CHAPTER XI
CALIFORNIA CLIPPER PASSAGES OF 1851
EACH of the clippers had her devoted admirers, who gave tangible proof of loyalty by investing money liberally in support of their belief in her speed. At that period the merchants and ship-owners of Boston used to meet “on ‘change� in front of the old Merchants’ Exchange in State Street, and before going home to their comfortable two o’clock dinners, these old-time gentlemen would lay many a quiet wager upon the Northern Light, Flying Fish, Witch of the Wave, Raven, John Bertram, Shooting Star, or Game Cock as to their relative speed and the length of their passages from Boston to San Francisco.
In New York the Astor House was the meeting-place of merchants, ship-builders, and sea-captains, who carried on endless arguments concerning the merits of the clipper ships, their builders, owners, and captains, and discussed the latest shipping news with untiring earnestness. These men knew whereof they spoke, for almost any evening there was sufficient capital represented by ship-owners to pay for half a dozen clippers, and the men were there also who could build and navigate them. Occasionally an argument would reach a point of animation where something had to be done, and one might hear a remark very much like this: “No, no, Henry, I can’t do that, but I will lay five dollars at one to three on the Challenge against the fleet, bar one, or the same even on the Flying Cloud against the N. B. Palmer.� These were pleasant evenings, gay with the clink of mugs and glasses and the murmur of small talk and laughter rippling among wreaths of smoke from fragrant Havanas, until, at a little before ten, Michael, the venerable barkeeper would announce, “Gentlemen, I will take the last orders of the evening; we close in ten minutes.�
The interest in clippers was not confined to seamen and capitalists, for when the mail steamer from Aspinwall was reported toiling up the bay, there would be a large number of persons patiently waiting on the wharf, who were not expecting friends among the passengers or crew, but who had come to hear the latest news, then five or six weeks old, of arrivals of clipper ships at San Francisco.
The first clipper to arrive at San Francisco from New York in 1851 in less than 110 days was the Seaman, a smart little Baltimore ship of 546 tons. She made a fine passage of 107 days, arriving on March 11th.
The second to arrive was the Surprise. A merchant of San Francisco wagered heavily on her beating the passage of the Sea Witch—97 days—of the year before, and as the time limit grew near he began to feel rather nervous. On the morning of her ninety-sixth day out, March 19th, he thought if the Surprise was going to win his money for him it was about time for her to do it, so he mounted his horse and rode over to the North Beach to get a glimpse of her if she was in sight. He found the weather thick outside and so returned, but he had not reached his counting-room before the Surprise had passed the Golden Gate. And by noon, Captain Dumaresq was with his friends on shore, 96 days from New York. The Surprise had sailed 16,308 miles since leaving Sandy Hook, and had reefed topsails but twice. It should not, however, be supposed that she had not had plenty of wind, for it was usually blowing hard when Captain Dumaresq began to think of taking in his topgallantsails, to say nothing of reefing topsails. A list of her cargo on this voyage filled a manifest twenty-five feet long, and her freight amounted to the sum of $78,000.
The Sea Serpent arrived on May 17th, after putting into Valparaiso for repairs, as she had lost spars and sails off Cape Horn. She had made the passage in 115 days, deducting her delay at Valparaiso. This was the first of a series of disasters which befell the clippers that year, and which proved pretty clearly that their power of carrying canvas had been underestimated. It became quite evident that these ships could stand stouter spars and rigging, and indeed required them.
The Eclipse, Captain Hamilton, also went into Valparaiso with the loss of some of her spars and sails, and allowing for her loss of time in port, made the passage from New York to San Francisco in 112 days, arriving May 20th, with the remarkable run of 63 days from New York to Valparaiso to her credit. Captain Hamilton was not only an accomplished mariner, but a most delightful companion, and he had many friends in San Francisco, some of whom gave a dinner at the Niantic Hotel in honor of his arrival on this occasion. When the proper moment came, one of the party proposed the health of Captain Hamilton, and this is the way he did it:
“Gentlemen! I give you the shipper-clips—the clippy—sh—the, gentlemen, I give you the—the slipper.â€� Here he paused, steadied himself by the table edge, bowed with great dignity, and began again very slowly: “Gentlemen!—I—give—you—the—ship—E—clipse, and her gallant cap’n Hamilton,â€� and then with an at-peace-with-all-the-world grin, this disciple of Silenus subsided.
The Niantic had a curious history, even for a San Francisco hotel. This refuge for the traveller, or rather a portion of it, had originally been the British ship Niantic which arrived at Valparaiso from Liverpool just as the California gold fever was at its height. She was bought by a Chilean merchant and started for Panama, where she loaded a cargo of tropical fruits and two hundred and forty-eight passengers, and arrived at San Francisco, July 5, 1849. Most of the fruit had either been devoured by the passengers or become so decayed that it was thrown overboard, and as soon as the anchor was down, the captain and all hands cleared out for the mines, leaving the ship to take care of herself.