|
Sailing aboard a 19th
Century square rigger; the working barque James
Craig Web note: This article is reproduced with Dennis' permission, unaltered from the copy in the newsletter
[Dennis
Nicholls; Shuttleworth 1960/62] I
always intended to take part in the detailed restoration of the square
rigger James Craig, a 1,000 ton barque of the 19th Century, but due to
living elsewhere in Australasia I didn't become part of the Sydney
Heritage Fleet, as a volunteer, until the James Craig had been
back sailing for a year or so. I'm now one of the climbing crew aboard, and,
as I'm slightly older than the Delai Lama, that's a very lucky thing
to be. When
young, I, and my fellow classmates in a Cardiff sea school in 1950,
thought that a crew of young Welsh sailors would be required for either of
two sailing vessels laid up in Penarth after a Cape Horn voyage in 1949
(the square riggers Pamir and Passat, both large cargo vessels built in
the early 20th Century) but, alas, the vessels were returned to their
pre-war owners and we missed out. It
then took me more than 50 years to become a member of the crew aboard a
large square rigger. And
what an exhilarating thing that is. The
sailing vessel James Craig is the most sailed of the restored working
barques of her vintage; those built in the second half of the 19th
Century, and when under way with sails set and a ‘bone in her mouth’
she’s a sight to behold. Just
take a look at an image of her under sail and you'll know what I mean: http://www.australianheritagefleet.com.au/JCraig/JCraig.html
More
images at: http://pandora.nla.gov.au/pan/10574/20020607-0000/www.seaheritage.asn.au/jamescraig/index2ae1.html?fuseaction=PHOTO_GALLERY Heritage
notes on the James Craig: http://pandora.nla.gov.au/pan/10574/20020607-0000/www.seaheritage.asn.au/jamescraig/index1149.html?fuseaction=VILLIERS_1 [I
almost met Alan Villiers in Sydney in 1964; after meeting his brother in a
bar. How I now wish I had.] [I
did meet some of the crew of the Pamir from that 1949 voyage, when we took
them for a day sail.] As it
says on that webpage, in the way of describing why she is so
special: 'There are only four operational barques from the 19th Century
still capable of sailing - the Star of India in San Diego, California,
(1863), Elissa in Galveston, Texas, (1877), Belem in France (1896) and
James Craig in Sydney (1874). Of these, James Craig is the only one
in the Southern Hemisphere, and is the only one in the world which
regularly carries members of the general public to sea. Though her days of
sailing around Cape Horn are probably over, she has 23 roundings to her
credit. She is a true restoration, not a replica. Other Australian tall
ships are either replicas such as Bounty and bark Endeavour ['bark' is the
naval version of 'barque'] ships built (last) century such as Our Svanen
and One and All, static museum exhibits such as Polly Woodside in
Melbourne, or abandoned unsavageable wrecks, such as Santiago in
Adelaide... James Craig is a representative of the great sailing vessels
from a bygone age ... In 2003 she was awarded the World Ships Trust Medal
for authentic restoration. She joins a select band of restored ships
throughout the world, including the Mary Rose (UK 1510), Vasa (Sweden
1627), USS Constitution (USA 1797), Great Britain (UK 1843) and Cutty Sark
(UK 1869), which have received this honour.' [Editor
– I have placed a number of asides as appendices or notes, below, in an
attempt to reduce the length of the article,
And then numbered them; leaving numbers between paragraphs in the
text indicating where the asides came to mind.
The asides may be left as appendices or as notes, perhaps in
smaller text, or placed back in
the text, or discarded as required. – D] Notes: 1.
Hopefully when the Cutty Sark (built in 1869) is fully
restored, after that disastrous fire, she will become capable of
being sailed again in the open ocean. If so, to regain her historic
speed, her modern means of propulsion, her screw(s), would be require to
be withdrawn into her hull when not in use. The exposed screws of
the James Craig, although feathered, do cut a few knots off her speed
through the water when under sail power only. 2.
The Polly Woodside, in Melbourne, is a similar sized vessel to the
James Craig, and just nine years younger. Although she looks good as
a static display, she isn't seaworthy. Unfortunately, as there are many
maritime volunteers in Melbourne eager to begin the restoration of the
Polly to seaworthiness, there are a number of obstacles in the way of
getting her down to the mouth of the River Yarra, where
volunteers have control of a number of old naval wharves and ship repair
facilities. Obstacles mainly
in the form of low bridges
that have been built since she last went upriver – apart from getting
her out of that old flooded dry dock that she’s in and seeing if she is
still afloat. We sailed the
James Craig down to Port Phillip Bay and the River Yarra in 2006 and
put on a lot of day sails in the Bay for Melbournites, in an effort to
encourage sponsors to assist in raising the $5 million required to get the
Polly down to those facilities at the old naval base in William Town
- but sufficient sponsors have not as yet stepped forward with the
funding. This is doubly unfortunate; as the Victorian Government had some
millions of dollars set aside to assist the volunteers in getting her down
river, but had to spend the money to cover a shortfall in funds for
the Commonwealth Games held in Melbourne a few years ago.] 3.
In passing, I was disappointed when visiting Cardiff Bay that the
refurbished docks didn't have many heritage vessels - in fact only one was
on permanent display, an old light vessel which is being cared for by
volunteers. There was no sailing vessel to represent the era of
sail, when the docks were built in the 19th Century. (Come on
Cardiff, there are a number of likely wrecks of 19th Century sailing
vessels around the world any one of which is worthy of
restoration.) Those with the skills to restore, and the health to
become volunteers in restoration work, will soon be gone, and then it will
become a much harder task to carry out restoration work using old
technology. Cardiff deserves better than empty docks to welcome
visitors, and the lack of sail training on square riggers for its youth.
There is a wreck of a late 19th Century cargo carrying
square rigger, possibly similar in condition to the wreck of the James
Craig in 1972, admittedly a long way away from Britain, which may be
suitable for restoration; see : http://www.travel-images.com/photo-falkland4.html
or http://www.flickr.com/photos/philgyford/88547994/in/set-72057594050723733/
and http://wikimapia.org/1885059/
Cardiff could also make a bid for the Polly Woodside (that may
stimulate Melbournites to sit up and take notice!) but getting the Polly
out of the River Yarra and into a fit state to make it to Wales may be a
more expensive option than Cardiff restoring the Stanley Harbour wreck,
the Lady Elizabetth, and towing her for almost the length of the Atlantic
up to Cardiff docks. 4.
And for those interested in detailed specifications of the restored
James Craig, the dimensions (found on the webpage: http://www.australianheritagefleet.com.au/jamescraig/Facts.html
) are that she is rigged as a 3-masted Barque, as she was when launched as
the Clan Macleod in 1874, with, as motor power is now required by maritime
authorities, two 400hp MTU diesel marine engines (and ZF Marine model IRM
350 gearboxes with a reduction ratio 6:1). She is approximately 1500
tonnes loaded displacement (the '646 tonnes net', refered to, is her
registered volume; which, having been a measure based originally on the
largest barrel available at the time, a 'tun' - approximately
252 gallons or 954 litres - perhaps it should be
'646 tuns' net). She is 54.7 metres in length at the waterline and 70
metres overall, from jib boom to mizzen boom (the mizzen boom projects out
slightly over the stern). Her beam is 9.5 metres and her draught 3.5
metres, with the depth of the hold being 5.5 metres. (There was only one
hold running the length of the vessel, from a collision bulkhead to the
stern - and going beneath the aft accommodation - which is why, being
mostly just one hold, so many sailing vessel of the time sunk so quickly
when holed) The masthead height is 33.0 metres above the deck. 35.0 metres
above the waterline (the world looks good from up there, and the yards
provide a great ride in heavy seas). The
sail area is 1100 square metres when fully rigged. The length of the
standing rigging is around five kilometres with some 100 lines of running
rigging.' (We add 1.6 kilometres of rope lights - one land mile of
lights - to her rigging when preparing for New Years Eve harbour
celebrations each year.) With
five kilometres (perhaps that should be five thousand fathoms) of standing
rigging and some 100 lines (not 'ropes') of running rigging, it takes a
while to 'learn the ropes'. The
position of each line has to be well memorised along with the correct
belaying pin, so that the gear can be efficiently handled when at sea,
particularly at night as no lights are allowed on deck, (except the
navigation lights) and for rapid response in heavy weather when it's
usually 'all hands on deck' at critical moments.
The sleepy off watch crew, appearing from below, have to become
immediately alert when coming on deck, so line and sail handling have to
be well learnt by deck crew. 5.
When
it comes to linear measure I believe the world should stick to just
one system of measure, and as ships and aircraft, in their navigation, use
the 'nautical mile', based on the 360 degree circle (a nautical mile being
a minute of arc on the earth’s surface) then all linear measure should
be based on the 'International Nautical Mile' (an agreed average size of a
nautical mile - 1852 m or
about 6076 feet). To stay with the 'metric
system' it would then just be a matter of dividing that international unit
into 1,000 parts, and it just so happens that the old maritime measure of
a 'fathom' is close to a 1,000th part of a nautical mile (1,000 fathoms
currently = 6,000 feet, just 76 feet, or around 1.25%, short ). So why not
adopt the International Nautical Mile and its multiples and divisions of
1,000? The divisions starting with the 'new fathom' - authorities are
welcome to use 'fathomme' if they wish - and going down to a 'millifathom'
as a thousandth of a fathom. (For
the multiples I would prefer to stick with the term ‘nautical mile’
rather than use the term 'kilofathom')
The world could then do away with the 'metre' and the confusion of
other linear measuring systems. [And although I still like the practical
aspects of the yard, foot and inch, I would be prepared to go along with
using millifathoms in everyday measuring – for the sake of international
agreement.) Knots,
lashings, whippings and, if you’re keen, fancy rope work, using the many
types of rope and small line, are learned a little more casually.
Though some rope bending (knots) are essential to learn for some of
the many tests of training – such as the bending of a heaving line onto
a mooring line, or the bending of a stopper onto a piece of running
rigging under strain before it’s made fast. The
barque was launched on the 18th February, 1874 by Bartram Haswell &
Co. Sunderland, England, as the Clan Macleod, her ownership starting with
Thomas Dunlop (Scotland) 1874-1887 (Clan Macleod).
Then she was owned by Sir Roderick Cameron (Scotland) 1887-1900
(Clan Macleod) and the name change coming with ownership by JJ Craig,
Auckland 1900-1911, being renamed "James Craig" on 14 December
1905. This was followed by the
British New Guinea Development Company 1911-1918 and Henry Jones IXL
1918-1925. Ownership, before
becoming a wreck, ending with the Catamaran Coal Mining Co (Recherche Bay,
Tas) 1925-1930s, and being scuttled in Recherche Bay in the early 1930s.
6.
The ‘ship’s bell’ up for’ard has the name ‘Clan Macleod’
engraved on it, and was handed back to the James Craig restoration people
by someone who had ‘souvernired’ it when the vessel was a wreck.
The current ships wheel aboard the James Craig comes from a sister
vessel, under the JJ Craig company, the Jessie Craig; as the original
ship’s wheel was ‘souvenired’ from the wreck of the James Craig by
fishermen in Recherche Bay where she was a wreck for many decades; and
probably adorns some bar on the ‘Apple Isle’ – and though there was
talk about its current whereabouts, the original wheel didn’t turn up
while the James Craig was visiting Hobart in 2005 ! Again
from the website: ‘Discovered’ by a member of the Heritage Fleet, who
was looking for a suitable wreck of a square rigger for restoration by
Fleet volunteers, she was raised in 1972 by a combination of, very
enthusiastic, Heritage Fleet and Tasmanian volunteers, being refloated at
5 am, 24th October, 1972. ‘The
sad rusty hulk was later towed to Hobart starting at 7 am on the 26th May
1973 by the tug Sirius Cove, arriving at Powder Wharf,
Hobart where she stayed (sank once) from 1973-1981.
Then’, says the instigator of the salvage, ‘after much work by
volunteers in Hobart, came the long tow to Sydney harbour in January 1981,
ready for full restoration by (Heritage
Fleet) volunteers with funding provided by sponsors (mostly from one
sponsor, with a family firm connection to shipping in the past) and the
general public. It took the (Heritage
Fleet) volunteers, using a donated pontoon 'dry dock', from 1981 to
2000 to restore the old vessel up to sailing standard. A magnificent
effort by an army of volunteers over the years (I don't know if anybody
counted the total hours) which included the establishment of heavy duty
work shops manned by a bevy of grey headed old, very skilled, volunteers.
The pontoon and work shops are now being utilised to restore a large 80
odd year old steam (triple expansion) vessel’. 'Once
back in Sydney in 1981, restoration began in earnest. In 1995, the Sydney
Maritime Museum, determined that the restoration of the James Craig must
not fail, established a separate James Craig Restoration Division to
oversee the project's completion. In 2000 she was recommissioned, and has
been sailing regularly since then. … She is now sailing regularly, and
is the only 19th century barque in the world that can give members of the
general public the experience of sailing on such a ship on the open
ocean.' She
certainly does spend considerable time each year on the open ocean. The
day sails, two or three a month in summer and two a month in winter, see
her sailing out of the Sydney Heads and then either to the north east or
south east to catch the wind, and later sailing back to the Heads at the
end of the day. If the wind
and conditions are right she sails up the length of harbour to her home
berth in the inner harbour; at Darling Harbour.
In so doing she provides a magnificent addition to the harbour
scene. There she berths at a
wharf next to the National Maritime Museum, close to exhibits of the
Museum, including the replica of Captain Cook’s bark Endeavour. Her
winter day sails see her among the whale watching vessels, out of Sydney,
as the 7,000 or so Hump Backed Whales of Australia’s East Coast cruise
close to the shore, during June to August, on their way north to their
calving grounds in the Barrier Reef. She
is also out there for the return migration of the Hump Backs in September
and October, when the whales, breeching frequently, return south with
their calves and riding the 3 knot East Australia Current – the same
current that brought ‘Nimo’ (in the cartoon film) down from the
Barrier Reef to Sydney harbour – down to about the border between NSW
and Victoria, where that warm current swings away to the east.
This riding of the current is energy saving for the young calves as
the whales head for the Antarctica and their feeding grounds. Krill,
the main food of the Hump Backs, is still there in the southern waters,
but unfortunately the huge, and increasing, amounts of CO2 in the
atmosphere is being absorbed by the turbulent southern seas in greater
amounts than in warmer waters, so the resulting acidity is interfering
with shell formation on all shell fish great and small.
The quantity of krill is falling, so although a ban on killing the
great whales is currently allowing their numbers to increase, it seems
that the world community is intent on committing Hump Backs to death from
starvation. The
James Craig is also out there for the start of the Sydney to Hobart yacht
race each Boxing Day, often mixing it with the maxi yachts which are the
first out of the harbour each race - and the huge crowd of motorised
spectator vessels surrounding them on the water, and the squadron of
helicopters (I have counted 13 above us at one time) in the air overhead
– as she times her arrival at the Heads just right to provide her
passengers for the day with a truly impressive vista of the start of one
of the premier yacht races of the world.
Christmas week is then rounded off with the James Craig, lit
overall with 1,6 kilometres of ‘rope lights’, as she leads (from
behind a smaller tall ship representing the original residents of Sydney
harbour, with her Aboriginal complement aboard) other Heritage Fleet
vessels and many working harbour vessels, on New Years Eve.
All are lit overall on a harbour parade around the outer and inner
harbour, before the James Craig peels off and takes up her position
between the Opera House and the ‘Harbour Bridge’ for the traditional
fireworks display. This
constitutes a ‘front seat’ for the Harbour Bridge part of the (almost)
harbour long display. During
the rest of the year she also provides Sydney Siders, when alongside, with
an attractive venue for functions, and on any day of the week harbour
cruises, day or night with up to 150 passengers aboard, around that
spectacular harbour. [Harbour
with a small ‘h’ as the correct name for the harbour of Sydney is
‘Port Jackson’.] Her
open ocean sailing goes further than just day sails, as the volunteer crew
require more ocean sailing under training conditions that exclude the
carrying of the 80 day sail passengers.
Out in whatever the ocean has to offer on two or three day training
sails, or longer voyages visiting ports up and down the NSW coast and even
to Hobart in Tasmania and to Melbourne in Victoria.
With
her one hold configuration, 19th Century style (although a
modern engine room takes up much of the after end of the original hold)
the Australian Maritime Safety Authority only provides her with permission
to sail out to a distance of 30 nautical miles from a safe haven.
There was though some dispensation provided, in 2005, for the
traversing of Bass Strait to get to Hobart – provided that the forecast
for sea conditions were favourable for the crossing.
They weren’t favourable on the day, so the vessel remained in the
harbour of Two Fold Bay at Eden, an old whaling station town on the south
coast of NSW that she was visiting, for some extra hours of harbour
safety. This delay allowed the
vessel to avoid a 90 knot wind, reported by a large, and damaged,
passenger vessel, which happened to arrive in Bass Strait at the same day
as the storm. I was
lucky enough to be aboard on the longer voyages to and from Melbourne and
the return voyage from Hobart, and for a number of day sails out of those
ports. I have also been on a
number of voyages to NSW ports as well as the essential training voyages
out in the open ocean. While
in Port Phillip, close to the mouth of the Yarra River leading down from
the Port of Melbourne (where she had been tied up for the first time in
over 80 years) the James Craig became the start vessel (a cannon was
provided, and set on the fo’csul) for a ‘harbour race’ between the
six maxi yachts competing in a ‘round the world’ race (the 2006 Volvo
Round the World race) and became the centrepiece in an arc of spectator
vessels. The yachts had held a
similar ‘harbour race’ in South Africa on the way out from Britain –
part of the whole race format – and were to hold another in Rio on the
return leg to Britain. This
involvement with modern sailing ‘Cape Horners’ allowed us to see how
they approach such inherently dangerous conditions; information gleaned at
barbecues and other social event discussions with their crews.
Satellite imagery and weather and ice reports each hour while at
sea, allow the yachts to find ‘gates’ through bad conditions and so
avoid meeting extreme circumstances. With
speeds through the water in excess of 40 knots, one of the yachts had, in
open ocean on the outward journey, covered an equivalent distance of
Sydney to Hobart within 24 hours, it was necessary for the yachts to be
aware of impending conditions wherever they were on the open ocean –
even a minor collision at those speeds would have been dangerous.
[Oddly, when one of the large yachts took part in the next Sydney
to Hobart race, she lost her mast on the first night out!] The
best day of sailing so far for the restored James Craig was on the return
leg from Melbourne to Sydney, where a 40 knot wind on the quarter (the
wind gusts bringing the wind readings to almost a full storm on the
Beaufort scale) just as we rounded the corner into the Tasman Sea, saw us
sailing as fast as the vessel’s been able - with feathered twin screws -
since her recommissioning. Not
the speed that the maxi yachts are capable of, but a respectable speed
through the water for a cargo carrying vessel of the 19th
Century. It was
a magic time surfing down large seas just before sunset, with the last of
the sun making the sea turquoise and the spin drift, flying past on both
sides, multicoloured. She had
hardly any roll and glided (surfed) down the seas full tilt.
It was then possible to see exactly what such square rigged vessels
were designed for in the open ocean. During
restoration there was much debate as to whether she should be a stationary
'museum exhibit' or a full working vessel capable of sailing in the open
ocean. The final decision was for a seaworthy vessel capable of sailing as
she did in her working days - for which I'm very thankful. Unfortunately,
though, at that stage of the restoration it would have needed a major
refit of the hull to put in watertight bulkheads and so divide up the hold
- and keep her afloat after any holing in a collision.
So in the end she is a compromise, retaining 19th
Century features as far as possible, but, with motors, and modern safety
and navigation provisions, which allow her to fulfil modern regulations to
sail in the open ocean - but to stay within 30 nautical miles of a safe
haven. If internal bulkheads
were fitted to divide up her hold she would again be fit for sailing
around Cape Horn, her hull and rig certainly have the strength required
for such heavy seas, but perhaps her value as a working model of a 19th
Century cargo sailing vessel is too precious to be subjected to such a
test. The
James Craig was crewed, in her cargo days, by a Master, his wife, and 16
crew including 3 apprentices. But on mostly long sea legs, such a small
crew had ample time to set all sails, then, much later, hand them all in
(furl them) when coming into their destination port. But on day sails,
which are equivalent, in sail handling terms, to an ocean leg all in one
day, it requires more than twice that number in the crew to handle
everything in the time available and to look after some 80 passengers. On
longer voyages there are just over 60 aboard, including just 12 being
passengers. The passengers
having to sleep in the 'tweendecks' in replica migrant’s accommodation -
similar to cattle crates, but with bunks - and to gain a berth they have
to bid against one another on the Web.
Passengers are also invited to join the watches and be trained
along with the volunteer crew (so the long legs also become training
voyages). 8.
The
master’s cabin has a ‘19th Century’ ensuite (non
operational in its modern reconstruction) as the first master, on the
vessel’s maiden voyage, had his wife aboard and she was pregnant at the
time of departure. One of the
grandsons of the boy baby born aboard on the vessel’s first voyage, to
South America via the Horn in 1874, is among the volunteer crew aboard
today. The baby born aboard,
when he grew up, became a master mariner himself as did his son, and part
of the original vessel’s name at launch, ‘Macleod’, is still used as
a middle name for the eldest boy born to the family in each generation to
this day. 9.
Others who were children aboard the vessel in its cargo carrying
days were still alive, in Britain, when the James Craig was being
restored, so were able to contribute information about the vessel which
was useful for the marine architects and others involved in the work of
restoration. The
vessel’s rigging, and other external parts, were based on information
gleaned from an enlarged 1890’s glass plate photograph taken in New York
Harbour by a very keen, and very unusual, amateur woman photographer.
A print copy of that photograph graces a bulkhead in the master’s
cabin. Where
do we all sleep? Some are in
the original officers quarters and ‘Idlers’ (the non watch keepers -
bosun, sail maker, carpenter, steward) accommodation aft, the 12 working
passengers are housed in the ‘migrants accommodation, built from timber
slats and set in the ‘tweendecks, the on deck restored (steel) deck
house (deck crew accommodation on the original vessel) is usually occupied
by the cooks and stewards, and the large balance of volunteer crew sleep
in hammocks and stretcher beds in the ‘tweendecks.
All is very ‘cosy’ in there, boys and girls together,
individuals located according to the three sea watches (‘morning’,
‘afternoon’, and the old ‘dog watches’ combined into a ‘4 to 8
watch’) but there are large fans, set in the restored deck housing, to
keep up a flow of fresh air through all the below decks accommodation.
Toilet
and showering facilities are modern and set handily in the ‘tweendecks,
as is the modern galley and dining tables.
The main hatch is battened down at sea, and it is essential that
most of the ‘tweendecks are kept calm and quiet during the night, and
most of the day (apart from giggles as swinging hammocks occasionally bump
together, and the odd discordant snore reverberates off the deck head) as
crew and passengers catch up on much needed sleep.
Although in rough weather there is the occasional heavy thump as
one of the crew fall out of their hammock, usually due to them trying to
avoid the dripping of cold seawater onto their face, while half asleep,
which can happen at the start of a storm before the deck timbers expand
and become watertight. It can
also happen because the occupant of the hammock has drawn the hammock
ropes too tight so as to raise their hammock up high to reduce the swing
and to be able to lie in a straighter position; it’s then all too easy
to roll out. I prefer a low
slung hammock, and enjoy the swing even if it means being banana shape
while asleep – it beats falling out; or the alternative to be flung out
of one of the stretcher camp beds in a heavy roll and ending up rolling
along the ‘tween decking until meeting something hard.
There is, though, now a hammock design that crew may use to make
their own straight hammock – the roping and top edge of the
‘straight’ hammock are curved but the sleeping part beneath remains
level, so the sleeper doesn’t form a banana shape when asleep, it’s
then, when the hammock is made fast, just a matter of sliding in from one
end into your own private world. Body
harnesses worn on watch, a must under modern health and safety
regulations, are hung next to the modern galley down below, at the bottom
of the modern companion ladder going up to the deck, and those involved in
changing watch have to be as silent as possible when buckling up and
unbuckling – as do the ‘fire and flood’ checking watch keepers as
they wend their way, in potentially jangling harness on the half hour,
through all accommodation (squeezing past hammocks) and making it into the
lower hold via the ‘tweendecks. (As
plastics improve more of the metal parts of the harness are replaced, and
so harnesses become lighter, safer, and less noisy.
But as with most volunteers the camaraderie is high, so friction at
sea is rare.) Health
and safety regulations become ever more strict by the year, so that
climbers now have to ‘double clip’, onto the standing rigging, when
ascending the ratlines and then (as previously) clip onto safety lines at
the back of each yard when deploying out along the yards to hand the
sails. Exhilarating as the
work is aloft, double clipping does slow ascent, to the annoyance of many
old hands. Climbing systems
will no doubt change, as the years go by, and speeding up to the royals
(the highest square sails) will again become possible.
The
higher square sails of the two stacks, the main mast and the fore, are
light weather sails so the royals and t’gallants are furled as the wind
increases in strength – as are the coursers, the two large lower sails
on each stack. That leaves the
upper and lower tops’ls still set for heavy weather.
The fore and aft sails on the third mast, the mizzen, are there for
balance (and a few other purposes in the days of having no motors) so the
spanker and the mizzen topmast sail are also furled in heavy weather - the
fores’ls, the foremast staysail the inner and outer jibs and the flying
jib, made fast along the jib boom, are also reduced in number.
That‘s
how the vessel’s rig was set, just four tops’ls and two jibs, when
surfing down those seas in the 40 knotter on the way back from Melbourne. Thinking
back on that good sail, where the following seas were well above the
quarter deck and threatened to ‘poop’ the lot, helmsman, officer of
the watch, captains runner, and others on the quarter deck (hence the term
‘poop deck’ for the quarter deck)
but our forward motion, down the long seas kept the quarter deck
safe. I
have, though, experienced seas that would have topped the main mast of the
James Craig – in the wintery North Atlantic on my first voyage.
In that winter storm the lifeboats on the weather side, of a much
larger vessel than the James Craig, were smashed against their davits on
the boat deck and the deck cargo of timber, from Oregon and Washington,
held with good sized chains, was left leaning out over the lee side; the
chains stretched and the links squeezed to their limit.
The wartime built steamship was strong and held together, but we
estimated that at least one sea, which topped way, way, above the
foremast, was some 130 feet from trough to the top of the surf breaking
high above the foredeck. The
foredeck was definitely out of bounds in that storm, but in moving about
outside on any deck it required good timing to get down and inside a heavy
metal storm door, into the accommodation at main deck level, and so avoid
being punched by a sea out of a gap between the deck cargo of timber and a
bulkhead, way out overboard, like a shot from a cannon.
[That steamship was then in dock for repairs lasting 9 months.] The
main mast of the James Craig is 100 feet, so with some 7 feet of freeboard
its truck would, in that storm, have been under more than 20 feet of
seawater! Opened deck sailing
vessels of the period would have had netting rigged along the lee side
(crew climb aloft up the weather side ratlines) to strain the watch on
deck out of any heavy wash – but I wouldn’t have liked being under
more than a 100 feet of wild and turbulent seawater in very cold
conditions if the whole vessel became ‘pooped’.
A sailing vessel with storm sails set would also be in danger of
being ‘knocked down’ in such weather – that is onto her beam ends;
hopefully righting as the running gear gave way and the sails emptied of
wind. The
seas around Cape Horn are capable of such large surf, and the Volvo Around
The World yachtsmen passed on reports to us of surf in the Southern Ocean
being measured (from aircraft or satellites) at around 130 feet. Researchers
tell us that the ‘Antarctic Vortex’, the system of winds that surround
the continent of Antarctica, is increasing in ferocity as climate change
advances (which may be why the Southern Ocean is absorbing so much CO2;
leading to a fall in the quantity of krill and other shell fish there).
It
seems that the 18th Century start of the Industrial Revolution
seeded a breeze and our 21st Century world community is about
to harvest a ‘whirlwind’. All
such things are discussed in depth aboard the James Craig.
With volunteers and passengers coming from all walks of life,
conversation at table, on deck, and aloft is rich and varied.
This makes for an interesting life as many topics, deep and
shallow, are covered when conditions allow.
Although
it’s no good trying to converse on life the universe and everything when
the wind is screaming through the rig, and crew, hard put to shout against
the wind, are battling the elements trying to master rope and sail.
When
beating to windward, usually in the open ocean, timing is of the essence.
Working to tack or wear ship (yachties call it ‘gybing’, not
wearing, when bringing the wind around the stern of a small vessel) the
crew have to brace around, in turn, the square rigged stacks of the fore
and main masts, and the fore and aft sails of the mizzen mast, at the
right moments (brining the yards around in unison) - the fors’ls of the
jib boom also being sheeting around at a precise moment in the overall
manoeuvre. Tacking is a little
harder in the James Craig’s modern configuration, with her feathered
screws acting as moderate brakes, so wearing ship is practiced a little
more often than tacking. Many
see a sailing ship on the open ocean as a metaphor for life, wherein we
(humanity) ‘tack’ back and forth between too much certainty and too
much doubt. Yet, for all of us
trying to live without certainty, in that liminal and fertile place
between certainty and doubt, it is appropriate to take action and not
being paralysed by hesitation, which is the essence of both proceeding
under sail and living a worthwhile and productive life.
But that’s enough philosophy - something which is sometimes
discussed aboard, along with all the arts, sciences, and much else, as
some volunteers are from universities and research establishments in
addition to those from a broader spread of livelihoods; including those in
retirement and semiretirement in their many guises. Yet it
can be said that modern thinking brings us more uncertainty - but also
more freedom - as researchers bring into question some of our accepted
(cherished) fundamentals of life and the world around us.
The constants of physics, unquestioned by science until recently,
are now themselves being questioned. Where
do such laws of nature (including the constants of physics and
mathematics) come from? And
are they really constant? Do
they come from within our universe or from without?
Astro physicists would find that last question illogical, but
theologians, who may feel a little more certain about the origin of
everything, wouldn’t perhaps see the need to raise it in the first
place. Our prized human
constant of free will is also being questioned.
Hard nosed bio-neuro-determinists would claim that we have no free
will; theologians again would press for the opposite view.
Whereas biological systems researchers would admit that free will
is something which may emerge from complexity.
To
have more certainty, and less freedom, would place us all back in the
thinking of the 19th and 20th centuries, when an
excess of certainty led to some extreme forms of social and political
control. Those
aboard enjoy exercising the old sailing technology, such as heaving on
ropes to work the sails and the yards – the James Craig is about the
size that such square riggers reached before the larger wind ships, being
constructed at the turn of the 20th Century, required sailing
rig technology to advance and supply better purchase, on lines, through
the development and use of iron hand winches – but though experiencing
19th Century technology most aboard would prefer 21st
Century thinking and the freedom of mind that it brings. Such
musings can occur when on lookout on the focsul at night, under a starry
dome and a faint dark ocean, with perhaps lightening flashing in a distant
storm, a shooting star, or dolphins leaving streaks of phosphorescent glow
as they play under the bow – after a day of stimulating discussion.
Though
reading some of the letters to home written by crew of the James Craig in
the early 20th Century, and preserved by people in New Zealand,
the crew’s thoughts at that time may have been concerned with more of
the everyday world - perhaps coloured by their stricter Christian
upbringing. Many
duties aboard preclude too much thinking. For example while at the helm,
the reality of being under sail, with perhaps ‘a star to steer her
by’, occupies your thoughts. As
there is a need, when sailing ‘full and by’, for the helmsman (or
woman) to keep an eye on the highest square sail set in the mainmast stack
(each higher sail in the stacks, on the masts carrying squares, are set a
little more closely to the wind; in a corkscrew fashion) so that you can
bring her off the wind just a little as that topmost sail begins to luff
(spill its wind) well before those lower in the stack.
That way the most energy may be gained from lighter winds on such
wind ships. [The navigator’s
‘yoeman’, in the chart room – down below in what was the vessel’s
food store, next to the sail locker aft – may also view the track of the
vessel through the water on a screen, part of modern satellite navigation,
so lack of concentration by a helmsman becomes obvious; and the record
remains there for some hours before passing off screen.] The
romance of it all isn’t lost on those aboard, when conditions are quiet
with just enough wind to make good headway.
We volunteers are all (and probably most passengers as well)
enthused by the idea of keeping such a romantic vessel of the past alive
and functioning – and in the process helping it to pay its own way. Even
the young are included in this; when in the series of, mainly weekend,
‘sleepovers’ for groups of school aged children – scout, school, and
other groups – when alongside, the youngsters experience a night aboard
a 133 year old vessel, and undertake some handling of the rigging and
other ‘duties’ followed by sleeping in hammocks (well as much as their
excitement allows) until they are roused to wash the decks and afterwards
sit down to a hearty breakfast. Maritime
regulations prevent us from taking children younger than 12 years of age
out to sea. Health
and safety wasn’t high on the agenda in the 19th Century,
when loss of life at sea was seen as acceptable – for passengers and
crew of any age! Most crew lost in storms were swept off the jib boom, but
death and injury occurred in many ways on such vessels.
And still those Industries that rely on people being at sea, or on
any open water, suffer the heaviest loss of life of any industry - even in
the 21st Century. When
it comes to danger from storms, it is now possible to download images of
the ocean surface so that navigators can ‘con’ a vessel through
quieter patches of water to avoid storms, giant waves, and any wayward
ice. Besides the loss of crew,
and others aboard, many wind ships just vanished out in the open ocean –
and not just in the Bermuda Triangle – as so called ‘rogue waves’
took them by surprise. Satellite
imagery has now shown that such large waves are in a pattern all over an
area of ocean in any storm fierce enough to raise them, so avoiding large
waves was previously just a matter of luck.
Those with the luck survived as their vessel was ‘knocked down’
but managed to right itself again. Being
holing in any way, or any breaching of the hatches, led to rapid flooding
of the hold – and if cargo wasn’t well made fast, or loaded correctly,
any movement would hamper the vessel in righting itself (as happened to
the large square rigger Pamir, when she rapidly sank in a storm off the
Azores in 1957, with the loss of all but six of her crew; mainly cadets
under training.) The
James Craig has no cadets but has taken up the sail training of midshipmen
(boys and girls) from the Australian Defence Force Academy in Canberra.
A weeks training alongside, for each group, and then a weekend sail
up the coast and to an anchorage overnight, in a location where they can
carry out an exercise ashore, before sailing back down to Sydney.
The volunteer crew meanwhile, enjoying a quiet barbecue aboard, as
we tend to do when at anchor; after the exercise of lifting one of the
heavy Admiralty Anchors over the side with the aid of the giant block and
tackle of a ‘fish burton’. On
longer voyages a ‘Sods Opera’ is staged while at anchor after a long
sailing leg, where the imagination and surprising talents of the crew are
exercised – often after a swim over the side for those with no apparent
fear of sharks (they, the sharks, tend to come into harbours and rivers to
feed in the early morning and in the evening).
The main hatch cover, where the such ‘Operas’ are performed
while at anchor, finds another use while at sea on a sail training run, as
those suffering from mal de mare tend to stretch out in their suffering in
an apparent imitation of a seal colony! Income
generated from the frequent sailing, plus harbour cruises and functions
held aboard (including such events as marriage ceremonies and receptions,
various dinners, organised parties and presentations) and the fees raised
from visitors coming aboard for a guided tour when alongside, allows the
vessel to break even with her running costs and upkeep.
(Happily the spread of sponsorship, during the long years of
restoration, covered all original restoration costs, so there is no debt
from that period to be repaid.) Much
of the vessel’s maintenance is carried out by the volunteer crew, when
she is alongside – and a static museum exhibit.
That entails never ending jobs of repair, reconditioning, and
replacement, requiring many skills. Running
gear and sail repairs often occur while at sea on the longer voyages.
So, apart from annual slipping (dry docking for hull cleaning and
painting) the maintenance costs are kept to a minimum.
This financial situation is very sound, and a slightly unusual
position for such a vessel to be in, as square riggers are costly to
maintain – and even more costly to maintain when carrying out a full
sailing schedule, where wear and tear on sails and gear can lead such
vessels to accrue a very heavy financial burden. This
very happy situation is, again, very lucky for me, as I enjoy the open
ocean and being aloft to hand the sails – may be not ‘enjoy’ in
extreme conditions, but in most that the James Craig faces in her present
day guise of a working museum square rigger.
The testing times, though, are what bind the crew together – and
most of the volunteers, boys and girls, and including those still in the
workforce and those who have outgrown it, would be there for a testing
trip around the Horn; and that includes me. Dennis the Sail Appendices/Notes:
Ship’s
dog, Rusty. SHF
online links : http://pandora.nla.gov.au/pan/10574/20010607-0000/www.seaheritage.asn.au/jamescraig/indexa3c8.html
|
.jpg)
