James Baines, of the Black Ball Line.
The Black Ball Line, the most celebrated line of passenger ships, perhaps, in its day, owned its existence to a little self-made man named James Baines. And the Black Ball Line would never have become the great concern that it was in its palmy days if it had not been for this man’s foresight and enterprise. He, it was, who realised the genius of the great American shipbuilder, Donald Mackay, and gave him an order for four ships, the like of which the world had never seen before—ships which knowing men in the business pronounced to be too big and likely to prove mere white elephants once the first rush of gold seekers was over. However, James Baines, although he was but a young man of barely thirty, had the courage of his convictions, and he proved to be in the right, for it was these big Mackay clippers which really made the reputation of the Black Ball Line.
James Baines was a very lively, little man, fair with reddish hair. His vitality was abnormal and he had an enthusiastic flow of talk. Of an eager, generous disposition, his hand was ever in his pocket for those in trouble; and he was far from being the cool, hard-headed type of business man. He was as open as the day and hail-fellow-well-met with everybody, nevertheless his far-sightedness and his eager driving power carried him to the top in so phenomenally short a time that his career has become a sort of romantic legend in Liverpool.
He was born in Upper Duke Street, Liverpool, where his mother kept a cake and sweet shop, in which many a present-day Liverpool shipowner can remember stuffing himself as a boy. Indeed, Mrs. Baines had such a reputation that she is said to have made one of the wedding cakes for the marriage of Queen Victoria.
The following is the most generally-accepted story of James Baines’ first venture in ship-owning. In 1851 a dirty-looking ship with stumpy masts and apple-cheeked bows lay in the Queen’s Dock, Liverpool, with a broom at her masthead, thus indicating that she was for sale. This ship, which seafaring men contemptuously compared to a barrel of pork, had been cheaply built at Miramichi, and was evidently going for a song. James Baines scraped together what little money he had and bought her, sent her out to the Colonies and made a good profit on her; and this was the humble beginning of the great Black Ball Line, which in 1860 possessed 86 ships and employed 300 officers and 3000 seamen.
How James Baines came to take the house-flag and name of the well-known line of American packet ships, which had been running between New York and Liverpool since 1816, I have been unable to find out. One cannot but think, however, that this must often have occasioned confusion in Liverpool business circles.
James Baines’ success was, as I have said, meteoric, and to the end of the fifties he flourished exceedingly. He lived in a beautiful house, where he dispensed princely hospitality, drove a four-in-hand, and thought nothing of buying five ships in one day at Kellock’s Auction Rooms. But in the year 1860 his star began to set. Like many another, he was tempted by the steam-kettle, with the result that he amalgamated with Gibbs, Bright & Co., who had already deserted sail for that doubtful investment, auxiliary steam, and had started a service with the ill-fated Royal Charter and the equally well-known Great Britain.
The packets and steamers of the combine provided a service to Australia from Liverpool twice a month, but it is doubtful if the experiment proved a success financially. The chief cause, however, of James Baines’ downfall was the failure of Barnard’s Bank. At the same time it must be remembered that his soft-wood ships, many of which were old Yankee clippers already past their prime when he bought them, were becoming more and more strained and water-soaked, with the result that his repair bill was ever on the increase, and this just when other firms were building iron ships on purpose to compete with his wooden ones. The two last ships, in which he had any interest, were the Great Eastern and the Three Brothers, once upon a time Vanderbilt’s yacht and famous for its unsuccessful chase of the Alabama, now a hulk at Gibraltar.
Misfortunes, once they begin, have a habit of crowding upon one, and poor old James Baines, for some years before his death, had to depend for his subsistence on the charity of his friends. Indeed he was absolutely penniless when he died of dropsy on 8th March, 1889, in a common Liverpool lodging house. He was only 66 years of age at his death. Yet it will be a very long time before he and his celebrated ships are forgotten in Liverpool.
In the Black Ball Line I served my time.
Hurrah! for the Black Ball Line.
The White Star Line.
The White Star Line, the great rival of the Black Ball, was started by two young Liverpool shipbrokers, John Pilkington and Henry Threlfall Wilson. The actual ships owned by them were never very numerous, though they included the famous Red Jacket and White Star.
In 1867 Pilkington & Wilson wisely sold their soft-wood ships, which by this time were thoroughly strained and water-soaked, to various purchasers; and parted with their well-known house-flag to the late Mr. T. H. Ismay for £1000. Mr. Ismay was joined in partnership by Mr. Imrie, and these two men started the present White Star Line with iron sailing ships for the Australian trade, whilst Messrs. Pilkington & Wilson retired on their laurels.
The Mail Contract.
I do not think anything shows the enterprise of the Black Ball and White Star Lines more clearly than the contracts which they signed in 1855 with Earl Canning, the Postmaster-General, for the carriage of the mails to Australia. Messrs. Pilkington & Wilson undertook to carry the mails in the following ships, Ben Nevis, Shalimar, Red Jacket, Emma, Fitzjames, Mermaid and White Star; and to land them in Australia in 68 days, or pay a penalty of £100 a day for every day over that time. James Baines was even more daring, for he accepted a contract to land the mails in 65 days with the same penalty attached.