'Sunbeam,' R.Y.S. Designed by St. Clare Byrne, 1874.
If I were dealing with the question of rig, with the long experience gained on the 'Sunbeam,' I should decidedly adopt the barque rig. In confirmation of this opinion, it may be interesting to note that when H.M. brig 'Beagle' was under the command of Captain FitzRoy, R.N., for a lengthened service in the Straits of Magellan and the coasts of South America, the mizenmast was stuck through the skylight of the captain's cabin, an arrangement which, while of service to the ship, was not unnaturally a source of discomfort to the captain. In making passages in the Trades, with light winds on the quarter and the usual swell, fore-and-aft sails are constantly lifting, while sails set on fixed yards keep asleep. They draw better, and there is no chafe. I have found great advantage from the use of large studding-sails, made of light duck. This material was highly esteemed when it was first brought out. In modern practice a combination of silk and hemp furnishes a greatly superior material for the huge spinnakers, of 4,000 square feet, carried by the 'Navahoe' and 'Valkyrie.' The new balloon sails can no longer be called canvas. They may more accurately be described as muslin.
I will not attempt a recital of nautical adventures in the present chapter; but a few experiences may be briefly described. The worst passage I ever made was in the 'Eothen,' s.s., 340 tons, in 1872, from Queenstown to Quebec, touching at St. John's, Newfoundland. On August 14 we put to sea deeply laden, with bunkers full, and 15 tons of coal in bags on deck. In this condition we had 2 ft. 9 in. of freeboard. On the second day out we encountered a summer gale. Shortly after it came on, we shipped a sea, which broke over the bow and filled us up to the rail. At the same time the engineer put his head above the engine-room hatch, and announced that, the bearings having become heated, he must stop the engines. For a short time we were in danger of falling off into the trough of the sea. It was a great relief when the engines once more slowly turned ahead. In the mid-Atlantic, we encountered a cyclone, passing through the calm but ominous centre into a violent gale from the north-west, which lasted twenty-four hours. We were battened down and suffered considerable discomfort. Fortunately, no heavy sea broke on board as we lay to under double-reefed main storm-trysail, the engines slowly turning ahead. Two days later we encountered another sharp gale, in which the barometer fell to 29.14°. Happily it soon passed over. After this third gale we had a change of wind to the eastward, and, pushing on, with all sail set, we reached St. John's in thirteen days from Queenstown, with four inches of water in the tanks, two tons of coal in the bunkers, the decks leaking in every seam, cabins in utter disarray, and a perfect wreck aloft and on deck. After leaving St. John's, where we had confidently hoped that the worst was over, we encountered a hurricane off Cape Race, which exceeded in violence anything that had been experienced in these waters for many years. We lay to for three days, and when the storm abated put into the French island St. Pierre, almost exhausted. It was an unspeakable relief when we entered the St. Lawrence.
The lesson to be drawn from my voyage in the 'Eothen' is obvious. It is a great mistake to attempt to cross the stormiest ocean in the world in a steam yacht of such small size. For ocean steaming much more tonnage and power are necessary.
The heaviest gale ever experienced by the 'Sunbeam' was off Flamborough Head, in 1881. I embarked at Middlesbrough on the evening of October 13, intending to sail for Portsmouth at daybreak on the following morning; but, finding the wind from the south and the barometer depressed, our departure was deferred. At 9 a.m. the barometer had fallen to 28.87°, but as the wind had changed to W.N.W., and was off shore from a favourable quarter, I determined to proceed to sea. We were towed down the Tees, and as we descended the river I conferred with the pilot as to what we might anticipate from the remarkable depression in the barometer. He was of opinion that a severe gale was at hand, that it would blow from the north-west, and that there was no reason for remaining in port. The tug was accordingly cast off at the mouth of the Tees, and we made sail. Foreseeing a storm, topmasts were housed, boats were secured on deck, and we kept under close-reefed canvas, setting the main and mizen jib-headed trysails, double-reefed foresail and forestay-sail, and reefed standing jib. As the day advanced no change took place in the weather. The wind blew strongly, but not with the force of a gale, and the sea was comparatively smooth. Meanwhile the barometer continued to descend rapidly, and at 2 p.m. had fallen to 28.45°. As nothing had yet occurred to account for this depression, my sailing-master remarked that it must have been caused by the heavy showers of rain which had fallen in the course of the morning. I knew from former experiences that it was not the rain, but the coming storm, that was indicated by the barometer. It had needed some resolution to quit the mouth of the Tees in the morning, and at mid-day, when we were off Whitby, a still greater effort was required to resist the temptation to make for a harbour. No further incidents occurred until 3 p.m., when we were nearing Flamborough Head. Here we were at last overtaken by the long impending storm. Looking back to the north-west, over the starboard quarter, we saw that the sea had suddenly been lashed into a mass of white foam. The hurricane was rushing forward with a velocity and a force which must have seemed terrible to the fleet of coasting vessels around us. Before the gale struck the 'Sunbeam' our canvas had been reduced to main and mizen trysails and reefed standing-jib; but even with the small spread of sail, and luffed up close to the wind, our powerful little vessel careened over to the fury of the blast until the lee-rail completely disappeared under water—an incident which had never previously occurred during all the extensive voyages we had undertaken. Such was the force of the wind that a sailing vessel near us lost all her sails, and our large gig was stove in from the tremendous pressure of the gunwale against the davits. We took in the jib and the mizen-trysail, and, with our canvas reduced to a jib-headed main-trysail, were soon relieved of water on deck. For an hour and a half we lay-to on the starboard tack, standing in for the land below Burlington Bay. We were battened down, and felt ourselves secure from all risks except collision. The fury of the wind so filled the air with spoon-drift that we could not see a ship's length ahead, and in such crowded waters a collision was a far from impossible contingency. At 6 p.m. we thought it prudent to wear, so as to gain an offing during the night, and gradually drew out of the line of traffic along the coast. At 9 p.m. the extreme violence of the hurricane had abated, and we could see, through occasional openings in the mist, the masthead lights of several steamers standing, like ourselves, off the land for the night. At midnight the barometer was rising rapidly, and the wind gradually settled down into a clear hard gale, accompanied by a heavy sea, running down the coast from the north.
At 6 a.m. we carefully examined the dead reckoning, and, having fixed on an approximate position, we determined to bear away, steering to pass in mid-channel between the Outer Dowsing and the Dudgeon, through a passage about ten miles in width. We were under easy sail; but, under the main-trysail, double-reefed foresail, staysail, fore-topsail, and reefed jib, we scudded at the rate of eleven knots. A constant look-out had been kept from aloft, and at 10 a.m., having nearly run the distance down from our assumed position when we bore away to the north end of the Outer Dowsing, I established myself in the crosstrees until we should succeed in making something. After a short interval we saw broken water nearly ahead on the port bow. We at once hauled to the wind, steering to the south-west, and set the mizen-trysail. The lead showed a depth of three fathoms, and we were therefore assured that we had been standing too near to the Outer Dowsing. The indications afforded by the lead were confirmed by sights, somewhat roughly taken, and by the circumstance of our having shortly before passed through a fleet of trawlers evidently making for the Spurn. In less than an hour after we had hauled to the wind we found ourselves in the track of several steamers. At 3 p.m. we made the land near Cromer, and at 5.30 we brought up in the Yarmouth Roads, thankful to have gained a secure shelter from the gale.
In connection with this experience, it may be remarked that, as a general rule, our pleasure fleet is over-masted. We are advised in these matters by sailmakers, who look to the Solent and its sheltered water as the normal condition with which yachtsmen have to deal. When we venture forth from that smooth and too-much frequented arm of the sea into open waters, our vessels have to pass a far more severe ordeal, and they do not always come out of it to our satisfaction. Many are compelled to stay in harbour when a passage might have been made in a snugly rigged yacht.
One of the longest gales experienced in the 'Sunbeam' was on the passage from Nassau to Bermuda, in November 1883. The gale struck us south of Cape Hatteras, on November 25, in latitude 31.54° N. The north-east wind gradually subsided, and we pushed on, under steam, for Bermuda at 7 knots. The head sea increased, but no change took place in the force or direction of the wind from 8 p.m. on the 25th till 4 a.m. on the 27th. Meanwhile, the barometer had gradually fallen to 29.82°, giving warning for a heavy gale, which commenced at north-by-east, and ended on November 30, at 4 p.m., with the wind at north-west. We lay-to on the 27th, under treble-reefed foresail and double-reefed mainsail, shipping no water, but driving to the south-east at the rate of at least one knot an hour. On the 28th we decided to try the 'Sunbeam' under treble-reefed foresail and mainsail, double-reefed fore-staysail and reefed mizen-trysail. With this increased spread of canvas we were able to make two knots an hour on the direct course to Bermuda, and to keep sufficient steerage way to luff up to an ugly sea. The behaviour of the vessel elicited the unqualified approval of our most experienced hands. Bad weather quickly brings out the qualities of seamen. Our four best men relieved each other at the wheel, and it was due in no small degree to their skill that, in a gale lasting three days, no heavy sea broke on board. I need not say that all deck openings were secured, especially at night, by means of planks and canvas. Our situation might perhaps excite sympathy, but we had no cause to complain. Meals could not be served in the usual manner, but by placing every movable thing on the floor of the cabins and on the lee side, and by fixing ourselves against supports, or in a recumbent position, we were secured against any further effects of the force of gravity, and did our best to enjoy the novelty of the situation. On the 30th the wind veered to the north-west, and the weather rapidly improved. The sea turned gradually with the wind, but for many hours we met a heavy swell from the north-east.
An acquaintance with the law of storms had proved invaluable on this occasion. There is no situation in which knowledge is more truly power, none in which, under a due sense of the providential care of Heaven, it gives a nobler confidence to man, than at sea, amid the raging of a hurricane. Mr. Emerson has truly said, 'They can conquer who believe they can. The sailor loses fear as fast as he acquires command of sails, and spars, and steam. To the sailor's experience, every new circumstance suggests what he must do. The terrific chances which make the hours and minutes long to the mere passenger, he whiles away by incessant application of expedients and repairs. To him a leak, a hurricane, a waterspout, is so much work, and no more. Courage is equality to the problem, in affairs, in science, in trade, in council, or in action. Courage consists in the conviction that the agents with which you contend are not superior in strength, or resources, or spirit, to you.'