1809, February.
Employment of Shipping.
The sloops Smeaton and Alexander made several trips to the North, and also to Mylnefield, near Dundee, for stones which had been quarried in the course of the summer months, and were in no danger from the frost; but owing to the difficult nature of the navigation of the Tay in winter, these voyages were frequently attended with considerable danger. On the last trip which the Smeaton made to this quarry, she had a very narrow escape, and lost both her boat and an anchor; but the hazardous state of the vessel and all on board, will be better understood by the following very distinct and explicit letter or journal from Mr Thomas Calder, commander of the Light-house Yacht, who, on this occasion, was acting master on board of the Smeaton.
Captain Calder’s account of a trip to the Tay.
“Arbroath, 25th February 1809.
“Mr Stevenson.
“Sir,—At 3 o’clock P. M., on the 21st inst., I got under way from the South Ferry Roads for Mylnefield quarry, wind at West. At 7 were about a mile from the quarry pierhead. Light airs of wind. Got beset amongst ice, and brought up with the small bower-anchor. At midnight, all hands employed hanging fenders over the bows and sides, to save the vessel from getting cut with the ice.
“At day-light, on the 22d., being high-water, got under way; ice all round, and had frequently to let go an anchor, to allow it to drift past us. Could not get up to the quarry, and at 10 put into Dundee. During the remainder of this day had light breezes, with hard frost.
“On the 23d, at 7 A. M. got again under way, with a westerly wind, but still could not make up to the quarry. At 10, had drifted down as far as the Lights of Tay, having little wind, but a heavy sea from E.SE. At 11, the boat filled, and was turned bottom up; nothing could be done for her safety; cut her adrift. At noon, had a very heavy sea on our broadside, breaking over all, with little or no wind. Got into three fathoms water, the sea sweeping every thing off the deck that was moveable. All hands in the rigging for safety, except the man at the helm. Endeavour if possible to get back, but all in vain. Let go our anchor in two fathoms water, the sea breaking over all. At 9 o’clock P. M., being then high-water, let go the best bower-anchor. At midnight calm weather, with heavy breaking seas.