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STORM AND COMPANY

Jacaob Storm's Memoirs

Chapter 3 Page 2

That same month, I moved across to the barque 'Hallyards', to make room for my brother-in-law, Andrew. My father bought her in Birkenhead for £1,015, with another £308. 15s. 1d. for stores and some new decking. Her register tonnage was 299.

There was a trend to bigger vessels, and a need to run them more cheaply as the steamers with their huge holds and tiny crews entered the race. The 'Jon Bowes', the first screw collier, took 650 tons of coal to the Thames and reappeared in the Tyne five days later, which meant she could comfortably make three or four times more voyages than a sailing vessel, and far more cargo. About the time, my father was contemplating buying the 'Coquette', the steamer 'Lifeguard' made the voyage from the Thames to the Tyne in just over twenty-eight hours. Nevertheless the steamers too were vulnerable, for in December of 1867, the 'Lifeguard' disappeared with all hands and passengers off Scarborough in a fierce storm.

The 'Hallyards' was a bad bargain. Nearly all her profits in ten years went on repairs and insurance, and she cleared at the end of our ownership £113. But for my father's sake, I stuck to her for seven years. Indeed I had much for which to thank God, for while I was her master, she helped me to weather storms which overwhelmed many of her contemporaries.

I eventually got out of her without much discredit or loss, physical or moral, and with the valuable experience that only an unhandy vessel can give a master. That same year of purchase brought one lesson almost at once. We were in the North Sea bound for London from Memel with staves and sleepers, making three inches of water in moderate weather, when we got down to the last piece of pump leather. I reduced the pump box, increased the thickness of the leather by pegging a slice of my leather boot-top thereon and thus effectually stopped the scour in the pump chamber caused by the coarse Memel sand ballast. This contrivance enabled us to make London.

Around this time, conditions of trade meant that sailing ships on the coast had to face more of the winters, and insurances were naturally affected. It was in the winter of 1869-70 that the 'Hallyards' was bound for Soderhamm in company with the brigs 'Levant', 'John and Jane' and 'La Belle'. The first was owned by Smith Stainthorpe and the second by the Bedlingtons, of Robin Hood's Bay. The weather caused us to take refuge in a small roadstead on the coast of Sweden until the wind changed and we were able to get under way, each taking an Oregrund pilot. Unfortunately, my 'Hallyards' was drawing two feet more water than the others and I found myself trapped by a barrier of rocks. Attempts to beat to windward failed, whereupon I had to persuade my pilot that my vessel would jump a two-foot barrage and follow my friends through the channel. The feat was accomplished in grand style, to the satisfaction of all.

It was less than a year after this escapade that Capt. Jenkins of Robin Hood's Bay died of exposure aboard the barque 'Canopus', having been caught in the Baltic winter. He lies buried in Dantsic [change as above?].

When I left the 'Hallyards' in 1871, I had a brief spell ashore, and having nothing much to do, I offered to relieve my brother-in-law, Richard Knightly Smith for a day or two to take the brig 'Laura', 274 tons, to the Forth, A fierce wind intervened and we put into the Tyne, where I was relieved. That was all I saw of the 'Laura', although my father, RK Smith and I owned her for nine years, paying £563 in cash and £562 in six month bills for her, and taking a good profit over that time of £1,264. 6s. 10d.

My next command was the barque 'Maggie', 305 tons, lying in Northumberland Dock in the Tyne when I joined her in May of 1872. Almost at once, we sailed from Shields with coal for Alexandria. Her owner was George Russel of Thorpe, Fylingdales, of the family best known today by the Bay Post Office. The voyage out, and the return trip with cottonseed to Yarmouth and the Tyne went well. The only trouble I would record was the dispute between the crew and the rats to determine who should have the provisions. We had to make safe lockers and invent traps. Richardson Dixon, second mate, and I had some success by baiting the store room itself with one bag of oatmeal and nothing else and stopping all holes but one, over which we contrived a sliding shutter. Before we reached Alexandria, we had placed sixty-one vermin hors de combat and the rest were in a timid condition with no relish for further conflict.

In October, 1872, we loaded a full cargo of steam coal in Northumberland Dock for Alexandria at £25 a keel, and sailed into a favouring gale. Off the Goodwins, the wind dropped and beyond Dover we didn't even have steering way. The ominous calm stayed with us until night, when rain warned us to prepare for a squall. Although the wind rose at last from the west and we tacked many times, we fairly danced down the Channel. It was when the Lizard light dipped that we got into the cyclone's track, began to ship water and heard the first awful howling as the storm burst on our starboard bow. The night had become pitch dark, and it was not long before the bulwarks and stanchions were smashed. About eight bells, the wind increased from the west, the 'Maggie' heeled heavily and the cargo was flung to port. The situation was chaotic and the crew clung to the rigging for dear life whenever she went under.

Amazingly, she rose each time, shaken but free, but we lost helm and compass. Luckily there was no trouble with the pumps, which sucked well each time we got to them when our ship rose from the water. Nevertheless, it was one night I shall not forget.

At daybreak, we were able to refit the wheel and I decided to make for shelter. This meant that the shifting cargo now kept the vessel heeled into the oncoming seas, and although the young helmsman stood firm and kept a good course, I felt at heart that our fate was sealed, until at last we closed with the land. It was into Dartmouth that we eventually limped, and our thoughts were of thanks to God rather than dwelling on the damage we had suffered.

Every Channel port had been crowded with sheltering ships that night and there were many latecomers with damaged masts and yards, lost boats and shattered hulls. Repairs and refitting kept us seven weeks in Dartmouth, and there was also a cargo to retrim.

When we sailed again, it was in company with the 'Laura', master RK Smith, my brother-in-law. We were into 1873 and on 3rd January, we were caught in a hurricane from the SSE which threw the cargo to starboard. Once again, bulwarks and stanchions went and the only sail we had set was blown out of the boltropes, leaving us helpless. First light on the 4th brought clearer weather but the wind was still hard. I mustered all hands to deal with our dangerous list and after cutting a manhole in the after bulkhead into the hold, we went to trim the cargo to port. Without this, steering a course was impossible. Then the 'Laura' came bearing down and spoke to us, but as we didn't need assistance, she proceeded on her course and toward noon, we were able to follow her under all sail.

We had fine, favourable weather for the rest of the passage and arrived all well at Alexandria where we repaired our damaged bulwarks while discharging cargo. Our next calls, Scalanueva, Smyrna and Mytilene, where we loaded bones for Leith. With such a cargo, the most detestable I ever had charge of, it was a blessing that we had a good passage, because the ship was overrun with insect life from keel to truck. I have never wanted another cargo of bones. Before loading again, we had to smoke the ship and then we were off to Kronstadt with coal. I escaped a severe dressing in the Gulf of Finland by seeking anchorage under Nargan Island when the glass told me the storm was close. In the Russian port, we loaded wheat for London, arrived all well, discharged and were taken by John Brain's tugs to Northfleet for chalk, for the Tyne. From there I went home. In 1873 the 'Maggie' cleared £400. She had proved herself a good ship in some of the worst gales of 1872-3, but I would not consider her the best of seaboats because the lack of bulkheads meant an insecure cargo. When needs must, the Devil drives.

In 1874, I took over the brig Black Prince, 272 tons, in the Wear. I owned 32/64ths of her and had a navigation bond which gave me liberty to trade where I thought fit but compelled me to keep her in repair and work her for the benefit of myself and my partners. She cost £1,425 .

I must say she was a delightful vessel to command and sailed well in any wind, but close-hauled or beating to windward, she was unsurpassed by square-rigged ships in the home trade. She was tight, staunch, shapely and strong and steered like a fish as well as being a splendid seaboat. There was plenty of bright metal on display, but the prince had vanished from her head and had been replaced with the plainest gammon knee. I have seen her pass all kinds of ships and dance her way through a large fleet.

When bound for London with a cargo and deck load of deals in the year I joined her, we were caught on the tail of the Dogger Bank in a heavy SW gale that kept us under a close-reefed or lower main topsail for three days. Many ships were caught in the North Sea, some lost and most damaged, while the 'Black Prince' not only weathered the storm, but got her deck cargo to London intact. Thirty shillings made good all the damage sustained.

In November 1875, we made a record passage from Kronstadt to Leith, 1284 miles in seven days and two hours. The daily average was 183 miles and the round voyage from Troon had occupied only forty-four days.

In December, we sailed out of Leith for Boulogne with pig-iron and coal. From St. Abb's head to Farnes, a heavy NE gale tested her sailing and seagoing qualities severely, but after clearing the Long-stone she simply flew before the gale and the snow showers like a seabird. We arrived at Boulogne before the word that we had left Leith reached home at Robin Hood's Bay. This was the gale in which Captain Campion of Whitby and all his crew went down in Gideon Sinales' 'Aid'.

Notwithstanding the good qualities of the 'Black Prince', she was bought too dear for the times. Her 1874 earnings were carried forward to 1875 and the profit then amounted to £200. It had become impossible to do much more with sailing craft, but I had loved the 'Black Prince' and delighted in navigating her in the narrow seas, until 1879 when, for the sake of my family, now grown to five, I had to leave her and go into steam. After installing my partner, Richardson Dixon (15), as master, and giving my father my 32/64ths of her I went Chief Officer of the SS 'Torn Pyman', owned by Geo. Pyman and Co., and I knew the sailing ships no more (14).

I joined her in Hartlepool in October. She had been built nine years before by Dentons at West Hartlepool. There was a coal cargo to finish discharging before we sailed for the Baltic two days later. At Swartwick in Sweden, we loaded 3-inch-by-9-inch deals for Surrey Commercial Docks, London. After discharging there, we went up to West Hartlepool to take on coal for Dantzic [as above?]. From there, we went to Libau in Courland and loaded barley for Honfleur. The next call was Cardiff, in ballast, and there we took in coals and, while we were loading, I relieved Captain King as master on 27th December.

There was a rather uncanny experience on the voyage from Libau to Honfleur. When we sailed, there were already signs of northern winter in the still air. Beyond Courland, the rigging and yards became encrusted in fantastic moulds of crystal. We rounded the reef of Falsterbo, saw the spires of Copenhagen come up, and approached Saltholm Island before we saw a feeble glimmer of sun. The spires went down again, and off Taarbeck reef, the ice became tough. Frozen wavelets were lit by a pale, silver light. Eventually, the awful grinding noise brought the chief engineer on deck in some alarm, but he stayed to stare at the many vessels held fast in the sea in absolute calm. Beyond them to the west, we could see country houses set in the sombre Danish woodlands. Many flight of wildfowl passed overhead in the pale sky as we inched our way through thickening ice and Captain King sought weaknesses in the crust. It was hard work for the gang in the stokehold and we were beyond Elsinore before we found clearer water.

Those few days left a deep impression on my memory, but needless to say, when a few of us get together at home, someone could come up with stranger and more exciting tales from all over the world, and that without exaggeration either. My nephew William Storm's tale of his adventure at Galveston in the hurricane of 1900 would take some beating. When the great storm had died down his ship [SS Roma] (16) was lying high and dry and a long way from the sea.

Footnote:(14) Richardson Dixon came from the moorland farm of Billera in Fylingdales. He died in Southampton in 1901

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