As we approach the opening of our new exhibit, "A New Age of Sail: The History and Future of Sail Freight on the Hudson River," we thought we'd introduce this classic folk song about a collier named Nightingale by Stan Rogers. In it, a brave captain sacrifices himself to save his crew.

Rogers was a Canadian folk singer who wrote "The Flowers of Bermuda" in 1978, apparently based on a true story. He wrote of the song, "I took my first trip to Bermuda in May, 1978 and loved it. While I was there, I discovered that the whole area around Bermuda is a kind of ship graveyard. I found a map showing the location of most of the known wrecks and discovered that a coal carrier called the Nightingale sank off the North Rock in the early 1880s. The rest of the details are pure invention, except for the fact that Bermuda is lovely."

There was in fact a collier named Nightingale, although she foundered in the North Atlantic in the 1890s, not Bermuda in the 1880s. However, North Rock Reef in Bermuda was home to several shipwrecks, and you can still dive some today. Stephen Winick of Sing Out! magazine looked further into the history of Rogers' song and ship, and may have found the real vessel that inspired the song. 

Colliers were important cargo sailing vessels throughout the 19th and 20th centuries as they were able to ship coal without using any of it to fuel themselves. Bermuda was an important coaling station for the British Royal Navy's steamships and so the semi-fictional Nightingale would have been bringing coal from England or the United States to resupply the coaling station at Bermuda. Early steamships could not carry enough coal to go long distances without refueling, so stations like Bermuda were crucial to Naval operations. 

The Flowers Of Bermuda
by Stan Rogers

He was the captain of the Nightingale
Twenty-One days from clyde in coal.
He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale,
When he died on the North Rock Shoal.
​
Just five short hours from Bermuda, in a fine October gale,
There came a cry "O there be breakers dead ahead!"
From the Collier Nightingale.
No sooner had the captain brought her round,
Came a rending crash below.
Hard on her beam ends groaning went the Nightingale,
And overside her mainmast goes.

He was the captain of the Nightingale
Twenty-One days from clyde in coal.
He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale,
When he died on the North Rock Shoal.

"O Captain are we all for drowning?"
Came the cry from all the crew. "The boats be smashed,
How are we all then to be saved?
They are stove in through and through."
Oh, are ye brave and hearty collier men?
Or are ye blind and cannot see?
The captain's gig still lies before ye whole and sound.
It shall carry all O' we.

He was the captain of the Nightingale
Twenty-One days from clyde in coal.
He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale,
When he died on the North Rock Shoal.

But when the crew was all assembled,
And the gig prepared for sea,
Twas seen there were but eighteen places to be manned,
Nineteen mortal souls were we.
But cries the captain "now do ye not delay,
Nor do ye spare a thought for me,
My duty is to save ye all now if I can,
See ye return quick as can be."

He was the captain of the Nightingale
Twenty-One days from clyde in coal.
He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale,
When he died on the North Rock Shoal.

Oh there be flowers in Bermuda. Beauty lies on every hand.
And there be laughter, ease, and drink for every man,
But there is no joy for me.
For when we reached the wretched Nightingale,
What an awful sight was plain,
The captain drowned, lay tangled in the mizzen chain,
Smiling bravely beneath the sea.

He was the captain of the Nightingale
Twenty-One days from clyde in coal.
He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale,
When he died on the North Rock Shoal.

In 1964, New York hosted the World's Fair. The theme was "Peace Though Understanding."  As part of the festivities, an unusual sight was to be seen in New York Harbor that summer - a sight likely not seen for at least a few decades (although probably less time than most spectators would expect) - a gathering of large square-rigged vessels from all over the world. 

Operation Sail - also known as OpSail - was founded as a non-profit in 1961 and coordinates international sailing events centered around promoting goodwill and cooperation between nations as well as celebrating maritime history and sail training efforts around the world. The 1964 World's Fair was OpSail's inaugural event. On July 14, 1964, a parade of some of the world's last windjammers took place through New York Harbor. British Pathe covered the event: 

"Gathering of Great Ships" by Anthony Anable, Jr. 
The Jan-June, 1964 issue of Boating magazine included the following article describing the origins and plans for the 1964 OpSail:

On July 14th, if the wind is fair, New York Harbor will be treated to a sight not seen in over half a century; a fleet of square-rigged ships slipping in under thousands of square feet of sail. As they pick up their moorings in the river, they will be completing a history-making voyage that for most of them began in Lisbon six weeks ago. "Operation Sail" will be the largest rendezvous of square-riggers - now mostly maritime training vessels - assembled in any port in modern times.

As of this writing, 13 countries will send some 25 sailing craft to participate in "Operation Sail," and by the time July 14th - the rendezvous date - rolls around it is hoped that the latter figure will be doubled. While the fleet will consist of all manner of ships, boats and yachts, the most spectacular sight will be ten, or more, full-rigged ships, barks, brigantines and topsail schooners towering above their smaller sisters as they move up the river.

Nations sending vessels are, in alphabetical order: Argentina, the full-rigged ship Libertad and the yacht Fortuna; Canada, the privately-owned brigantine St. Lawrence II; Chile, the four-masted schooner Esmerelda; Republic of China (no training ship, but a contingent of midshipmen and a 70-foot junk from San Francisco); Denmark, the bark Danmark; Dominican Republic, the bark Patria; Germany, the bark Gorch Fock; Great Britain, (two yachts, as yet unspecified); and Italy, the yawl Corsaro II. Also Japan, a motor training ship; Norway, either one or all of the Christian Radich, the Sorlandet and the Staatsraad Lemkuhl, all full-rigged ships; Panama, the three-masted schooner Wandia; Portugal, the full-rigged ship Sagres; and Spain, the four-masted schooner Juan Sebastian de Elcano.

Undecided as of this writing are Sweden's Albatross; Poland's three-masted schooner Iskra; Romania's bark Mircea; and Nova Scotia's Bluenose II, a replica of the original fisherman owned by Col. Victor deB. Oland. 

The United States will be represented by the bark Eagle from the Coast Guard Academy, which will be the host ship; the Icefire and Mariner from the Merchant Marine Academy; Freedom and Royono from the Naval Academy; the brigantine Tabor Boy from Tabor Academy, Marion, Mass.; and the bark Joseph Conrad and the schooners L. A. Dunston and Brilliant from Mystic Seaport, Mystic, Conn.

Operation Sail grew from one man's dream
Nils Hansell, an ardent yachtsman and Art Director of the IBM Journal of Research and Development, was among an admiring crowd gazing at the Coast Guard's stately bark Eagle lying along a New York City dock in the early spring of 1960. He wondered to himself what it would be like if most, if not all, of the square-riggers in the world were to convene in New York Harbor and then participate in the ceremonies to be held in the city and at the grounds of the World's Fair.

Contronted with Nils' idea, the Coast Guard and the State Department were among the first to endorse the proposal. An "Operation Sail" committee was formed and included Hansell, Frank O. Braynard, Director of Information for Moran Towing and Transportation Co., and Commodore John S. Baylis, former Superintendent of the New York State Maritime College and a retired Coast Guard officer. General Chairman of "Operation Sail" is John J. Bergen, Rear Admiral USNR (Ret.); Chairman of the Executive Committee is the well-known yachtsman Walter S. Gubelmann.

Further endorsement came from many sources including New York Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller, who sent out invitations to more than 20 countries requesting participation; New York Senator Jacob K. Javits; New York City Mayor Robert F. Wagner; General Dwight D. Eisenhower; Capt. Alan Villiers, skipper of Mayflower II; Edouard A. Stackpole, Curator of Mystic Seaport; and Prince Philip of England. Also endorsing "Operation Sail" are the federally-sponsored People-to-People Program; the Sail Training Association of London; and most recently, the late President John F. Kennedy. 

Impressive as are these, and other endorsements, the success of "Operation Sail" will be due to the efforts of Braynard, Baylis and Hansell, all of whom have given freely of their time and money to arrange the whole program.

A trans-Atlantic race will begin many events
The program will begin on June 5th with a race from Lisbon, Portugal to Bermuda. Sponsored by the Sail Training Association, there will be four classes of vessels competing; Class Ia for square-rigged vessels of 500 tons and over; Class Ib for square-rigged vessels between 50-499 tons; Class II for fore-and-aft rigged vessels of 50 tons and over; and Class III for fore-and-aft rigged vessels under 50 tons and over 30 feet on the waterline.

Those ships participating in the race will convene with others at Bermuda and will embark in company for New York City, where they are expected to arrive on July 12th. They will lie at anchor off Graves End for two days, until the fleet is complete, and on July 14th will set sail and head out to sea for about 10 miles for the benefit of press photographers and the huge spectator fleet which is expected to cluster about the windjammers. The flotilla will then come about, make for the Narrows, and will enter New York Harbor and the Hudson River. Whether they will be able to sail up the river is anybody's guess at the moment, but if a fair wind fails to materialize the ships will power, or be towed, along the parade route.

Upon making fast to moorings assigned to them, all hands will take up review positions on deck and the yardarms as the Reviewing Vessel proceeds along the formation. Although not yet assigned, either the Navy's Enterprise, the country's newest carrier, or Mystic Seaport's Joseph Conrad, the maritime museum's famed square-rigger, may be the Reviewing Vessel. Whichever wins the honor, she will have an impressive company of dignitaries striding her decks, including the President of the United States, the Governor of the State of New York, the Mayor of New York City, several Ambassadors, distinguished guests, and reviewing officers. 

The second day of the planned ceremonies will see the crews of the various ships assembling at the Battery with escort contingents from the U.S. Coast Guard Academy, the U. S. Merchant Marine Academy and/or the New York State Maritime College. Thus formed, the cadets and their escorts will proceed under a ticker-tape parade to New York's City Hall for the Mayor's Reception.

Following the formalities, numerous events are planned throughout the week for officers and crew alike. A full-dress inspection of the ships is planned; a symposium for the officers and contests of seamanship for the crews will be held; and it is expected that television networks will program various national groups singing sea chanties. Receptions at the Merchant Marine Academy and various consulates are planned, as are such divertissements as longboat racing near the World's Fair Marina, soccer games between ships's [sic] crews, and sightseeing trips to Washington, D.C., the Coast Guard Academy in New London, Conn., and Mystic Seaport.

The program will come to a close at the World's Fair grounds, where plaques, prizes and certificates will be presented. That evening an Operation Sail Grand Ball will be held at Madison Square Garden with the Naval Attaches as Honorary Patrons. The following day the cadets will set sail and the ships will disperse for their various home ports. 

The project is a tribute to training under sail
In this modern age of nuclear power and Polaris missiles, it may seem odd that so many nations train their naval and merchant marine cadets under sail. However, such training has many advantages, not the least of which is learning a respect for the sea - which makes equal demands of a huge carrier or a brigantine. There is no better way to gain an intimate knowledge of these natural forces than to serve in sail.

As Nils Hansell - whose feeling for the sea resulted in the project - put it:

"Operation Sail in New York excites the imagination of so many of us. Sailing ships of all kinds, large and small and fore-and-aft and square-rigged, will crowd the harbor for a sight that few shall have seen before, and one that may never come again.

"But for all the excitement of the many masts and sails, the show will be meaningful, for these are sail training ships manned by seamen trainees. Their work aboard is not easy. Discipline is firm. They will have sailed from distant shores, on foul winds probably as much as fair or, sometimes, no winds at all.

"Theirs should prove an exciting demonstration of training under sail as a way for character building of young men in today's world."

This, then, is "Operation Sail." Not only a demonstration of training under sail, but a reaffirmation of the fact that great sailing ships still span the seven seas.

The following tall ships ultimately participated in the 1964 Operation Sail:

• Argentina, Libertad
• Canada, Bluenose II
• Canada, St. Lawrence II
• Chile, Esmeralda
• Denmark, Danmark
• Dominican Republic, Patria
• Germany, Gorch Fock
• Germany, Peter von Danzig
• Great Britain, Merlin
• Great Britain, Tawau
• Indonesia, Dewarutji
• Italy, Corsaro II
• Norway, Christian Radich
• Norway, Sørlandet
• Norway, Statsraad Lehmkuhl
• Panama, Wandia
• Poland, Iskra
• Portugal, Sagres
• Romania, Mircea
• Spain, Juan Sebastián de Elcano
• Sweden, Albatross
• United States, Eagle

​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!​

This one's for the film buffs AND the sailing buffs! Today's Media Monday post features the 1958 film Windjammer: The Voyage of the Christian Radich. Filmed aboard the Norwegian three-masted bark Christian Radich, "Windjammer" was filmed in the groundbreaking (and short-lived) Cinemiracle wide screen process. Long before IMAX, Cinemiracle was a strikingly immersive film experience for 1958, and Windjammer was the only feature-length film ever produced by this process.

Based on a book written by Allan J. Villiers, the film follows a crew of young Norwegian men on a sail training mission aboard the Christian Radich. The film covers a journey of 17,500 nautical miles from Norway to Madiera, the Dutch West Indies, Puerto Rico, Trinidad, Philadelphia, New York, and Boston before heading back to Oslo across the North Atlantic and around Scotland. Although the young crew of the vessel (some as young as 14) are numerous, the storyline focuses on only a few, including one boy training to be a concert pianist. The entire film runs about 2 hours and 30 minutes (including prologue and intermission). 

It premiered at Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood April 8, 1958, and on April 9, 1958 premiered at the Roxy Theater in New York City on a curved, 40 foot high by 100 foot long screen. It needed three film projectors to synchronize the wind screen format. The screen size and curve (nearly identical to Cinerama) made the viewer feel as if they were immersed in the film. And as you'll see below, the film started out in standard format, the screen flanked by theater curtains, which were then drawn back to expose the enormous wide screen. 

The film was later converted to Cinerama, which required only one projector, not three. It went on to be nominated for several awards, and was so popular in Norway that in 1959 it was seen in Oslo more times than there were people in city. You can watch the restored trailer below.

No Cinemiracle or Cinerama theaters survive today, but the Christian Radich does. Built in 1937 specifically as a sail training vessel for Norway, she remained at that post until the 1990s. Today, she is operated as a private vessel that offers sightseeing tours of coastal Norway and sail training for young people - as she originally intended. 

​Windjammer is available for streaming purchase on Amazon Prime. If you want to learn more about Windjammer, including the technical process, screenings, interviews with cast and crew, etc., visit here. 

And if you're curious about historic sailing vessels, be sure to check out our upcoming 2022 exhibit, "A New Age of Sail: The History and Future of Sail Freight on the Hudson River," Opening May 1, 2022!

​​​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!​

In honor of our upcoming lecture, "The History and Future of Grain Races," as well as our upcoming exhibit on sail freight (currently under development), we thought we'd share this amazing historical film featuring footage from the bark "Peking" (formerly at South Street Seaport, now returned to her native Germany) as it sailed around Cape Horn in 1929.

The film is silent, but narrated by Captain Irving Johnson, who was aboard "Peking" during this voyage and took all of the film footage with a camera he had brought with him. He was only 24 at the time. Johnson continued a career as a sailor, and met his wife, Electa "Exy" Johnson, while working aboard a schooner bound for France. They married in 1932 and went on to circumnavigate the globe together, teaching young sailors, and writing several books, articles, and producing several films based on their adventures. Their papers are now held in the collection of Mystic Seaport.

For a glimpse into the later sailing expeditions of Captain and First Mate Johnson, check out this wonderful story map put together by Mystic Seaport charting their 1956 circumnavigation aboard the brigantine "Yankee" with a student crew.

​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!​

Today's Featured Artifact is one of our favorite model boats - this beautiful model of a brick schooner. Over 100 years old, the model was originally owned by Captain Charles A. Hunt, an active yachtsman on the Hudson River, who owned an 80’ sloop named The Fearless. This model was donated to HRMM by Charles Hunt's’ granddaughter Elizabeth Brockway McCormack in 1985. The model is plank-on-frame and fully rigged. It's also larger than it looks, measuring 5'11" long, 16" wide, and nearly 5 feet (59") high.

The Brockway family had an extensive brickyard just north of Beacon (learn more about what's left of the Brockway Brickyards). The Brockway Brickyard was started in 1886 when Edwin Brockway purchased 70 acres just north of Beacon, NY. The village was named after the brickyard, which continued in operation as one of the largest in the Hudson Valley until it closed 1931.

This model is an example of a brick schooner. Used on the Hudson from 1830s-1920s, these types of schooners were a cost effective way to ship the heavy bricks from Hudson Valley brickyards to New York City and up and down the Eastern seaboard. Schooners and sloops specialized in heavy or bulky cargoes. Early in the century they transported grain, coal, ice, bluestone, bricks, cement, and even hay. Later in the 19th and early 20th centuries, the very heavy cargoes such as bricks, bluestone, and cement were the primary sail cargoes on the Hudson River. Requiring no fuel and carrying a non-perishable cargo, the only expense to operate them was the crew, which made them much cheaper than steamboats and tugboats. And unlike barges which needed to be towed and were not necessarily ocean-worthy, schooners could and did easily sail right out of New York Harbor and up and down the coast for deliveries farther afield. 

If you'd like to visit this beautiful model, it is currently on display as part of our mini exhibit on the Hudson River brick industry in the East Gallery of the museum.

Anchoring and lowering the topmasts in Delaware Bay

We assigned pairs to a series of one-hour anchor watches for the evening to make sure that our anchor held and to quickly identify any other potential emergencies. At midnight, the wind was really howling and the ship heeled over alarmingly several times, bringing a few others including feline crewmember Mrs. Freeboard up on deck. The anchor held, and by 4:00 AM, the wind subsided and the stars came out.
 
After a hearty breakfast, we set about the task of lowering our topmasts and topgallant poles so that we could take the ship into Wilmington later in the day. We underestimated the difficulty of accomplishing this at anchor with inexperienced volunteers. Taking each mast in turn, the plan was to attach a line to the topmast heel, pass it over the grooved mast cap and run it aft to a fife rail where a snatch block was rigged to direct the line to the capstan (a big rotating drum turned by handspikes or bars and used for heavy work). The crew would man the bars, take the strain and lift the topmast an inch so that the fid piece securing it could be knocked out. The crew would then gently walk the capstan backward until the crosstrees were in the tops.
​

​It was a sound plan. We began with the foretopmast. As soon as the strain came on the line, the wooden block at the fiferail shattered and the mast jumped down a good distance before the capstan took the shock. A small piece of the block’s wooden shell dropped harmlessly to the deck while the larger chunk whistled off at 100 mph toward New Castle. Fortunately the capstan and the crew held. The mast was lowered the remainder of the way without the block.
 
The maintopmast proved to be a bigger challenge. We used a modern steel block for this episode. When the bars were manned, Mike knocked out the fid block, and we lowered the topmast down several feet where we discovered that it was unable to drop clear of the main yard. We secured the line and rigged tyes (safety lines) to the yard in preparation for lowering. It would not budge. The yard had not been shifted since installation in Albany, and the necklace, securing it to the mast was now thoroughly infused with varnish. I had to harness up, cut some of the seizings, and then jump on the yard to get it to move. After getting Mike on the yard with me and spraying WD 40 on everything, we were able to work the yard down far enough for the topmast to drop into position well below the point where the topmast would drop.
​

​The next challenge was recovering our anchor so that we could get underway. We motored up to the anchor, pulling in the heavy cable along the way until we were “up-and-down,” that is the cable was now vertical between the hawse hole in the bow and the anchor down below. We attached a messenger line to the cable and led it back to the capstan. We manned the bars but the anchor was apparently buried deep in the mud. Last night’s high winds were surely a factor in burying the anchor so securely. We had to wait for slack tide before we could successfully bring it up. We were going to be late for the grand arrival.
 
It was dark when we entered the Christiana Creek leading into the Wilmington waterfront and our running lights failed. We sent the first mate out in the dink with a flashlight to find the way to our dock. He returned and led the ship there with his flashlight. We cleared a highway bridge with inches to spare, and had difficulty docking in the dark. The crowd that had planned to greet us was gone and all that remained were a few organizers and some warm beers.
 
Afterword

After a day in Wilmington, the Half Moon continued south to Washington, D.C. I had to get back to work and took the next train home to New York. Returning from Washington, tugboat captain Chip Reynolds came aboard. He took command of the ship during the return voyage and began a long and distinguished association with the ship marked by a much needed emphasis on safety. Countless school children sailed with the Half Moon on educational “voyages of discovery” between New York and Albany, and many of the lessons were filmed live to home classrooms by Skype. Reynolds had a crew of schoolchildren aboard the Half Moon in New York harbor when the planes were flown into the two towers of the World Trade Center in 2001. He kept everyone calm, and brought the children safely up the river where they could be reunited with family.
 
I joined the ship one last time in 2006 at the end of the sailing season to bring the ship to her winter berth in Verplank. We sailed much of that distance before a stiff and cold northwest wind. It was an exhilarating experience as we raced down the river between the Catskills and the Highlands during peak autumn color.
​

​In 2015, the voyages of discovery were suspended, Captain Reynolds was discharged and the Half Moon was sent to the Netherlands, arriving in August. She then proceeded to the Westfries Ship Museum in Hoorn where she was exhibited. There has been discussion about returning the ship to the United States in the near future but to date, no specific plan has been announced.
​

​​Building and sailing replica ships offers rare insight into worlds which no longer exist. Design details that at first seem frivolous or impractical are often revealed to make perfect sense as construction proceeds or as experience is gained operating the ship. Replicas help us to understand that our ancestors were not only daring and courageous, but equally ingenious and practical. Getting kids involved in these projects offers lessons in discipline, leadership and self-confidence and is a sure way to cultivate a deep appreciation for our maritime heritage. 

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.
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Join us again next Friday for the Part 5, the last, of the "Half Moon" adventure!

​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.
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The Maiden Voyage

​It was mentioned earlier that the 1609 Half Moon carried a standard six-sail rig of the period. This means that she carried a foremast and a mainmast, each spreading two square sails to drive the ship as well as a bowsprit and a mizzen spreading smaller sails that helped supplement the rudder to steer the ship, or more accurately position the ship’s angle relative to the wind direction. The foremast and mainmasts are comprised of three connected spars each; a heavy mast rising 30 to 40 feet above the deck; a lighter topmast 20 to 25 feet in length rising up above the circular tops colloquially called “crows’nests” and topgallant poles rising a little less than 20 feet above crosstrees at the top of each topgallant mast. The combined height of the mainmast assembly was approximately 78 feet above the waterline. The mizzenmast at the stern of the ship was shorter and lighter carrying only one sail and comprised of only one large spar and one short pole above that. The bowsprit overhanging the bow of the ship was shaped from a single spar. The replica Half Moon was fitted with an engine to facilitate movement when wind and tide were not favorable. Adding an engine was also intended to add a margin of safety and reliability to the replica’s operations. 

The unofficial but actual maiden voyage of the replica Half Moon took place just before sunset early in October, 1989. The ship was docked on her port side where she was held off of the bulkhead by a steel camel or pontoon. The work on this side was complete and it was time to turn the ship around so that the starboard side would be more accessible. After the volunteers arrived, lines were cast off. A paid member of the construction crew took command and the ship proceeded south under her own power. At the Port of Albany, our provisional captain ordered the helmsman to make a hard port turn. The helm was slow to answer, owing to the placement of the propeller on the port side of the ship and the relatively small surface area of our rudder. It took most of the width of the river to turn the ship around and to head back north to our dock. After straightening up, our captain gave the engine more throttle and we found that steering improved. We were sailing with the incoming tide and making rapid progress. A west wind picked up and even with sails furled, our ship heeled gently over.

​By now, a few boaters had begun to follow us and snap off photographs of the scene against an atmospheric sunset. We approached our dock and the highway bridge just north of it very quickly. The captain planned to proceed to the bridge, turn, and then dock with the starboard side to the wall. Once again, the ship was very slow to make a port turn. The ship’s momentum and the tide were quickly carrying us to the bridge which had a vertical clearance of less than 70 feet. Our captain shifted to reverse, and revved up the engine, but reverse failed to engage. As our foremast approached the bridge, all of the crew on deck tried to find cover. Some dove into the forecastle or down the main hatch. One dove into the river. The foretopgallant mast struck the bridge, broke off and went into the river. The taller main topmast was next in line to strike the bridge and would have resulted in a lot of falling spars and blocks and cordage. Fortunately, reverse engaged at the last second and the mast was spared. Our captain sheepishly landed at our dock. As a token of humiliation, the broken fore topgallant mast was hooked by one of the boaters and towed to us for presentation while we secured lines. Within hours, a replacement was hastily planed down from a long fir timber and raised into position before the owner of the ship arrived the next day for an inspection.

Sea Trials
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Several days later, plans were made to send the Half Moon down to New York on a shakedown cruise. An experienced pilot was hired. The crew returned with sea bags in hand for a trip down the river. Once the owner came aboard, we cast off lines, started the engine and moved away from the dock. Cannon fire from the Rensselaer shoreline saluted the ship as she moved into the main channel.
 
The trouble began almost immediately. Smoke billowed out of the engine compartment and up and out of the main hatch. While a few folks went below for fire extinguishers, our new pilot quickly reviewed the options and decided to run for the docks at the Port of Rensselear and get everyone off the ship. Several of us gathered up lines to secure the ship as soon as we touched. The pilot killed the engine and we hit the dock with a thud, breaking the rampant lion figurehead. After the smoke cleared we learned that the shaft bearings had overheated. The engine and the shaft were misaligned. The trip was cancelled. We all took our gear and departed. A week or so later, a tugboat named Spuyten Duyvil came up the river, attached a towline to the Half Moon’s forward bitts and unceremoniously towed the ship to New York and then to Bridgeport for drydocking. From there, she was taken to North Carolina. Thus ended the first chapter of Half Moon’s Albany story and her association with most of her original volunteers and would-be sailors.

​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.

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​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.
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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.
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​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.