in retirement at his home in Marblehead until the outbreak of the Civil War. When he volunteered to serve the Union cause and received a commission as a lieutenant in the United States Navy and was placed in command of the clipper ship Ino.
The Ino was a small extreme clipper launched at the Williamsburg, New York shipyard of Perrine, Patterson, and Stack on January 4, 1851. She was 160: 6 x 34: 11 x 17: 5, Tonnage, 895, old measurement; 673, new measurement, and was a heavily-sparred handsome clipper with a rakish rig that had proved to be a fast sailer over the preceding decade.
She had made three voyages around the Horn to San Francisco circumnavigating the world three times and then had entered into trade as an East Indiaman. At the outbreak of the Civil War, the Ino was purchased by agents of the United States Government for $40,000. She was armed with eight 32 pounders and was rated as a ship-of-war, 4th class, manned with a crew of 144 men.
Lieutenant Josiah P. Creesy took command of her and took her out from Boston on her first cruise on September 23, 1861, down the Atlantic to the equator, and returned to Boston, arriving on January 10, 1862.
In Creesy's report to the Secretary of the Navy, Creesy wrote:
The ship fully justifies all expectations in regard to the service required; she carries her batteries well, in no way affecting her strength or fastenings. Cruised in the vicinity of the equator a long time; latterly she has been very tender on account of the consumption of stores and water.
The Ino left Boston of her second cruise on January 29, 1862, and sailed to Cadiz, Spain, with a very fast run of 12 days to search for the Confederate raider Sumter, and encountered heavy weather along the way, took a battering, and lost a boat. Creesy put into Palermo, Spain to make repairs.
The Ino sailed the Mediterranean in search of the Sumter for a time before Creesy put the clipper into Tangier. While in port, Creesy found two Confederate sailors and promptly arrested them.
Upon hearing of the incident, Commander Craven of the Tuscarora ordered Creesy to release the prisoners. But the feisty Creesy had a stubborn streak that rebelled against the naval chain of command and refused saying, "I positively decline to give these men up," and away he sailed with the two Confederate sailors in the brig. With this action of defiance, Creesy came under the wrath of Commander Craven who filed charges against him for "contemptuous disregard" of orders, and Creesy soon received his discharge papers from the Navy.
The Ino returned to service under different commanders over the course of the Civil War to cruise in search of Confederate raiders, most notably the Alabama and the Florida, disguised as a merchantman.
On other cruises, she guarded fishermen and whalers, escorted merchantmen, and served as a convoy. She also served as a cruiser to the blockading squadrons of southern ports. After four years of meritorious service, the Civil War ended and the Ino was sold by the Government to Boston merchant Samuel G. Reed & Co., and renamed Shooting Star, and had a long second career as a merchantman.