History Blog
|
|
Editor’s Note: The replica ship Half Moon was completed in Albany in 1989 and served as a cultural ambassador celebrating the role of the Dutch in naval architecture, exploration, international trade, and colonization. An earlier replica was built in Amsterdam and presented to the United States during the Hudson-Fulton Celebration in 1909. This first replica was not maintained after the celebration and did not survive long as a static exhibit at Bear Mountain and later at Cohoes. The 1989 replica performed well once her characteristics were understood and was exhibited in a number of ports along the Atlantic seaboard. Later, she served as valuable and successful educational platform on the Hudson River through her “Voyages of Discovery” program for school children. The ship is currently in the Netherlands after spending several years as an exhibit in Hoorn. To read more about the technology and terminology of sailing in the seventeenth century and later, John Harland’s Seamanship in the Age of Sail, 1984 (republished by the Naval Institute Press in 1987) is recommended. For an account of Henry Hudson’s four voyages of exploration, including his trip up the Hudson River in 1609, Donald Johnson’s Charting the Sea of Darkness, International Marine, 1993 is recommended. This latter book is dedicated to the shipwright who designed and built the replica, Nick Benton. Follow Muddy Paddle, Able Seaman aboard the replica ship Half Moon here. A Passage to Delaware Bay I joined the ship at Jersey City on the first Tuesday of October. The ship had only four volunteers but had gained a cat named Mrs. Freeboard. The Half Moon had more than enough freeboard, but our cat thought otherwise. She earned her “free” board by keeping the “pier ponies” (rats) off the ship. Our first mate went out looking to sign on a few more volunteers while the captain made chili. By this point in the ship’s career, a convenient galley and four berths had been set up in the ship’s forward hold. Historically, cooking was done on a tile hearth on the main deck within the forecastle. Crew had used this hearth previously for making cowboy coffee and boiling stews, but it was a poor substitute for a range and a refrigerator, especially in bad weather. Our food was substantially better than the dried and salted meats and weevilly biscuits served to the seventeenth century sailors. Since water became rank on long voyages, beer was the beverage of choice in 1609. We did not think it was a good idea to stock beer aboard the replica ship. We had plenty of challenges while sober. Crew members whipped old lines (finished off fraying ends) in the fo’csle and shared tales about previous trips. We ate dinner in the galley down below and watched the sunset from the mast tops. Our first mate was successful in recruiting two college students as volunteers. It was a cool, damp night so we bunked down in the galley for the evening. Our new recruits came aboard at dawn and we got underway immediately, certainly before they had time to change their minds. Ideally, we should have had a mate and seven crewmembers. We were one short. The students, Mike and Ann, were a couple. Mike was very athletic and proved a quick study aloft. His girlfriend Ann had only come along for the ride, but was cheerful and ready to do her share of the work on board. We passed under the Verrazano Bridge, went by the old Romer Shoal lighthouse along the Ambrose Channel and out into the Atlantic where we paralleled the New Jersey shore. We boiled up a pot of oatmeal for breakfast and cooked chicken for lunch. Seas rose in the afternoon. Mike was the first one to feel ill. He declined our dinner of fried steaks and onions. The smell of the onions probably didn’t help. We divided the crew into two watches (rotating teams) of three members each. Mike was completely out of commission and had rolled himself into a fetal position amongst coils of rope in the forecastle. Ann paid seemingly little attention to him, so from time-to-time, the others would check on him and make sure he was getting a little water. As with the original, the replica Half Moon was steered by a traditional whipstaff instead of a wheel. The whipstaff is a vertical pole sliding in and out of a pivoting drum on deck. The lower end of this staff engages a long tiller which rides over a greased beam and connects to the top of the rudder. The whipstaff is housed within a protective hutch in front of the mizzenmast and well behind the mainmast. There is room in this hutch for the helmsman (the crew member steering the ship) an hourglass used for navigation and dictating the change of the watch and a binnacle, the cabinet containing the compass. Our replica also carried radar. The helmsman is protected from bad weather, yet can still see the set of the sails while watching the compass heading of the ship. However, in close maneuvering, the pilot must con (direct) the ship from the deck above, shouting commands to the helmsman below. It was a stormy night and conditions were deteriorating. Although the helmsman’s hutch was largely enclosed and provided with a modern compass and radar, steering proved to be a very physical challenge. When the stern of the ship lifted up out of the water, the heavy oak rudder wanted to flop one way or the other. That force was transmitted pretty directly by way of the long tiller to the whipstaff. After bruising our chests several times, we rigged up a relieving line whipped around the steering pole that we could use as a shock absorber (maybe this is why it was called a whip-staff). Even so, maintaining a precise compass course was not possible. The best we could do was to keep heading generally south. Several hours before midnight, I noticed a series of blips on the south side of the radar screen in the general path we were taking. Each time the radar swept the screen, these blips would be slightly reconfigured. Over the next several minutes they became closer and better defined. Not knowing what they represented and visibility being poor, I chose to avoid the cluster and turned the ship west. There was plenty of searoom and I was prepared to return to our original course as soon as we cleared this cluster. As we came around, the ship’s motion over the waves changed. The captain, who had been sleeping in the master’s cabin, sensed the change in course, entered the hutch, looked at the compass, and forced the whipstaff over to port while I tried to explain the situation. He either couldn’t hear me or didn’t believe me and kept swearing that I was trying to wreck the ship on the Jersey shore. Within seconds, our forward lookout ran back and screamed that we were headed into a bunch of oil or gas barges. Now the captain understood, but it was almost too late. I pushed the whipstaff hard over to starboard and we came very close to one of the barges. It appeared that the tug had lost control of her tow. We saw a long towing cable come out of the water nearby and snap taut with a thunderous crack. I came off watch right after this incident and tried to catch a nap in the galley, but the recent close call and the jumping, corkscrew motion of the ship made sleep impossible. I also realized that in the event of an accident, getting out of the galley and up onto deck required navigating narrow passages, ladders and hatches. This prospect was not all that reassuring. I went back on watch several hours after midnight. The captain went back to bed. Ann and I shared the steering while the first mate served as lookout. The sky lightened around 6:00 AM. Ann and I came off watch and went below to make a hot breakfast on the galley stove. After putting some coffee on, we started with a large frying pan full of bacon. As that was getting close to being ready, we started making toast and frying eggs in a second pan. At that moment, our generator conked out and we were absolutely blind. The galley was a pretty confined space two decks down in the bow with no natural light. We hit a big roller and the pans skidded off the stove top, revealing the orange glow of the burners. The hot pans and bacon grease were all over the deck, so we jumped up into the bunks to keep from getting burned. Ann felt for a flashlight in one of the bunks and found one on a pillow. Let there be light! Miraculously, the bacon and eggs remained in their pans sunny-side up. The first mate fixed the generator, the lights, stove and toaster came back to life and we were able to serve a passable breakfast. Seasick Mike was better and was able to eat. A couple of exhausted goldfinches joined us as we approached Cape Henlopen and turned to enter Delaware Bay. A sail training schooner entered the bay well ahead of us but sailing before a favorable wind we eventually caught up with her. The wind increased to the point where it became prudent to trice (gather up) and furl the sails and come to anchor for the night. High winds associated with a dying offshore hurricane were forecast. We buttoned everything down. Ann prepared pasta and turkey meatballs for supper. Join us again next Friday for the Part 5, the last, of the "Half Moon" adventure! AuthorMuddy Paddle grew up near the Hudson River and always loved ships and boats. A job change in 1988 brought him to an office near the site where the Half Moon was being built and he became involved as a volunteer. Muddy learned the ways of seventeenth century sailing and accompanied the replica ship on a series of adventures and misadventures on the river, in New York Harbor and even offshore. He maintained a journal, which served as a reference for on-board terminology and operations as well as a place to record a few highlights of his trips. The accounts presented here, and several of the illustrations, were based on this journal and his recollection of these trips. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
0 Comments
Editor’s Note: The replica ship Half Moon was completed in Albany in 1989 and served as a cultural ambassador celebrating the role of the Dutch in naval architecture, exploration, international trade, and colonization. An earlier replica was built in Amsterdam and presented to the United States during the Hudson-Fulton Celebration in 1909. This first replica was not maintained after the celebration and did not survive long as a static exhibit at Bear Mountain and later at Cohoes. The 1989 replica performed well once her characteristics were understood and was exhibited in a number of ports along the Atlantic seaboard. Later, she served as valuable and successful educational platform on the Hudson River through her “Voyages of Discovery” program for school children. The ship is currently in the Netherlands after spending several years as an exhibit in Hoorn. To read more about the technology and terminology of sailing in the seventeenth century and later, John Harland’s Seamanship in the Age of Sail, 1984 (republished by the Naval Institute Press in 1987) is recommended. For an account of Henry Hudson’s four voyages of exploration, including his trip up the Hudson River in 1609, Donald Johnson’s Charting the Sea of Darkness, International Marine, 1993 is recommended. This latter book is dedicated to the shipwright who designed and built the replica, Nick Benton. Follow Muddy Paddle, Able Seaman aboard the replica ship Half Moon here. Film Star The Half Moon came to New York several years later in time to participate in a tall ships festival. Her berth was at Liberty State Park in New Jersey and she was open for visitors during some of her stay there. A few of her original volunteer builders were invited to crew during Operation Sail. Thousands of visitors boarded the ship at Jersey City and at Tarrytown during a celebratory cruise up the river. I proved to be a competent seaman but a lousy docent. I was finally taught the important lesson that it is better to introduce a single, memorable story than to try to download a sea of factoids about Hudson, his crew, the ship, seamanship in the seventeenth century and the Dutch influence on the development of America. A year or so later, I was invited to sail with the Half Moon to Highlands, New Jersey to exhibit the ship and then to board a film crew planning to use the ship in a film involving Hudson’s 1609 sail. Over the course of a weekend, several thousand visitors boarded and I was able to hone my newly acquired interpretive insights to everyone’s relief. On Monday morning, we took showers at a nearby office and the captain bought bags of Burger King for breakfast. The film crew came aboard with re-enactor outfits and we cast off lines at 8:30 AM. As we sailed southeast toward open water, our bearded captain was dressed up as Henry Hudson while the rest of us were given loose fitting linen outfits to wear as we climbed aloft, unfurled the sails and got the ship sailing with a 15-knot west wind. The film crew shot footage of all of us going about the work of bracing the yards, trimming the sails and steering the ship inside the helmsman’s hutch while Hudson looked imperiously on. The sea became blue as we sailed farther offshore and well beyond sight of land. It was exhilarating as the ship’s sails bellied out and the bow breasted growing waves. As we mounted each new wave, sparkling foam was thrown ahead and rainbows would momentarily appear. After a few hours, the film crew was confident that it had captured the footage it needed. The conditions could never have been so ideal. The captain took off his Hudson costume, directed us to launch the “dink,” our small inflatable raft, and took one of the members of the film team out to witness the ship sailing from the rolling sea. After the cameraman got sick, they returned. With the small outboard motor still idling, the captain directed me to get my camera and to take a little trip with him in the “dink.” The captain knew that I was keeping a journal of our sail and believed that I would appreciate this experience more than most. I passed my camera down to the raft on a short line and then climbed down the port main chains before expertly timing my jump into the raft. We motored away from the ship. When we were 500 feet or more out, the captain killed the motor and I took several stunning views of the ship sailing away from us. It was surreal to witness the wooden sailing ship plowing through the ocean from a small boat on the waves. It was easy to imagine a comparable scene in 1609. The ship was quickly putting distance between us when the captain pulled the cord on the outboard. It did not start. He pulled again, and once again there was no response. The ship was getting smaller and the Atlantic was getting a lot bigger. I recall looking around our raft to see what we had on board. My anxiety rose when I realized we had no radio, no water and no extra fuel. The captain’s worried look suggested that he too had taken the same mental inventory. To make matters worse, the remaining crewmembers were not experienced in the complicated tasks needed to return the ship to our location under sail, or even to furl the sails, turn the engine on, and motor the ship back. I don’t even know if anyone was really aware that there was a problem. Within minutes, we weren’t even going to be visible. The captain had reached the same conclusions. He yanked away at the cord until sweat trickled into his eyes. We took the cover off and tried to troubleshoot the problem as the ship became small on the horizon. After replacing the cover, he made one last heroic pull, and the motor came to life. Immediately, we shifted into gear and began bouncing off the waves in a desperate effort to catch up to the ship. We both wondered if we had enough gas to make it. No one noticed our return and no one was at the side of the rolling ship to take our line. We tied up to the chains, uttered some obscenities and got some help with our cameras before climbing back aboard. The captain immediately sent crew to stations. We braced the yards and turned the ship north, but we made too much leeway to make any progress toward Raritan Bay. Giving up, we triced or gathered up the sails, turned the engine on and proceeded northwest under power. A few of us went aloft to furl and gasket the sails, a tricky piece of work without footropes which were unknown in 1609. The motion of the ship as she slows to climb waves and then accelerates as she runs toward each trough is magnified aloft and the yards lurch forward and backward with each phase of the cycle. That was the first and last time I volunteered to furl a sail. Join us again next Friday for the Part 4 of the "Half Moon" adventure! AuthorMuddy Paddle grew up near the Hudson River and always loved ships and boats. A job change in 1988 brought him to an office near the site where the Half Moon was being built and he became involved as a volunteer. Muddy learned the ways of seventeenth century sailing and accompanied the replica ship on a series of adventures and misadventures on the river, in New York Harbor and even offshore. He maintained a journal, which served as a reference for on-board terminology and operations as well as a place to record a few highlights of his trips. The accounts presented here, and several of the illustrations, were based on this journal and his recollection of these trips. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
Editor’s Note: The replica ship Half Moon was completed in Albany in 1989 and served as a cultural ambassador celebrating the role of the Dutch in naval architecture, exploration, international trade, and colonization. An earlier replica was built in Amsterdam and presented to the United States during the Hudson-Fulton Celebration in 1909. This first replica was not maintained after the celebration and did not survive long as a static exhibit at Bear Mountain and later at Cohoes. The 1989 replica performed well once her characteristics were understood and was exhibited in a number of ports along the Atlantic seaboard. Later, she served as valuable and successful educational platform on the Hudson River through her “Voyages of Discovery” program for school children. The ship is currently in the Netherlands after spending several years as an exhibit in Hoorn. To read more about the technology and terminology of sailing in the seventeenth century and later, John Harland’s Seamanship in the Age of Sail, 1984 (republished by the Naval Institute Press in 1987) is recommended. For an account of Henry Hudson’s four voyages of exploration, including his trip up the Hudson River in 1609, Donald Johnson’s Charting the Sea of Darkness, International Marine, 1993 is recommended. This latter book is dedicated to the shipwright who designed and built the replica, Nick Benton. Follow Muddy Paddle, Able Seaman aboard the replica ship Half Moon here. Building the ship I was pretty skeptical when I first heard about it. Someone was planning to build a replica of Henry Hudson’s Half Moon, the ship Hudson sailed up the river now bearing his name in 1609. It seemed even more unlikely that construction would take place in Albany, a city with little in the way of docks or living maritime traditions. I realized the project was real when I drove past a downtown Albany parking lot along the river and was startled to see the outline of a wooden ship with a keel, a stem and a sternpost resting on thick timbers and braced in position. It was the summer of 1988. The original Half Moon was one of two “jagten” (yachts, meaning hunters or chasers) ordered by the VOC or Verenigde Oostindische Compagne (Dutch East India Company) in July, 1608. The Half Moon was to be 70 old Amsterdam feet long “binnen steven” (between stem and sternpost) 16 feet in beam and 8 feet depth of hold and she was to have a cabin fitted behind the mizzen mast. She carried a standard six-sail rig of the period and was built at the East India Company’s Scheeps-Timmer-Werf in Amsterdam in 1608-1609. Englishman Henry Hudson was employed by the VOC to search for a passage to the Far East in 1609 and set sail for the company aboard the new ship on March 25, 1609. Disregarding instructions, Hudson and his mixed Dutch and English crew explored much of the American east coast before sailing up the river that later bore his name in September. After the ship was returned to the Netherlands, she appears to have come to an accidental or deliberate end no later than 1618. The replica ship’s nascent frame was soon enclosed by a steel shed as the work of erecting frames (the ships wooden ribs) continued during the colder weather and into the winter. A job change took me to a downtown Albany building near this site, and I became involved as a volunteer, checking in at lunchtime, occasionally offering a little time at the end of the workday and helping on weekends. The Half Moon (Halve Maen in Dutch), replica was conceived of by Andrew Hendricks, a doctor from North Carolina with Dutch ancestry. Donations were solicited and volunteers welcomed. The ship was designed by Nick Benton, a young shipwright from Rhode Island. Benton travelled to Amsterdam and learned that the 1608 Halve Maen was quite different from the replica built in the Netherlands in 1909 for the Hudson Fulton Celebration. Subsequent research had uncovered the Dutch East India Company’s 1608 construction resolution which detailed critical dimensions and details. It was also theorized that hulls of this period were designed according to the Tangent Arc system instead of taking lines off of a model or drawings. As Benton described the system, frames were lofted directly using a system of mathematical proportions, straight edges and compasses. The resulting hull shape featured a very flat bottom, abrupt chines (the places where the hull changes from bottom to sides) and pronounced tumblehome (the sides are wider at the waterline than at the deck and “tumble” inward). The bow of the ship was very rotund while the stern was narrow and rose high above the intended waterline. We later learned that its high profile worked like the tail of a weathervane in maintaining the ship’s course while reaching and tacking, that is, sailing across the wind or slightly into the wind at an angle. In addition to Benton, the Albany work force consisted of Nicholas Miller who served as the foreman and an enthusiastic group of volunteers, many of whom brought useful skills and experiences to the team. After a temporary steel shed was built over the keel and the first positioned frames, several volunteers served as docents, explaining the project to visitors and encouraging participation. The project was promoted in the local press and advertised with car cards on city busses. There was an aggressive schedule to launch and sail the ship in the summer of 1989. This necessitated a non-traditional approach to the ship’s construction. Unlike the traditionally framed original ship or the 1909 replica, the structural members of the hull were all pre-fabricated and shaped offsite using glue laminated oak. Likewise, the decorative flourishes, cannon, rigging and sails were all being produced elsewhere by specialty contractors while the hull was under construction. Each frame was a composite, bolted together from multiple futtocks (sections of the ribs), braced at the top for rigidity and tilted into position. The frames were temporarily held in position by ribbands, scrap strips of wood, until the inner and outer coverings gradually replaced them. One pair of frames in the stern was misshapen, and they could not be shaped true. The tight schedule dictated using them anyway. The bulges remained but were not noticeable because they were below the waterline. The ship’s structural frame was completed in February of 1989 and was almost 30 feet in height. The interior of the hull was graceful, symmetrical, and might have been likened to the inverted rib cage of a huge whale. Ceiling planking (sheathing of the interior) and deck clamps (curving planks that would carry the deck beams) were installed next, followed by the exterior planking. This was also done in a non-traditional way by nailing and gluing one-inch strip planks to the frames. These were followed by two layers of plywood laid in diagonal strips and then covered by an outer shell of Kevlar up to the waterline. Scaffolding was raised as the sides grew in height. Laminated deck beams were installed and the decks were built as epoxy sandwiches of thin planks and plywood. Some volunteers quipped that the ship should be renamed the Half Glue. The volunteers quickly learned that few cuts were guided by straight lines. Everything was curved, cambered, beveled and often bent, requiring the use of templates and some degree of estimation. Once the main deck was completed, the large band saw was winched up and installed on deck near the main hatch, making the fitting of the forecastle (the small cabin in the bow), half deck and poop deck easier. The Launch The temporary shed was removed on June 6 and the hull was launched on June 10. It rained hard the night before and the bilges filled with rainwater. On the morning of the launch, volunteers desperately tried to pump out as much of this water as possible; there was some discussion that the crane hired to place the ship in the water was barely rated to handle the weight of the hull dry. A crowd assembled along the river and small boats motored out into the Hudson for the event. The owner’s wife christened the ship by breaking champagne on the bow. The crane successfully picked the hull up and then crawled over a bed of timbers to the river’s edge where the ship was gradually lowered into the river amidst cheers and musket fire. Later, we learned that the crane’s boom cable had come out of its seat and that it was a small miracle that a complete failure had been avoided. Work on the upper portions of the hull resumed almost immediately. Nick Benton began the training of the volunteer sailing crew the following week. We learned of the appropriate roles of the ship’s officers, the difference between commands and orders, and seventeenth century sailing handling techniques. Goosewinging, lacing-on-bonnets, up-ending the sprits’l, cockbilling, tricing, club-hauling and smiting became part of our new lexicon. Each sail and its handing were covered separately. Days later, Benton was killed in a shocking accident on the other side of the river in Rensselear. He was removing the shrouds from a coastal schooner when the mast he was perched atop broke, pitching him 80 feet down to the deck below. It was his 35th birthday. Sadly, his wife and children witnessed the accident. A memorial service was arranged aboard the Half Moon two weeks later. Nick was the charismatic force behind the project, and although it continued, the enthusiasm of the volunteers and the pace of work waned. The summer tour schedule, revised many times, was finally scrapped. Nevertheless, the shipbuilders and volunteers found several ways to shake off the gloom. Once the masts were stepped and the main yard and sail were rigged, an evening film festival was staged, projecting images onto the huge sail. Gunnery practices with the replica cannon (four brass three pounders mounted on the orlop deck) were scheduled. One volunteer slipped a small concrete-filled can into the muzzle of one of the guns and watched it hit the far bank of the river. On another occasion, a blank round was fired just as a local dinner cruise boat was docking behind the ship, startling the pilot and making him miss his landing. A complaint was lodged with the Coast Guard. As the rigging neared completion, plans were made to turn the ship around so that finish work could be more easily completed on the starboard side. This became an excuse to take the ship out for an “evening spin,” which became her unofficial maiden voyage. It was a near disaster. Join us again next Friday for the Part 2 of the "Half Moon" adventure! AuthorMuddy Paddle grew up near the Hudson River and always loved ships and boats. A job change in 1988 brought him to an office near the site where the Half Moon was being built and he became involved as a volunteer. Muddy learned the ways of seventeenth century sailing and accompanied the replica ship on a series of adventures and misadventures on the river, in New York Harbor and even offshore. He maintained a journal, which served as a reference for on-board terminology and operations as well as a place to record a few highlights of his trips. The accounts presented here, and several of the illustrations, were based on this journal and his recollection of these trips. If you enjoyed this post and would like to support more history blog content, please make a donation to the Hudson River Maritime Museum or become a member today!
|
AuthorThis blog is written by Hudson River Maritime Museum staff, volunteers and guest contributors. Archives
May 2024
Categories
All
|
GET IN TOUCH
Hudson River Maritime Museum
50 Rondout Landing Kingston, NY 12401 845-338-0071 info@hrmm.org Contact Us |
GET INVOLVED |
stay connected |