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Captain Creesy called upon S. Griffitts Morgan, the agent for Grinnell, Minturn & Company, to arrange for the discharge of the Flying Cloud's cargo at Cunningham's Wharf. Morgan hailed from New Bedford, Massachusetts, and was a friend and partner of Francis S. Hathaway, also of New Bedford, who owned a one-eighth-share of the Flying Cloud, and the two had consigned a considerable quantity of merchandise aboard the clipper.

Despite the auger holes incident off the coast of Argentina, most of the Flying Cloud's cargo was hauled off in excellent condition. Some seawater had leaked into the stocks of whiskey and brandy and a consignment of steel shovels was damaged.

For the next two months, the local newspapers advertised the merchandise from the Flying Cloud, along with that of the N.B. Palmer, that had arrived from New York ten days earlier, after a passage of 108 days.

One item of the Flying Cloud's merchandise of considerable interest was the consignment of butter that Hathaway and Morgan had shipped around the Horn and was mentioned in the September 15th edition of the California Courier:

We never fully realized the wonderful rapidity of the Flying Cloud until yesterday. Happening in at Turnbull & Walton's corner of Sansome and Jackson Streets in San Francisco, we saw a consignment of spring butter, from the well known dairy of A. Vandyke of Roxbury, N.Y. It is not only as sweet as a nut, but has the same delicious flavor that marks fresh butter from the hands of the milkmaid. Just think of eating butter in San Francisco on the heel of summer, that was made in New York in May, and you will feel that the Flying Cloud has indeed "walked the waters like a thing of life.

William Eaton directed the gang of stevedores in the unloading of the Flying Cloud's cargo and the cleaning of her hold to make the ship ready to take on ballast for the passage across the Pacific. The Flying Cloud's sails were loosed and furled and her holds pumped dry and the exterior of the ship was repainted. The Lyons continued to live aboard the Flying Cloud while all this activity was going on.

Other exciting events were going on throughout the world as well around this same time. As the Flying Cloud was racing up the California Coast on the last leg of her historic voyage, the New York yacht America successfully challenged the cream of the British yachting fleet off the Isle of Wight. The Collins steamship liner Pacific was the first vessel to make a run to Liverpool in less than ten days. The day after the Flying Cloud's arrival in San Francisco, the first train traveled from New York to Albany over the new Hudson River Railroad in five hours; two hours faster than the river steamboats had ever covered the same distance.

* * * * *

On August 21st, the N. B. Palmer had arrived through the Golden Gate, ten days ahead of the Flying Cloud, and had anchored in the stream off the San Francisco piers. The Low's agents requested the towing of the "Palmer" over to the dock to discharge her cargo and the pilot refused to respond to Captain Low and the agents.

All the lessons learned from his life at sea would come into play as an impatient Captain Charles Porter Low in his REMINISCENCES recalls: ". . . assuming all responsibility, hove up the anchor, set all sails including skysails, and on the ebb tide, with a light beam" as the N. B. Palmer responded nimbly to her captain and crew's wishes and slowly moved in while backing the main yard and the giant clipper slowed down enough to glide alongside the wharf "with scarcely a jar."

It is said that "the assembled crowd cheered most hartily and the feat was long remembered as the prettiest piece of seamanship ever done in San Francisco."

Sarah Lyons, in letters to family back in Massachusetts, wrote of plans to stay put until Ellen's wedding took place aboard the Flying Cloud at the Creesys' request. Sarah wrote of Ellen’s plans for starting her new life with Reuben in Oregon, and of being "thronged with visitors ever since we arrived in port."

The two sisters went off on daily and evening excursions out past the big gates at the end of Cunningham's Wharf. Where the planks began that ran along the muddy streets in various stages of disrepair; all the way to Montgomery Street, with Sarah all the while taking notice of "some fine buildings, many going up" around her, many in just the past three months since the last fire swept through the city, the sixth fire in the past year and a half.

Through the smoldering ruins, the city moved eastward filling in the bay as progress moved along at a furious pace, often filling right around converted ships used for business and warehouse purposes. Additional wharves were under hasty construction and now jutted further out into the bay. Frame and canvas buildings were everywhere about, hastily erected structures to store and market the incoming cargoes of the then almost daily arriving clippers from the East. New buildings were erected on piles.

Very soon, Sarah observed, there would be little trace of the fires. She had found a "flourishing" city and took pleasure in riding the omnibus between Portsmouth Square and Mission Delores taking in the sights along the way. Besides the Jenny Lind Theatre, Sarah Lyons was most intrigued with the famous gambling saloons. Sarah described to her family in her letters home:

The women behind the tables and piles of gold before them and the most bewitching music, the saloons brilliantly lighted with Chandeliers and filled to overflowing with people.

The selection of dry goods the Lyon sisters encountered in the shops pleased them. Especially the "splendid China shawls and goods of every description." The San Franciscan shops were said by European travelers to have a "Parisian elegance" to them, "but such prices," wrote Sarah, as the two shopped around the city and made preparations for Ellen's wedding.

Lemuel Lyons came down from Oregon on September 9th, and soon presented Ellen with a wedding gift of "a whole piece" of fine cloth for her bridal gown and some for Sarah, too. It would soon come in handy.

Whitney left the ship often and went exploring about town while attending to his chores and errands. All the while, seemingly oblivious to the activities of the First Vigilante Committee's ongoing, though receding, efforts to quench the recent wave of anarchy and lawlessness, along with the fires that had so recently wrecked havoc upon the community.

But Whitney did get caught up in the excitement of the upcoming state election. He watched the organized torch light parade of Democrats marching about the city on election eve carrying signs praising their candidates while ridiculing their opponents; lead by politicians and dignitaries seated in a barouche four-wheeled carriage drawn by eight horses through the city.

Whitney did a lot of hiking and horseback riding over the road that made its way over the sand hills beyond Rincon Point and ran between the Presidio and Mission Dolores, and saw recently established settlements of houses with fenced in gardens here and there.

Soon after Lemuel's arrival in the city, Whitney fell ill with dysentery and was laid low for several days, only to recover enough by September 15th to help with the wedding plans.

Reuben P. Boise arrived from Portland, Oregon on September 15th, and two days later on Wednesday evening Ellen and Reuben were married aboard the Flying Cloud by the Reverend T.D. Hunt.

Reuben and Ellen went off to the Jones Hotel at the corner of California and Sansome Street the next day for a two-day honeymoon. The large wooden structure was a favorite about town known for its "very clean" bedrooms and bedding, and for its spacious balconies on every side of the building.

For two happy days, Ellen and Reuben took carriage rides about the city sightseeing and shopping. The now married couple then left for their new home in Oregon.

Whitney by this time was having second thoughts about his plans go to the Sandwich Islands and began to look for opportunities closer by for a means to earn a living.

Whitney soon found a position with Winn's Fountain Head. This was a large concern located on Commercial Street that combined a steam candy factory along with a bakery, refreshment saloon, and catering service. Whitney's starting wages were $100 a month, plus board and lodging and he started work on September 26th.

Sarah was soon to make use of the piece of fine cloth that Lemuel had given her the week before, because soon after Ellen and Reuben departed San Francisco, Laban Coffin proposed marriage to Sarah and she accepted. Now, she made plans for her wedding. Her father, though, would not be there, for he had already left aboard the John Cogswell for the Sandwich Islands on business.

Twelve stevedores came aboard the Flying Cloud October 1st to haul her off following the completion of dockside preparations and to moor her out in the stream where wharf charges could be saved. The Flying Cloud took on 437 tons of additional stone ballast, along with 3,000 gallons of water from Sausalito, and almost the same amount of water from the schooner Maryland.

On Saturday evening October 4th at eight o'clock, Sarah Lyons and Laban Coffin were married aboard the Flying Cloud by the Reverend Albert Williams of the First Presbyterian Church. Mrs. Creesy made the wedding cake that was said to be "very good." Wine and champagne were passed around and Whitney, the only other member of the Lyon family in attendance, toasted the future success of the newlyweds.

Laban placed a plain gold ring made of gold that he had dug himself, upon Sarah's finger. Laban promised to take Sarah on a voyage around the world.

All sorts of foodstuffs came aboard from the Empire and Oriental Markets. Washing was delivered from a Chinese Laundry. Barrels of whiskey and cherry brandy mash came aboard, along with hay and maize to feed the livestock aboard the ship.

Four special boxes of gold dust arrived aboard the Flying Cloud in accordance to

instructions. That the proceeds earned by the passage around the Horn of the Flying Cloud be invested in gold dust, with half consigned to Hong Kong and the rest to be shipped directly back across the Isthmus to New York.

On October 17th, the Flying Cloud cleared port. On the 18th, Whitney came aboard to see Sarah one last time and say good-bye to her and Laban, who now served aboard the Flying Cloud as First Officer.

Captain Creesy waited until the 19th, sailing day, before distributing advanced wages to the crew to make sure that they didn't run off with the money. The Flying Cloud's departure was noted in the October 20, 1851 edition of the Alta California:

The clipper ship Flying Cloud, Captain Creesy for China, got under way yesterday about 11 A.M. and went down in fine style after firing a salute. She is truly a noble and beautiful vessel under a press of canvas.

Word of the Flying Cloud's record breaking passage to San Francisco had reached New York aboard the Prometheus thirteen days earlier and South Street went wild. Grinnell, Minturn & Co., in a letter from F.S. Hathaway to S. Griffits Morgan stated that they were:

...most pleased to learn that the Flying Cloud has made so splendid a run and that you had already collected a large portion of the freight... We hope that no serious damage has been done to the goods in the 'tween decks by water let in by the crew and that you may be able to free the ship from liability...

The editors of the New York Commercial, upon inspection of the Flying Cloud's ship's log, said that it was, "the most wonderful record that pen ever indited," and called the voyage "a national triumph (that) points clearly and unmistakably to the preeminence upon the ocean that awaits the United States of America."

Soon, the story reached London where The Illustrated London News called it a "most astonishing voyage."

The Hongs of Canton on the Pearl River

The Flying Cloud sailed for China with a new smaller crew. Sarah Lyon Coffin and J.D. Townsend, who was sailing on a voyage around the world, were the only two passengers aboard. The Flying Cloud rode the outgoing tide out past the Golden Gate, where the clipper encountered "thick and hazy weather," along with "light airs" out of the west. It was all of a week before the N.E. trade winds picked up on October 27th for a time and the voyage of the Flying Cloud to the Sandwich Islands was a slow one. Taking seventeen days before Captain Creesy "spotted Honalullu Pilot Boat" 15 miles off Diamond Head "At 6 P.M.," as the Flying Cloud sailed on past Oahu on her voyage across the Pacific.

The Flying Cloud sailed between Latitudes 19û and 21û all the way to Macao on a voyage that would take all of a month from the Sandwich Islands, and anchored in Macao Roads on December 3, 1851. Captain Creesy cleared the Flying Cloud with Portuguese port authorities and took on a pilot for the seventy-mile sail up the shallow silted Pearl River and anchored at Whampoa, twelve miles downstream from Canton.

From Whampoa, Captain Creesy wrote to S. Griffits Morgan in San Francisco, "I had forty-two days over to Macao," with "no winds to speak of for the passage." Perkins also wrote of a tragedy at sea over the course of the voyage when the Fourth Mate was "accidentally killed by being caught in the bight of a rope."

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ECS - New information has recently come to light as to the identity of the fourth mate thanks to Henning Pohlmann, a German maritime historian, in his correspondence and response to our Web site. The fourth mate was Carl Leopold Albert Maass, and presented here is the letter.

Obituary for the fourth mate of the Flying Cloud, which was published January 10th, 1852 in the "Borsen-Halle, Hamburgische Abend-Zeitung fur Handel, Schiffahrt und Politik" ("Stock Exchange-Hall, Hamburgian Evening-Newspaper for Commerce, Shipping and Politics")

Our son, Carl Leopold Albert Maass who four years ago had travelled to America, 27 years old, served as mate on board of 20th October 1851 from San Francisco to China sailing ship "The Flying Cloud" and had been on November 16th, 1851, when he during a gale with courage and resolution wanted to secure a sail, of the bight of the big top-mast-storm-sail or stay-sail-neck so badly hurt, that death within 15 minutes finished his so brisk young life. His corpse the following day with all on board ships usual ceremonies, was sunk into the floods of the Pacific Ocean. Our grief will be only mitigated by the affirmation of his master Creesy, that our son had enjoyed the general sympathy and esteem of the ship's crew.

This sad, just now reaching message, to all our and our son's friends and acquaintances.

Bornhagen near Cosslin, the 3. January 1853

The Landowner Maass with wife.

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Nine years had gone by since the signing of the Treaty of Nanking ending the Opium War. Even though the treaty stipulated that certain Chinese port cities, principally Canton, were to be opened to foreign trade, much hostility among the Chinese toward foreigners still existed and the foreigners felt compelled to reside at the foreign quarter where they had resided since the sixteenth century. Canton was still the "Forbidden City" in many ways.

At Jackson Point, on the west bank of the Pearl River, was the four acre compound of long narrow brick buildings or "factories." Where Americans could work, live and trade with their designated "Hong" merchants. The life along the Pearl River was still much like it was in earlier days.

In those early days following the Revolutionary War, Yankee traders, accompanying their ginseng, sandalwood, and furs up the Pearl River to the Hong trading center in the chop-boats for the first time, marveled at the bewilderingly beautiful spectacle of flower-boats moored to the shore. They were intricately carved in the upper portions to resemble flowers and birds. Up and down the river, mandarin boats, flying silk pennants, glided by in stately splendor, propelled by double banks of oars. Brightly lacquered square sailed tea-deckers carrying tea from upriver plantations and distant provinces sailed past astonished Yankees. Boat people in their little sampans by the thousands darted about the river plying their humble trades. From their boats, trading families hawked their wares; fresh fruit and vegetables, rice and fish, and every day necessities; "all that was under heaven."

In the twilight, boat people moored their sampans to the muddy bottom of the banks of the river with bamboo poles. Thousands of paper lanterns, like fireflies, dotted the river in the evenings, casting over the river a soft glow under the stars. There was no other place anywhere in the world like old Canton. For Yankee traders, after having sailed half way around the world, such sights left them in awe.

After landing in the chop-boats at Jackson Point, near the walled city of Canton, goods were stored at Hong warehouses known as "great go-downs," that were guarded by one of the "Thirteen Hongs of Guangzhou," merchant groups who provided security, acting as godfathers for the foreign devils, or "Fan-Kwae."

On the west bank of the Pearl River, Americans took up residence in their long narrow brick buildings made up of several divisions or "houses" all together known as factories. There, they maintained their counting houses and living quarters. Each factory was surrounded by a small courtyard and separated from the others. Inside each factory were offices, parlors, a strong room, a kitchen, and sleeping quarters. The front house along the river had a commanding view that made the traders' restricted isolation at the factories almost tolerable.

Western merchants in those earlier days were required to hire a number of lesser agents who would take care of the provisioning and loading of ships. Linguists were hired to interpret and conduct trade in Pidgin English. Regulations covered every aspect of a merchant's life in Canton. Few liberties were granted to them by their cohong hosts, but boating excursions on the Pearl River were allowed.

To those earlier Yankee traders, the Forbidden City of Canton lay beyond the terraced hongs, free from the gaze of foreign devils and the Mandarins saw to it that the city remained that way until the conclusion of the Opium War.

A Hong Tea Garden

While no longer officially forbidden, Canton still lay beyond the reach of foreigners, but they still had the pleasures of their gardens and the river for their recreational boating excursions and the life on the river remained much the same for the Chinese as it had been for many generations. Only now, many of the passage boats going down the Pearl River sailed to Hong Kong as well as Macao.

The British had discovered a magnificent harbor on that large beautiful strategically located island of few inhabitants, just a few fishermen, and had occupied Hong Kong during the Opium War. With the signing of the Treaty of Nanking in 1842, Hong Kong was awarded to the British and proclaimed a Crown Colony.

Since then, Hong Kong had become an important center of Far East trade. The streets were laid out and a city grew up along them as buildings of substance went up to house the growing numbers of inhabitants, mainly merchants, government officials, wealthy foreigners, and army and navy officers.

As an outpost of the British Empire, the Crown Colony soon acquired many of the amenities of home to make their lives as pleasant as possible. Already, there were churches and a racecourse. The troops had their own barracks and parade grounds. A recently constructed icehouse made life more tolerable over the course of the long hot humid summer months.

Much intercourse went on between Hong Kong and Macao, the Portuguese colony across the delta forty miles away, where the climate was milder over the summers. The city had a European flair that Hong Kong residents found to be most pleasant. Between the two colonies were small islands where pirates lurked waiting for small vessels to pass by.

Up to the establishment of Hong Kong, Macao was the only place of residence where the families of foreign traders from Canton could live. Since then, frequent visitors from Hong Kong joined them, with many families spending at least part of the summers in Macao. Besides the commercial ties, there was a growing cultural and social interchange between the colonies and residents of both made frequent visits back and forth across the delta.

There was a proliferation of cultural organizations in Hong Kong, such as the Royal Asian Society Branch and the Hong Kong Club. Amateur theatrical groups flourished. Frequent parties prevailed, often with diverse themes and the merrymaking usually went on into the long hours of the nights.

One such family that made the crossing often was that of Frederick Thomas Bush, a merchant from New England who had sailed to China aboard the Probus at the age of twenty-eight in 1843. He had established his own firm in two years and soon after was appointed United States Consul at Hong Kong. Soon his wife, Elizabeth DeBlois Bush, and their two young sons, ages two and three, sailed aboard the Rainbow on the clipper's second record-setting voyage to Whampoa to join him.

On the Rainbow's previous maiden voyage to Whampoa, she had attracted much attention and many Americans at the factories in Canton made special excursions from Jackson Point down the Pearl River to Whampoa to get a look at John Willis Griffiths' magnificent clipper.

Now, the Flying Cloud was attracting the same kind of attention of American visitors from Canton as well as from Hong Kong. One of them certainly was Frederick Thomas Bush, for he booked passage for his wife and family to sail to New York aboard the Flying Cloud. The family now included their daughters Amelia, Fanny, and Sophie, ages five, four, and two. Three of their servants were to accompany them. The two boys had already returned to Boston and were attending school.

Upon the Flying Cloud's arrival at Whampoa, Laban and Sarah Coffin left the ship and the two would remain in China for a time settling in Victoria, a city on Hong Kong Island, where Laban entered into the ship chandler trade. Sarah gave birth to a daughter, Mary Ellen, the following summer.

While in China, Laban became so intrigued with the amazing feats of the Chinese jugglers he encountered there that he decided to bring a troupe back to San Francisco in the spring of 1853 for a tour of America. This move eventually turned out to be tremendously successful and a financial windfall for Laban and his family.

Over the month of December as the Flying Cloud lay anchored at Whampoa, the ballast was unloaded and a cargo of tea, silks, 100 tons of Cassin small mats, and 11,000 small storage boxes bound for New York were hauled aboard. The sight of the Flying Cloud anchored in the harbor inspired Captain Creesy to commission a Chinese artist to do two paintings of his ship, one for Mr. Morgan in San Francisco, and the other for Mrs. Creesy and himself.

Anchored nearby, was the Low's clipper ship N.B. Palmer, under the command of Captain Charles Porter Low, taking on freight at the same time, and Captain Creesy was anxious to be off as soon as possible to try and reach New York ahead of his rival. All he would get would be a three-day head start.

Creesy had hoped to be able to replace the Flying Cloud's badly sprung and crippled main mast before the voyage, but was unable to find a suitable mast at Whampoa and the Flying Cloud would have to sail in her much weakened condition.

Three months of provisions came aboard, enough to feed a crew of fifty men, four mates and the Creesys, along with the eight passengers; among them T.D. Townsend who was continuing on with his around the world voyage.

On January 5, 1852, the Flying Cloud left the anchorage at Whampoa in tow and soon passed the first bar in the Pearl River. She waited at the second bar overnight for the early morning tide of August 6th, before proceeding on down the delta and reached the open waters of the sea by noon.

Captain Creesy set the course for Sunda Strait for the westward voyage around the Cape of Good Hope to New York, that was expected by some to take 80 days. Others in Canton thought that a 70 to 75-day run to New York was possible, but Creesy knew better then to be that optimistic considering the state of his crippled main mast. If he beat the N.B. Palmer back to New York then it would be a very lucky passage indeed.

Elizabeth DeBlois Bush and her daughters, along with their servants, took up their quarters in the great cabin of the Flying Cloud and settled in for the long passage home. The presence of the three young girls aboard the Flying Cloud did much to raise the spirits of their fellow passengers and crew as the Flying Cloud sailed on down past the many reefs and islands of the South China Sea. They were bound for Sunda Strait that Creesy knew so well from his many years engaged in the East India trade while captain of the Onieda and aboard the Salem East-Indiamen of his youth.

The condition of the Flying Cloud's weakened mast became apparent when on January 10th according to the log: "when five days out carried away main topsail yard." On January 17th, Creesy "refished the Main Mast" and nine days later on January 26th had to do so again.

After the passage through the treacherous Java Sea, the Flying Cloud reached Sunda Strait, where "a severe squall twisted the main mast head and split the heel of the main topmast so badly as to render it useless."

The Flying Cloud passed through Sunda Strait sailing on past Java Head and headed due south for Christmas Island. Where on January 21st, the Flying Cloud ran into a monsoon, where Creesy was obliged to go Eastward to 110û before getting the trade winds and did not pass the meridian of Java Head, after getting the trades, until January 27, the 20th day out. The Flying Cloud then proceeded on across the Indian Ocean, where somewhere along the way they encountered an outward bound ship with whom they exchanged fresh fruits, vegetables, and chickens for newspapers.

Among the items gleaned from the newspapers was an obituary account from the December 1, 1851 edition of the Boston Daily Atlas:

Capt. Creesy of the ship Flying Cloud

It will be seen by the Telegraph news in another column that this gallant sailor is no more. Two days after sailing from San Francisco bound to China, he died and the ship proceeded in charge of the mate. He was a native of Marblehead, and was about 46 (sic) years of age. For many years he commanded the ship Onieda of New Bedford, in the China trade, and was distinguished in the uniform rapidity of his passages. In the Flying Cloud, he made the shortest passage on record to San Francisco, and eclipsed the finest and most costly merchant ship in the world. And yet, this crowning triumph of his life was attended with many disasters to his spars and sails; still he pressed on, disdaining to make a port short of his destination. In every scene of a sailors life "with skill superior glowed his daring mind" - and his dauntless soul "rose with the storm and all its dangers ahead." But now rests from his toils regardless of the triumph. Peace to his waves!

It was suspected that Captain Creesy had something to do with the placing of his death statement in a concocted report that was passed on to a Panama bound ship early on in the voyage. The statement swiftly found its way across the Isthmus and aboard the Cherokee, bound for New Orleans, where the news was telegraphed on to New York. The obituary appeared in the papers and proved to be greatly advantageous for Creesy in stopping a legal action about to be served against him by sea lawyers hired by his former first mate aboard the Flying Cloud, whom Creesy had dismissed at San Francisco for shirking his duties. Grinnell, Minturn & Co. were suspicious of the report's validity and said as much.

The Flying Cloud encountered light breezes for the rest of the passage across the Indian Ocean and as the clipper passed to the south of Madagascar and approached the Cape of Good Hope, the Flying Cloud sailed into stormy weather and heavy seas. Creesy recorded in the log entry of February 17th that he was compelled to "send down the Main Topgallant mast & yard in order to relieve the Main Mast." When the weather cleared, Creesy ordered "set all sail." On February 23rd, the Flying Cloud rounded the Cape of Good Hope and then proceeded on a slant to the northwest up the Atlantic Ocean for New York. The Flying Cloud arrived there on April 10, 1852, after a passage from Whampoa of 94 days, ten days after the arrival of the N.B. Palmer.

There were no sea lawyers there to greet Captain Creesy at the docks for the former disgruntled First Mate had long since shipped out to sea again.

Next: The Challenge sets sail from New York

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