and carried back naval stores and other southern products. Well-to-do fishermen owned trading vessels and sent out their ventures, the sailors shifting from one forecastle to the other. With a taste for an easier life than the stormy, freezing Banks, the young Gloucesterman would sign on for a voyage to Pernambuco or Havana and so be fired with ambition to become a mate or master and take to deep water after a while. In this way was maintained a school of seamanship which furnished the most intelligent and efficient officers of the merchant marine. For generations they were mostly recruited from the old fishing and shipping ports of New England until the term “Yankee shipmaster” had a meaning peculiarly its own.
Seafaring has undergone so many revolutionary changes and old days and ways are so nearly obliterated that it is singular to find the sailing vessel still employed in great numbers, even though the gasolene motor is being installed to kick her along in spells of calm weather. The Gloucester fishing schooner, perfect of her type, stanch, fleet, and powerful, still drives homeward from the Banks under a tall press of canvas, and her crew still divide the earnings, share and share, as did their forefathers a hundred and fifty years ago. But the old New England strain of blood no longer predominates, and Portuguese, Scandinavians, and Nova Scotia “Bluenoses” bunk with the lads of Gloucester stock. Yet they are alike for courage, hardihood, and mastery of the sea, and the traditions of the calling are undimmed.
There was a time before the Civil War when Congress jealously protected the fisheries by means of a bounty system and legislation aimed against our Canadian neighbors. The fishing fleets were regarded as a source of national wealth and the nursery of prime seamen for the navy and merchant marine. In 1858 the bounty system was abandoned, however, and the fishermen were left to shift for themselves, earning small profits at peril of their lives and preferring to follow the sea because they knew no other profession. In spite of this loss of assistance from the Government, the tonnage engaged in deep-sea fisheries was never so great as in the second year of the Civil War. Four years later the industry had shrunk one-half; and it has never recovered its early importance*
* In 1882, the tonnage amounted to 193,459; in 1866, to 89,336.
The coastwise merchant trade, on the other hand, has been jealously guarded against competition and otherwise fostered ever since 1789, when the first discriminatory tonnage tax was enforced. The Embargo Act of 1808 prohibited domestic commerce to foreign flags, and this edict was renewed in the American Navigation Act of 1817. It remained a firmly established doctrine of maritime policy until the Great War compelled its suspension as an emergency measure. The theories of protection and free trade have been bitterly debated for generations, but in this instance the practice was eminently successful and the results were vastly impressive. Deepwater shipping dwindled and died, but the increase in coastwise sailing was consistent. It rose to five million tons early in this century and makes the United States still one of the foremost maritime powers in respect to saltwater activity.
To speak of this deep-water shipping as trade coastwise is misleading, in a way. The words convey an impression of dodging from port to port for short distances, whereas many of the voyages are longer than those of the foreign routes in European waters. It is farther by sea from Boston to Philadelphia than from Plymouth, England, to Bordeaux. A schooner making the run from Portland to Savannah lays more knots over her stern than a tramp bound out from England to Lisbon. It is a shorter voyage from Cardiff to Algiers than an American skipper pricks off on his chart when he takes his steamer from New York to New Orleans or Galveston. This coastwise trade may lack the romance of the old school of the square-rigged ship in the Roaring Forties, but it has always been the more perilous and exacting. Its seamen suffer hardships unknown elsewhere, for they have to endure winters of intense cold and heavy gales and they are always in risk of stranding or being driven ashore.
The story of these hardy men is interwoven, for the most part, with the development of the schooner in size and power. This graceful craft, so peculiar to its own coast and people, was built for utility and possessed a simple beauty of its own when under full sail. The schooners were at first very small because it was believed that large fore-and-aft sails could not be handled with safety. They were difficult to reef or lower in a blow until it was discovered that three masts instead of two made the task much easier. For many years the three-masted schooner was the most popular kind of American merchant vessel. They clustered in every Atlantic port and were built in the yards of New England, New York, New Jersey, and Virginia,–built by the mile, as the saying was, and sawed off in lengths to suit the owners’ pleasure. They carried the coal, ice, lumber of the whole seaboard and were so economical of man-power that they earned dividends where steamers or square-rigged ships would not have paid for themselves.
As soon as a small steam-engine was employed to hoist the sails, it became possible to launch much larger schooners and to operate them at a marvelously low cost. Rapidly the four-master gained favor, and then came the five- and six-masted vessels, gigantic ships of their kind. Instead of the hundred-ton schooner of a century ago, Hampton Roads and Boston Harbor saw these great cargo carriers which could stow under hatches four and five thousand tons of coal, and whose masts soared a hundred and fifty feet above the deck. Square-rigged ships of the same capacity would have required crews of a hundred men, but these schooners were comfortably handled by a company of fifteen all told, only ten of whom were in the forecastle. There was no need of sweating and hauling at braces and halliards. The steam-winch undertook all this toil. The tremendous sails, stretching a hundred feet from boom to gaff could not have been managed otherwise. Even for trimming sheets or setting topsails, it was necessary merely to take a turn or two around the drum of the winch engine and turn the steam valve. The big schooner was the last word in cheap, efficient transportation by water. In her own sphere of activity she was as notable an achievement as the Western Ocean packet or the Cape Horn clipper.
The masters who sailed these extraordinary vessels also changed and had to learn a new kind of seamanship. They must be very competent men, for the tests of their skill and readiness were really greater than those demanded of the deepwater skipper. They drove these great schooners alongshore winter and summer; across Nantucket Shoals and around Cape Cod, and their salvation depended on shortening sail ahead of the gale. Let the wind once blow and the sea get up, and it was almost impossible to strip the canvas off an unwieldy six-master. The captain’s chief fear was of being blown offshore, of having his vessel run away with him! Unlike the deep-water man, he preferred running in toward the beach and letting go his anchors. There he would ride out the storm and hoist sail when the weather moderated.
These were American shipmasters of the old breed, raised in schooners as a rule, and adapting themselves to modern conditions. They sailed for nominal wages and primage, or five per cent of the gross freight paid the vessel. Before the Great War in Europe, freights were low and the schooner skippers earned scanty incomes. Then came a world shortage of tonnage and immediately coastwise freights soared skyward. The big schooners of the Palmer fleet began to reap fabulous dividends and their masters shared in the unexpected opulence. Besides their primage they owned shares in their vessels, a thirty-second or so, and presently their settlement at the end of a voyage coastwise amounted to an income of a thousand dollars a month. They earned this money, and the managing owners cheerfully paid them, for there had been lean years and uncomplaining service and the sailor had proved himself worthy of his hire. So tempting was the foreign war trade, that a fleet of them was sent across the Atlantic until the American Government barred them from the war zone as too easy a prey for submarine attack. They therefore returned to the old coastwise route or loaded for South American ports–singularly interesting ships because they were the last bold venture of the old American maritime spirit, a challenge to the Age of Steam.
No more of these huge, towering schooners have been built in the last dozen years. Steam colliers and barges have won the fight because time is now more valuable than cheapness of transportation. The schooner might bowl down to Norfolk from Boston or Portland in four days and be threshing about for two weeks in head winds on the return voyage.
The small schooner appeared to be doomed somewhat earlier. She had ceased to be profitable in competition with the larger, more modern fore-and-after, but these battered, veteran craft died hard. They harked back to a simpler age, to the era of the stage-coach and the spinning-wheel, to the little shipyards that were to be found on every bay and inlet of New England. They were still owned and sailed by men who ashore were friends and neighbors. Even now you may find during your summer wanderings some stumpy, weatherworn two-master running on for shelter overnight, which has plied up and down the coast for fifty or sixty years, now leaking like a basket and too frail for winter voyages. It was in a craft very much like this that your rude ancestors went privateering against the British. Indeed, the little schooner Polly, which fought briskly in the War of 1812, is still afloat and loading cargoes in New England ports.
These little coasters, surviving long after the stately merchant marine had vanished from blue water, have enjoyed a slant of favoring fortune in recent years. They, too, have been in demand, and once again there is money to spare for paint and cordage and calking. They have been granted a new lease of life and may be found moored at the wharfs, beached on the marine railways, or anchored in the stream, eagerly awaiting their turn to refit. It is a matter of vital concern that the freight on spruce boards from Bangor to New York has increased to five dollars a thousand feet. Many of these craft belong to grandfatherly skippers who dared not venture past Cape Cod in December, lest the venerable Matilda Emerson or the valetudinarian Joshua R. Coggswell should open up and founder in a blow. During the winter storms these skippers used to hug the kitchen stove in bleak farmhouses until spring came and they could put to sea again. The rigor of circumstances, however, forced others to seek for trade the whole year through. In a recent winter fifty-seven schooners were lost on the New England coast, most of which were unfit for anything but summer breezes. As by a miracle, others have been able to renew their youth, to replace spongy planking and rotten stems, and to deck themselves out in white canvas and fresh paint!
The captains of these craft foregather in the ship-chandler’s shops, where the floor is strewn with sawdust, the armchairs are capacious, and the environment harmonizes with the tales that are told. It is an informal club of coastwise skippers and the old energy begins to show itself once more. They move with a brisker gait than when times were so hard and they went begging for charters at any terms. A sinewy patriarch stumps to a window, flourishes his arm at an ancient two-master, and booms out:
“That vessel of mine is as sound as a nut, I tell ye. She ain’t as big as some, but I’d like nothin’ better than to fill her full of suthin’ for the west coast of Africy, same as the Horace M. Bickford that cleared t’other day, stocked for SIXTY THOUSAND DOLLARS.”
“Huh, you’d get lost out o’ sight of land, John,” is the cruel retort, “and that old shoe-box of yours ‘ud be scared to death without a harbor to run into every time the sun clouded over. Expect to navigate to Africy with an alarm-clock and a soundin’-lead, I presume.”
“Mebbe I’d better let well enough alone,” replies the old man. “Africy don’t seem as neighborly as Phippsburg and Machiasport. I’ll chance it as far as Philadelphy next voyage and I guess the old woman can buy a new dress.”
The activity and the reawakening of the old shipyards, their slips all filled with the frames of wooden vessels for the foreign trade, is like a revival of the old merchant marine, a reincarnation of ghostly memories. In mellowed dignity the square white houses beneath the New England elms recall to mind the mariners who dwelt therein. It seems as if their shipyards also belonged to the past; but the summer visitor finds a fresh attraction in watching the new schooners rise from the stocks, and the gay pageant of launching them, every mast ablaze with bunting, draws crowds to the water-front. And as a business venture, with somewhat of the tang of old-fashioned romance, the casual stranger is now and then tempted to purchase a sixty-fourth “piece” of a splendid Yankee four-master and keep in touch with its roving fortunes. The shipping reports of the daily newspaper prove more fascinating than the ticker tape, and the tidings of a successful voyage thrill one with a sense of personal gratification. For the sea has not lost its magic and its mystery, and those who go down to it in ships must still battle against elemental odds–still carry on the noble and enduring traditions of the Old Merchant Marine.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
As a rule, American historians like McMaster, Adams, and Rhodes give too little space to the maritime achievements of the nation. The gap has been partially filled by the following special works:
Winthrop L. Marvin, “The American Merchant Marine: Its History and Romance from 1620 to 1902” (1902). This is the most nearly complete volume of its kind by an author who knows the subject and handles it with accuracy.
John R. Spears, “The Story of the American Merchant Marine” (1910), “The American Slave Trade” (1901), “The Story of the New England Whalers” (1908). Mr. Spears has sought original sources for much of his material and his books are worth reading, particularly his history of the slave-trade.
Ralph D. Paine, “The Ships and Sailors of Old Salem: The Record of a Brilliant Era of American Achievement” (1912). A history of the most famous seaport of the Atlantic coast, drawn from log-books and other manuscript collections. “The Book of Buried Treasure: Being a True History of the Gold, Jewels, and Plate of Pirates, Galleons, etc.” (1911). Several chapters have to do with certain picturesque pirates and seamen of the colonies.
Edgar S. Maclay, “A History of American Privateers” (1899). The only book of its kind, and indispensable to those who wish to learn the story of Yankee ships and sailors.
J. R. Hutchinson, “The Press Gang Afloat and Ashore” (1914). This recent volume, written from an English point of view, illuminates the system of conscription which caused the War of 1812.
Nothing can take the place, however, of the narratives of those master mariners who made the old merchant marine famous:
Richard Henry Dana, Jr., “Two Years Before the Mast” (1840). The latest edition, handsomely illustrated, (1915). The classic narrative of American forecastle life in the sailing-ship era.
Captain Richard Cleveland, “Narrative of Voyages and Commercial Enterprises” (1842). This is one of the fascinating autobiographies of the old school of shipmasters who had the gift of writing.
Captain Amasa Delano, “Narrative of Voyages and Travels” (1817). Another of the rare human documents of blue water. It describes the most adventurous period of activity, a century ago.
Captain Arthur H. Clark, “The Clipper Ship Era” (1910). A thrilling, spray-swept, true story. Far and away the best account of the clipper, by a man who was an officer of one in his youth.
Robert Bennet Forbes, “Notes on Ships of the Past” (1888). Random facts and memories of a famous Boston ship-owner. It is valuable for its records of noteworthy passages.
Captain John D. Whidden, “Ocean Life in the Old Sailing Ship Days” (1908). The entertaining reminiscences of a veteran shipmaster.
Captain A. W. Nelson, “Yankee Swanson: Chapters from a Life at Sea” (1913). Another of the true romances, recommended for a lively sense of humor and a faithful portrayal of life aboard a windjammer.
There are many other personal narratives, some of them privately printed and very old, which may be found in the libraries. Typical of them is “A Journal of the Travels and Sufferings of Daniel Saunders” (1794), in which a young sailor relates his adventures after shipwreck on the coast of Arabia.
Among general works the following are valuable:
J. Grey Jewell, “Among Our Sailors” (1874). A plea for more humane treatment of American seamen, with many instances on shocking brutalities as reported to the author, who was a United States Consul.
E. Keble Chatterton, “Sailing Ships: The Story of their Development” (1909). An elaborate history of the development of the sailing vessel from the earliest times to the modern steel clipper.
W. S. Lindsay, “History of Merchant Shipping and Ancient Commerce,” 4 vols. (1874-76). An English work, notably fair to the American marine, and considered authoritative.
Douglas Owen, “Ocean Trade and Shipping” (1914). An English economist explains the machinery of maritime trade and commerce.
William Wood, “All Afloat.” In “The Chronicles of Canada Series.” Glasgow, Brook and Co., Toronto, 1914.
J. B. McMaster, “The Life and Times of Stephen Girard, Mariner and Merchant,” 2 vols. (1918).
The relation of governmental policy to the merchant marine is discussed by various writers:
David A. Wells, “Our Merchant Marine: How It Rose, Increased, Became Great, Declined, and Decayed” (1882). A political treatise in defense of a protective policy.
William A. Bates, “American Marine: The Shipping Question in History and Politics” (1892); “American Navigation: The Political History of Its Rise and Ruin” (1902). These works are statistical and highly technical, partly compiled from governmental reports, and are also frankly controversial.
Henry Hall, “American Navigation, With Some Account of the Causes of Its Former Prosperity and Present Decline” (1878).
Charles S. Hill, “History of American Shipping: Its Prestige, Decline, and Prospect” (1883).
J. D. J. Kelley, “The Question of Ships: The Navy and the Merchant Marine” (1884).
Arthur J. Maginnis, “The Atlantic Ferry: Its Ships, Men, and Working” (1900).
A vast amount of information is to be found in the Congressional Report of the Merchant Marine Commission, published in three volumes (1905).