Some of the other notable passages of this year were made by the Sovereign of the Seas and Comet, each 102 days; Sea Witch 108 days from New York; Staffordshire 101 days, and John Bertram and Shooting Star each 105 days from Boston.
The Flying Cloud, on this, her second voyage from New York, arrived at San Francisco September 6, 1852, 113 days from New York. She had, for her, a long run of 30 days to the equator; and when she was off the coast of Brazil, running before a light northerly wind under skysails and royal studdingsails, with the weather clew of her mainsail hauled up: as Captain Creesy was taking his noon observation, a large clipper ship was reported about six miles ahead, under the same canvas but almost becalmed. She was soon recognized by Captain Creesy and his officers as the N. B. Palmer. The Flying Cloud carried the breeze until about two o’clock, when she also ran into the calm, and signals were exchanged. Captain Low, of the N. B. Palmer, reported with pardonable pride, that he had sailed from New York eight days after the Flying Cloud, and had found good winds to the equator; indeed, a few days after sailing he had made 396 miles in twenty-four hours.
As may be imagined, Captain Creesy was somewhat chagrined, but at all events, here at last were the ships about whose speed there had been so much discussion, side by side on blue water, and soon there would be a chance to find out which was the faster of the two. As there was every indication of a southerly breeze, both ships took in their studdingsails, rigged in the booms, and got ready for the new wind, with a pull on sheets and halliards fore and aft. The Flying Cloud had a fine crew, and in after years Captain Creesy in describing this race said that, “They worked like one man, and that man a hero.�
At about four o’clock there was a faint southerly air with a few cat’s-paws, and soon the breeze came up from the south in a dark-blue line across the horizon. Both ships felt it at the same moment, and braced their yards on the starboard tack sharp by the wind, which soon freshened to a fine whole-sail breeze. The Flying Cloud now began to draw away. At daylight the next morning, the N. B. Palmer was hull down to leeward, and by four o’clock in the afternoon was no longer in sight. Both ships had strong westerly gales off Cape Horn, and the Flying Cloud led her rival into San Francisco by twenty-three days.
It is only fair to say, however, that the N. B. Palmer lost five days through putting into Valparaiso to land two of her crew, and as it turned out, to ship seventeen men to replace deserters. One of the two men landed had shot and wounded the mate, and the other, known as “Doublin Jack,� had knocked the second mate down with a handspike. Captain Low put both these men in irons, triced them up in the mizzen rigging, and gave them each four dozen lashes of ratline stuff, which they had well earned. Captain R. B. Forbes, one of the most humane and kind-hearted of men, declared in an address before the Boston Marine Society in 1854, that he regarded “the abolition of the power of flogging refractory seamen as having been injudicious�; and I think that most men who had experience in handling the crews of merchant ships on the high seas in those days will be inclined to agree with him.
The demand for new clipper ships had by no means abated in 1852, and thirty-three California clippers were launched in this year. Donald McKay built the Sovereign of the Seas, Bald Eagle, and Westward Ho; William H. Webb, the Flying Dutchman; Samuel Hall, the Polynesia, John Gilpin, Flying Childers, and Wizard; Jacob A. Westervelt, the Golden City, Golden State, and Contest; Jacob Bell, the Messenger and Jacob Bell; Paul Curtis, the Golden West, Queen of the Seas, Cleopatra, and Radiant; J. O. Curtis, the Phantom and Whirlwind; Jabez Williams, the Simoon; R. E. Jackson, the Winged Racer; Fernald & Pettigrew, the Red Rover.
Undismayed by difficulties as to spars and rigging that beset the minds of other ship-builders, Donald McKay resolved in this year to build a still larger clipper than had yet appeared. This ship was the Sovereign of the Seas, of 2421 tons register, and when she was launched in June, 1852, the bells that had welcomed the New World and Stag-Hound as the largest merchant ships afloat, again rang out a joyous greeting to this noble clipper, as she glided smoothly and swiftly into the blue waters of Boston harbor.
The Sovereign of the Seas measured: length 258 feet, breadth 44 feet, depth 23 feet 6 inches, with 20 inches dead-rise at half floor. It is interesting to note that each one of Mr. McKay’s clippers had less dead-rise than her predecessor. The Stag-Hound had 40 inches dead-rise at half floor with slightly convex water-lines; the Flying Cloud and Staffordshire 30 inches with concave water-lines and shorter but sharper ends. The Sovereign of the Seas had the longest and sharpest ends of any vessel then built, and combined the grace and beauty of the smaller ships with immense strength and power to carry sail.
She had a crew of 105 men and boys, consisting of 4 mates, 2 boatswains, 2 carpenters, 2 sail-makers, 3 stewards, 2 cooks, 80 able seamen, and 10 boys before the mast. She was commanded by Captain Lauchlan McKay, who was born at Shelburne, Nova Scotia, in 1811, being one year younger than his brother Donald. Like him, he went to New York, served an apprenticeship there with Isaac Webb, and after becoming a master ship-wright, was appointed carpenter of the U. S. frigate Constellation, in which he served four years. Admiral Farragut was a young lieutenant on board this ship at the same time. In 1839 Captain McKay published a work on naval architecture, and soon after, in company with his brother Hugh, opened a shipyard at Boston. Here they did repairing, and in 1846 built the bark Odd Fellow, in which Lauchlan sailed as captain. In 1848 he commanded the ship Jenny Lind, and made some excellent passages in her. When he took command of the Sovereign of the Seas, Captain McKay was in his forty-first year, and of gigantic build and strength.
The Sovereign of the Seas sailed from New York for San Francisco, August 4, 1852, a poor season of the year for a rapid run to the equator, but she crossed 25 days out from Sandy Hook, making a run which had never been bettered in the month of August, and only twice equalled—once by the Raven from Boston in 1851 and once by the Hurricane from New York in 1853. She was 23 days from the equator to 50° S., and 9 days from 50° S. in the Atlantic to the same parallel in the Pacific. After rounding Cape Horn, she carried away her fore-and maintopmasts and foreyard, and it required fourteen days to rerig her, during which time she was kept on her course, and made the run from 50° S. to the equator in the remarkable time, considering her disabled condition, of 29 days. She went thence to San Francisco in 17 days, which is the record for the month of November, and her total run from New York to San Francisco was 103 days.