Coming home from Tasmania in the Berean early in 1870, about the equator and nearing the tedious “variables,” alias “doldrums,” alias “horse latitudes,” we overhauled the clipper ship Yosemite, from San Francisco for United Kingdom for orders. Her captain signalled for permission to come on board, and a prompt reply of welcome went up. The captain reported himself tired and restless, that he was racing home with two or three ships, and was anxious to know what vessels we had spoken. My list was produced, but none of his competitors was in it. After a pleasant visit the captain returned to his ship giving me the names of two of his antagonists.
Berean gradually crept away from Yosemite, and in about two days she had dipped below the horizon, but was still visible from aloft. By this time we were coming up with two ships, which, by their spread of stunsails, water-sails, Jimmy Greens, etc., were evidently in a great hurry. In exchanging signals they proved to be the two vessels racing the Yosemite, viz., ship Lady Blomfield and barque Cerastes; the latter was slightly ahead. We passed within hail of the Lady Blomfield, and when I reported the Yosemite not far astern the captain was greatly excited. Throwing up his cap, he exclaimed, “Go and tell the other ship there is a bet of £100 between them.”
A hand went aloft and pointed out the Yosemite astern. Shortly after we sailed alongside the Cerastes, but the captain took the news of the racer’s proximity very calmly and seemed to be surprised she was so near. We gradually got away from these two ships and saw no more of them. On arrival in the English Channel I sent a report ashore which appeared in the Shipping Gazette, and I found considerable interest was being taken in this race. I was interviewed by Yosemite’s agents as to my opinion which ship would win. Two or three days after Berean arrived in London Cerastes reached Queenstown, and was the winner of that race.
In 1893, homeward bound from Tasmania to London, Lat. 19° S., Long. 22° W., Berean fell in with Geo. Thompson’s Aberdeen White Star clipper Samuel Plimsoll from Sydney to London; strong S.E. trade wind, squally. At daylight the two ships were exactly abeam of each other, and throughout the day neither could gain an inch. (The old man of the Samuel Plimsoll stamped up and down his poop all day in a very excited state of mind and kept exclaiming, “A little thing like that hanging on to me like a flea and I cannot shake her off.”) The royals were frequently lowered during the squalls and hoisted again when they had passed. Samuel Plimsoll steering slightly more easterly, the two ships gradually closed, and if the respective courses had been continued must have collided. Berean, being the windward ship, was bound to give way, so at sundown she was shaken up in the wind and the Samuel Plimsoll allowed to pass ahead. At daylight next day, the Aberdeen clipper was well out to windward and slightly ahead, and in that bearing the ships parted, seeing no more of each other.
Unfortunately, in the chops of the Channel, Berean was surrounded with a fleet of herring nets, some of which clung to her the rest of the passage impeding her speed. Samuel Plimsoll arrived at Gravesend an hour or two ahead, but being too early in the tide had to anchor. Berean, being of lighter draught, passed her and was first in dock. But for the detention through fouling the nets, in all probability these two ships would have reached Gravesend together after a race of 6000 miles.
In 1895, when outward bound to Tasmania and in the doldrums north of the equator, Berean fell in with the four-master Loch liner Loch Carron, bound to Adelaide. The two ships after a chat with signals parted on opposite tacks and did not sight each other again until crossing the Great Bight of Australia, when at lunch one day the welcome cry of “Sail-ho!” was heard. Going on deck the chief officer and myself naturally looked ahead for the stranger, but a ship on our starboard quarter was pointed out. Berean was steering due east for Tasmania with the wind right aft, the worst point for fine-lined ships, head sails all becalmed; the Loch Carron hauling up for Adelaide was carrying the wind 2 or 3 points on the quarter, all sails drawing, and was gaining on the Berean. When she got into our wake she kept off on the same course as if intending to speak, but finding she could not gain on that course hauled to again, crossing astern, and with the difference in the courses the two ships were soon out of sight of each other. The picture of the Loch Carron as she sheered away under all sail, scattering the feathery foam from her bows, still lives, forming one of the series of mental photographs an old sailor naturally collects.
Another still more interesting meeting was with the famous Thermopylae. Both ships were outward bound, and the Thermopylae overhauled and passed the Berean to the southward of the Cape, the weather being unsettled, and the Thermopylae, being able to bear more sail than the little Berean, soon went out of sight ahead. Nevertheless she only passed Cape Otway 17 hours ahead of the Berean, so Captain Wyrill was not quite broken-hearted.
On another occasion the Berean, when outward bound, crossed the southern tropic in company with Green’s Melbourne (afterwards the well-known cadet ship Macquarie) and the little barque arrived in Launceston two or three days before the big iron ship arrived in Hobson’s Bay.
Again, when homeward bound, the Berean was passed off the Falkland Isles in a strong breeze by Green’s fast Blackwall frigate Windsor Castle, nevertheless the Windsor Castle docked in London four days later than the Berean.
All the above trials of speed were with vessels very much larger and more powerful than Mr. Walker’s clipper barque, but the Berean once had a very interesting race round the world with another well-known barque, the little Harriet McGregor, of 331 tons, belonging to Hobart. The two ships left Tasmania together, and the Berean arrived at Gravesend, 90 days out, beating the Harriet McGregor by a week. On the return passage, the Harriet McGregor was loaded first and got away about nine days ahead of Berean, but again Walker’s clipper got in ahead of her, this time by one day only, after making the run to Launceston in 77 days.