Windjammers and Blue Nose Sailors
Total Page：16
File Type：pdf, Size：1020Kb
WINDJAMMERS AND BLUE NOSE SAILORS C. McKAY LITTLE windjammers-small fry of the seas-living laborious and hazardous lives, carried on until the beginning of the century the bulk of the commerce of Eastern Canada with the West Indies, the Brazils, and the Mediterranean countries from Spain to the Isles of Greece. They were of various rigs-brigs and brigantines, small barks and barkentines, tern schooners and topsail schooners, ranging from 40-odd to 400 tons burthen. But mostly they were brigantines of from 199 to 350 tons, handsome, rakish-looking craft, able seaboats, and as swift as anything of their size afloat upon the seas. In summer they braved the awful wrath of the tropical hurricanes and the wild and sudden fury of white squalls; in winter they dared the blind rage of howling blizzards in the grim ordeal of coming on the coast, until the weight of white ice forming upon their decks and rigging, turning them into fantastic fabrics of crystal, obliged their weary and frost-bitten crews to put them before the wind and let them run off to the warm waters of the Gulf Stream. A hard life and a hazardous! Every year the fleets of small windjammers paid tribute to the sea. In one year, out of the port of Yarmouth alone, thirteen vessels and two score men engaged in the West Indian trade were lost. Yarmouth's total toll in that year was thirty-one sailing vessels and 106 lives, the ships including several big clippers famous in their day. And for every ship that gave up the ghost in struggle with hurricane, blizzard, or the bright and bitter cold fury of nor'westers, there were half a dozen or so that only survived by the skin of their teeth as it were, by grace of the honest workmanship put into their sturdy hulls-survived, battered and crippled, to limp into port under jury rig. _ After the opening of the Suez Canal in the eighties the larger bluenose sailing ships, the clipper breed, began to dwindle rapidly, as on the one hand Lheir construction slowed down and on the other the older craft were sold to foreign flag owners or converted into hulks. But the small fry carried on a losing fight with steamers for some time longer, and at the turn of the century there were 230 THE DALHOUSIE REVIEW still quite a number of -ports boasting fine fleets of them. But thereafter they passed swiftly, almost mysteriously. And to-day, of the long succession of little ships of wood and canvass that drew the breath of their boisterous lives from the winds of heaven, there survives only a handful of sturdy tern -schooners, gleaning lean livelihoods from the unconsidered trifles of the West Indian trade. In the name of progress, steel and steam have superseded wood and sail. The palatial "Lady" liners, of the Canadian National Steamships Ltd., steam their arrogant way along the routes that once swarmed with sails, each of them doing the cargo-carrying work of sixty or more of the little brigantine that were the typical West Indiaman a few decades ago. Speed, efficiency and safety have been served. Instead of the annual tribute of ships 911d lives, there is a levy upon the federal treasury, with now and then a bill to be met by the underwriters. But something more than the romance of sail has gone out of the life of the sea-board provinces. For the little old windjammers were an integral part of the existence of the communities they served, communities whose major enter prises were the production of fish and lumber and their transport to foreign markets. The building of them gave employment to a large number of men, a great diversity of skilled craftsmen. The sailing of them produced and maintained a hardy breed of sailors noted for their competency and powers of endurance. They enabled the people of their communities to keep in their own hands much of the profits and employment of the work of distribution as well as of production. And for the youth of their communities they typified the spirit of adventure. Outward-bound, the brigantines carried fish and lumber in their holds and lumber piled high on their decks. Returning, some brought molasses, or sugar or rum or cocoanuts from the West Indies-coffee from the Brazils-salt from Italy or Turks' Island-· direct to eastern Canadian ports. Others carried cargoes of West Indian products, or of mal1ogany from the Mosquito coast of Central America, to United States ports and then loaded hard coal, or oil or flour and other provisions for Canadian ports. In season many of them were chartered to carry West Indian fruits to Baltimore, Philadelphia or New York. And being speedy craft with masters who carried sail till things turned blue, they usually delivered their cargoes of fruit in as good condition as the steamers of the period. Not only when they carried perishable cargoes, but at all tin1es they were hard driven, flying stunsails, ring-tails and water-sails to the last-being probably the last of square riggers to flaunt such folderoll. WINDJAM1\1ERS AND BLUENOSE SAILORS 231 Their small crews led lives of hard labour. A captain, mate, four sailors and a cook who was also steward, made up their usual complement, though some of the larger craft carried a second mate. This meant two sailors to watch-a two-hour trick at the wheel, and then by day two hours' work in the rigging or about decks, and by night straight from the wheel two hours on the lookout. There was no chance for a nap in fine weather in one's watch on deck at night, as in larger ships carrying several to a watch. In fair weather there was seldom or never an afternoon watch below. Any sort of sailing vessel always required constant care and labour to keep her shipshape and Bristol fashion, and if the mates were not usually given to godliness, they made an exacting fetish of the next virtu~leanliness. On the outward voyage there were masts to scrape and slush, yards to scour with sand and canvass till they shone bright and then oil or varnish, rigging to repair and tar down, blocks to paint-and jobs of real sailorizing, requiring skill, deft fingers, keen eyes, and giving a sense of artistic accomplishment, work that an experienced seaman delighted to do. Homeward, the ship being without a deckload, there were hardwood rails and stanchions to scrape bright and varnish, decks to holystone and oil, painting to be done outside suspended on flimsy stages over the water rushing by, intricate knots to be made to adorn some part of the ship's gear .. A thousand and one jobs ... All that the ship might come to her home port, looking natty, bright and clean-a spectacle for the admiration of the share owners and long-shore loafers, and a testimony to the efficiency and loving care of the mate. Sixteen hours on deck one day and fourteen the next. And that was not all. Making and taking in the heavier sails was an all-hands' job. If a sail blew away in the middle of the night, there was no waiting till daylight to bend a new one. It was all hands to rout out a new sail, hoist it aloft, and bend it as soon as possible-often a long and laborious and dangerous job with the ship pitching and rolling, the men on the swinging, shaking yard arms, working in blind darkness, passing the lashings of the earings, reeving bunt and clew-lines stopping the head of the sail to the jack-yard, by the touch of fingers painfully sensitive because perhaps worn to the quick. In heavy weather there was often something, the running or even the standing rigging, carrying away aloft to call all hands on deck to undertake in haste and sometimes in fear an emergency job. And in heavy weather too, the labouring hulls opened their seams to drink more than enough water to keep their limbers sweet, 232 THE DALHOUSIE REVIEW and then there would be long spells at the pumps, the hardest, most back-breaking, most disheartening labour of the seas. But life aboard these little windjammers was not without compensations. Outward-bound there was the sense of adventure, the lure of strange ports. At the outset there was often awe and wonder at the blustering might of the west wind and the insensate wrath of the sea. And then as the ship sped away to the south east, and the crew found their sea-legs and an easy stomach, spirits rose in anticipation of the fine weather to the southward. But first there was the crossing of the Gulf Stream which, south of Nova Scotia, is the trysting place of frequent and violent storms. Windjammers rarely made the crossing without a boat with Gulf Stream weather-hard squalls of wind and streaming rain swooping down from a heaven-filling wrack of gloomy, low-hung clouds. And they were lucky if the vicious seas of this region did not sweep away their deckloads. But presently that ship would leave behind her the boisterous realm of the west wind, and entered the region of calms, light, variable winds and occasional squalls of rain. Here the braces had to be manned every few minutes to trim the sails to catch a breath of vagrant air, and as there was usually enough rain to keep the ropes hard and harsh, hands worn raw in the Gulf Stream weather developed painful sores.