“Ben Cruachan” and “Ben Voirlich.”
These two splendid sister ships were amongst the hardest driven of those in the Melbourne trade. They carried saloon, second cabin and steerage passengers out and wool home—and there was no snugging down for the convenience of the sorely tried emigrants with such skippers as Captains Bully Martin and McPetrie.
On her maiden passage, Ben Cruachan, under Bully Martin, left the Clyde on 5th October, 1873, passed the Tuskar light on 7th October, crossed the equator 26 days out in 24° 30′ W., crossed the meridian of the Cape on 21st November in 46° 30′ S., and running her easting down averaged 300 miles a day from the Crozets to the Leeuwin between 27th November and 6th December. On 13th December she arrived in Hobson’s Bay, 67 days out from the Tuskar. This passage, however, was cast in the shade by Ben Voirlich’s run in 1874-5 on her second voyage, and on her maiden passage Ben Voirlich only took two days longer from the Tuskar than her sister ship.
Ben Voirlich, on her maiden passage, left Glasgow under Captain McPetrie, on 3rd January, 1874. But she was held up at Greenock by bad weather until the 26th and did not pass the Tuskar until the 27th. From the Tuskar she had 15 days of head winds, crossing the equator on 19th February in 26° 30′ W. The Cape meridian was passed on 15th March and the Otway on 5th April. Her best work was between the 15th and 27th March, when she averaged 12½ knots. She arrived in Hobson’s Bay on 6th April, 69 days out from the Tuskar.
On her second trip, Ben Voirlich left Gravesend on the 9th November, Plymouth on 11th November, but was held up in the mouth of the Channel over the 12th. She crossed the equator on 1st December in 31° 20′ W.; crossed the Cape meridian on 24th December, in 45° S., and ran down her easting on the parallel of 46° 30′, her best 24-hour run being 352 miles. She arrived in Port Phillip on 14th January, 64 days out from Plymouth.
From pilot to anchorage Captain McPetrie claimed to have broken Thermoplyae’s record; and on Thermopylae arriving in Melbourne on 4th February, only 64 days out from the Lizards, a fine wrangle started.
It was a specially favourable season, and Ben Voirlich was very hard driven, indeed in the roaring forties her main deck was never free of water, and the midship house and half-deck were water-logged all the time. She possessed a very hard nut of a mate, a bald-headed man with a great red beard, who was a very fine seaman. But he had no mercy on the boys, his usual greeting to a delicate-looking first voyage apprentice being “Have your people sent you to sea to escape funeral expenses or what?”
The Ben Voirlich had a winch just aft of her midship house, to which the fore braces were taken in the following way. The fore brace had a wire pennant with a gin block on its end. A chain was shackled to the ship’s side, then led through the gin block and down again through the bulwarks to the winch and so on to the other fore brace, thus making an endless chain. It had stoppers on it on each side to keep a little slack. In bracing the yard, it took in on one side and gave out the other, and only needed two men to work it.
| SPAR PLAN OF BEN CRUACHAN AND BEN VOIRLICH. | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Spars | Fore | Main | Mizen | |
Mast—deck to truck | 139 feet | 143½ feet | 115 feet | |
Lower mast | 60 ft. | 64½ ft. | 50½ ft. | |
Doubling | 16 ft. | 16 ft. | 13½ ft. | |
Topmast | 54½ ft. | 54½ ft. | 43½ ft. | |
Doubling | 12 ft. | 11½ ft. | 9 ft. | |
Topgallant mast | 30½ ft. | 30½ ft. | 26 ft. | |
Royal mast | 21 ft. | 21 ft. | 18 ft. | |
Lower yard | 84 ft. | 84 ft. | 70½ ft. | |
Lower topsail yard | 73 ft. | 73 ft. | 59 ft. | |
Upper topsail yard | 70½ ft. | 70½ ft. | 57 ft. | |
Lower topgallant yard | 58½ ft. | 58½ ft. | 45 ft. | |
Upper topgallant yard | 56 ft. | 56 ft. | 43 ft. | |
Royal yard | 43 ft. | 44 ft. | 35 ft. | |
| Jibboom 70 ft. | Spanker boom 51 ft. | Spanker gaff 36 ft. | ||
Though she made many good passages, she never again approached the time of her second outward passage. On her homeward passage in 1878 she broached to when running heavy to the westward of the Horn and was nearly lost. This occurred on the 18th November. A very big sea was running, and the helmsman, a Dutchman, let go the wheel from sheer fright. As the ship broached to a huge wave broke over her quarter. This avalanche of water smashed in the break of the poop, gutted the cabin, and took nine men overboard. For an hour the ship lay over on her beam ends dragging her lower yards in the water, entirely out of control. Two men who happened to be at work on the lee fore yardarm were actually washed off it. One of them was lost overboard, but the other caught the rail and lay there head downwards, being held from going further by the chain fore sheet. An apprentice managed to get to him and grab hold, but the next moment a sea swept over them, and whilst the apprentice was washed inboard, the man was never seen again. The same apprentice happened to be washed up against the winch, to which he clung like a limpet; and then, as the old white-bearded sailmaker was hurled by him in the cross wash of the sea, caught the old man and held on to him or he would have gone overboard.
The brave ship struggled gamely; three times she brought her spars to windward, and three times she was laid flat again. The whole of her topgallant rail and bulwarks were washed away, together with everything of a movable nature on the deck. At last after a whole hour of desperate fighting, they managed to get the wheel up, and the clipper slowly righted herself as she fell off and brought the wind astern.
Captain Ovenstone, who was in command at the time, spoke several ships in the Atlantic and told them of his near shave. One of these reported it to a homeward-bound steamer, the consequence was that when the Ben Voirlich arrived those on board found their parents and relations in a great state of mind, not knowing who had been amongst the nine victims and who was safe.
“COLLINGWOOD.”
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“SAMUEL PLIMSOLL.”
Photo lent by F. G. Layton.
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In 1885 the Ben Voirlich had almost as bad an experience to the southward of the Cape of Good Hope, when bound out to Melbourne under Captain Bully Martin. At 8 a.m. on the 6th August a terrific squall from W.N.W. struck the vessel and in a moment the foresail had blown to rags. By 10 a.m. it was blowing a hurricane, the ship scudding before it under fore and main lower topsails. An hour later a tremendous sea pooped her, and washed away the two helmsmen and Captain Martin who was conning them. Captain Martin and the quartermaster, a man named Scott, were swept up against a hen coop, which was lashed up to the bucket rail at the break of the poop, with such force as to smash it to pieces; but it saved them from going over the side. As soon as they could pick themselves up, they made a dash for the wheel, which they found smashed in two and only hung together by its brass rim. Scott held the wheel whilst Captain Martin cleared away the broken part, which was jamming it, and they were just in time to save the ship from broaching to. The lee wheel, a foreigner, had meanwhile got into the mizen rigging and lashed himself with the turned up gear. The seas now broke over the ship in a continuous cascade, and the Ben Voirlich could only be worked from the poop and foc’slehead, to which the crew succeeded in leading the braces. All that night a wild sea looted the ship. Both the standard and steering compasses were swept overboard. The port lifeboat on the skids was smashed to pulp; the topgallant bulwarks were stripped off her, and the poop ladders, harness casks, hen coops, handspikes and such like were all carried off by the tremendous sea.
As soon as daylight broke, they managed to lash up and repair the wheel; then the second class passengers were moved from the midship house to the poop, as Captain Martin feared that the house would be burst in and gutted by the seas raging aboard over the broken bulwarks. But again the Ben Voirlich safely weathered it out, and four weeks later dropped anchor in Hobson’s Bay.
The two famous Bens were kept in the Melbourne trade until 1885. Then in 1886 both ships went to Sydney, the Ben Cruachan in 90 days and the Ben Voirlich in 94 days. But in 1887 they bade a final good-bye to the wool trade and went into the San Francisco wheat trade. Ben Voirlich left London on 22nd May and arrived Frisco on 23rd September—124 days out. This was a very good run for the westward passage round the Horn.
The Ben Cruachan was not so fortunate. She left the Tyne on 4th May and did not arrive in San Francisco Bay until 15th October—164 days out.
The Ben Cruachan ended her days under the Mexican flag and was known as the Carmela, and I believe she still does duty as a hulk in a Mexican port.
The Ben Voirlich was sold to the Germans in 1891 and converted into a barque. In 1903 the Germans sold her to the Italians, who renamed her the Cognati. During the winter of 1908 she was badly damaged by collision with an iceberg off the Horn, but managed to make port. She can now be seen at Leith, where she is serving as a domicile for the crews of surrendered German ships. Here she lies a mast-less hulk, covered with deck-houses, but fitted below with electric light and every comfort.
These two sister ships were very evenly matched. Though not as fast as some of the iron wool clippers, they made up for it by hard driving and generally managed to get home in well under three figures.