The opportunity bestowed upon Donald McKay by Enoch Train to set up a shipyard in the Boston area was a fine one, but they would have to leave Newburyport, a place that they had called home for the past four years. McKay dissolved his pleasant partnership with Mr. Pickett. Donald and Albenia would miss Newburyport. East Boston was a strange new place, but a place where mighty ships could be built,
Donald McKay moved his family to East Boston in late 1844. He was thirty-four years old and wisely decided to build his shipyard across the harbor from Boston. East Boston had been established as a flourishing shipbuilding center in 1834. Timber-covered Grand Island on the Niagara River in New York State had been purchased by shipbuilders in 1833 and a lumber mill established. Timber was now transported down the Erie Canal to the tidewater on the Hudson River, and from there by coasting vessel to a timber yard at the East Boston dock. Soon, shipbuilders from other towns were attracted to East Boston. Up to that time, the major shipbuilding centers of New England had been Newburyport, Salem, Scituate, and Kingston in Massachusetts; along with Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and along the coast of Maine.
East Boston's time had come. The first ship built there was the 460-ton Niagara, a fitting tribute to the source of the wood and the river it came from. Built in 1834 at the yard of Brown, Bates & Delano, she was launched with a bottle of Medford rum that trickled down her bow as she slid down the skids amidst the uproar of firecrackers, guns, shouts, and music.
Next to follow were three ferryboats: the East Boston, Essex, and Maverick. In 1836, the well-known shipbuilder Samuel Hall, of Marshfield and Duxbury, moved his yards to the west-end of Maverick Street in East Boston. He would go on to build a splendid number of fast sailing packets and clipper ships there. East Boston was on its way to building a maritime identity that would soon be known around the world.
With his line of credit now established, Donald McKay purchased a tidewater tract of land that fronted on 406 Border Street where he immediately set up his yard. He erected a steam sawmill to custom-cut all his frame timber. He devised and developed a saw that could be adjusted for all angles of cut. The saw could be tilted while sawing through all desired twists and turns of the cuts needed for shaping out ship's knees and ornaments, in much less time than sawing the timbers by hand. The saw was hung in a mechanical device so that the bevel of the cut could be controlled. Thousands of man-sawing hours were eliminated and the time saved put to other tasks.
He was the first in New England to use a derrick in his yard to lift heavy timbers and beams into place, McKay made use of the latest innovations of the East River yards. No doubt, he remembered his days as an apprentice when he had carried those heavy timbers on his shoulders with other men as a labor gang up the scaffolds to their appointed place. Now, timbers were hoisted with steam power to where they were needed.
Soon, his molding loft was built and the keel of the new Train packet Washington Irving was laid. With his new saw and derrick, the work went fast. At long last there was nothing to hinder the pace of things as far as McKay was concerned. He was constantly busy from dawn to dusk.
With the McKays temporarily renting a house on Prince Street, Donald McKay bought a lot, 80 White Street, at the top of a nearby hill, with a panoramic view of his shipyard and the harbor. Here, he built the beautiful two-story house where his growing family would live for the next 30 years. They called it "Eagle Hill." Even with his new army of ships carpenters, it would take him all of a year to build this unique house and he paid the same meticulous attention to detail and workmanship that he applied to all his ships.

The Washington Irving slid down the skids first on September 15, 1845 and soon joined the growing fleet of Enoch Train's White Diamond Line. She was of 750 tons register, 151 x 33 x 21. She was a beautifully modeled strongly-built ship of the finest materials and heavily-sparred with a full poop and topgallant forecastle with a large house amidships. The Washington Irving was a third again larger than the largest vessels then engaged in the Boston-Liverpool trade, where she would remain until she was eventually sold in 1852.

Train had successfully competed with New York in the South American trade and now was slowly becoming a serious rival to the New York packet lines on the Liverpool run. Competition was also coming from Samuel Cunard's British and North American Mail Steam Packet Company who had contracted the Royal mails. American packets still carried the mail from this country at a cost of about a dollar a letter, which added up to considerable revenue for ship owners.
Meanwhile, the Joshua Bates, due to a temporary lull in Boston shipping, had sailed to Mobile, Alabama for a cargo of cotton and sailed on to Liverpool. The three earlier ships that Train had come up with had made a favorable impression upon the Liverpudlians, but the Joshua Bates filled them with enthusiasm. And brought them into agreement with cooperating in establishing Train's new White Diamond Line.
But on this side of the Atlantic, Train was held to closer scrutiny. Of his four ships "only one of which, the Joshua Bates, built by Donald McKay, could sail" was the way that one Boston newspaper, the Boston Correspondent, put it.
Enoch Train had a lot of business savvy and charisma, but his resources were stretched thin. It was said that Train needed Donald McKay more than the other way around, but by espousing the shipbuilding virtues of Donald McKay he was able to inspire enough confidence with the banks to launch a growing number of packets for his White Diamond Line.
These new McKay-Train packets were designed to meet an increasing cargo and passenger trade. Following the Washington Irving in rapid succession, came the Anglo-Saxon, Ocean Monarch, Anglo-American, and Daniel Webster; each new ship was larger than the last, as well as faster and capable of carrying larger numbers of passengers. Donald McKay would build nine ships in all for Enoch Train over a ten year period. They all carried a distinctive black "T" in their foretopsail below the close reef band, and flew the Enoch Train signal, a red field with white diamond.
Train did away with the "old ship's farm" tradition of sailing packets. Sailing times were growing shorter, the animals and fowl were no longer necessary.
The White Diamond Line quickly established Donald McKay's reputation as a builder of fine ships and soon other merchants were seeking him out to build vessels for them.
From their new home on Eagle Hill, Donald and Albenia kept in touch with their New York friends, taking a keen interest in events shaping up with the China trade clippers. Albenia's shipbuilding brothers at the New York yards let them know all about the latest innovations. Albenia also kept the books and went over ships' plans with her husband. They were glad that their old friend, John W. Griffiths, had the opportunity to test his theories with the Rainbow that was launched in February, 1845. They were already drawing up plans for their own version of a sleek China packet that they hoped someday to build. With their intuition finely tuned to such perceptions of change in the evolution of shipbuilding, Donald and Albenia felt the twinge of excitement from Eagle Hill.
One spring morning in 1846, Donald McKay walked into Enoch Train's counting room at 39 Long Wharf. Enoch Train, in the company of his shipbuilding supervisor Captain Alden Gifford, greeted McKay.
Train said "We need an exceptionally attractive-looking ship to secure the passenger service in Boston and at Liverpool, a craft not only A-1 in construction, but one which will attract cabin passengers on both sides of the Atlantic and divert the European emigrant trade to our ships. And this packet must be finished, fitted and decorated in the most modern manor. Put plenty of ornamentation upon her fore and aft; build her about one hundred tons larger than the Washington Irving. She must be fast, very fast, and able to out sail any of the New York packets."
It was a tall order to fill, but Donald McKay was up to the task and built the Anglo-Saxon. She was 162 feet, 3 inches, overall, with a breadth of beam of 35 feet, 3 inches, with a depth of hold of 21 feet. She was of 894 tons register. Profuse decoration ran throughout with gilded carved figures that bore a regal theme. An Anglo-Saxon chieftain from the Middle Ages in full campaign gear graced her bow as a figurehead. A sword at his side, he wore a body dress similar in fashion to that of a Scottish Gael. Ornamental lions and eagles ran the length of the gangway boards. Astern, carved figures of warriors together with tree branches, flags, and shields en masse greeted the eye.
Similar motifs in ornamental profusion graced her stern over the first tier of stern windows. A British lion and an American eagle guarded the shields of both countries. On the starboard side, there was an Irish Warrior on horseback carrying a spear, and on the port side, an English chief, also mounted, cased in mail carrying his sword. "Anglo-Saxon, Boston" was carved into the arch board with white lettering upon a black background.
All this extravagance was to make the Anglo-Saxon extremely attractive to lure lucrative business Train's way.
Below decks, she was very well accommodated for large numbers of steerage passengers. Her b'tween-decks were lofty and well ventilated.
For the first time, Donald McKay "salt pickled" the keelson of the Anglo-Saxon. This was to preserve the keel and extend the life of the ship. She would be coppered or sheathed in Liverpool as was the custom.
The Anglo-Saxon was launched on September 5, 1846.
Four days later, the New World was launched on September 9th. Work on this monstrous 1404-ton ship had begun alongside the Anglo-Saxon. She was said to be very sharp for a packet of such a grand size, "having been intended for a Frigate," as one account had it.
The New World was built for Captain William Skiddy and Francis Skiddy. Francis was a friend of Donald McKay's from his Newburyport days where McKay had built the John R. Skiddy for the Liverpool trade.

Before the New World's first voyage, she was sold to Messrs. Grinnell, Minturn & Co., owners of the Swallow Tail Line, and joined their large packet fleet in the New York-Liverpool trade. Moses H. Grinnell had personally purchased the New World and would do more business with Donald McKay in the coming years.
The New World would become Donald McKay's sailing ambassador to many ports of call over the coming years and would establish his reputation as a master shipbuilder.
Her launching had been anticipated for weeks and attracted large crowds from all along the coast and backcountry. Her new owners came up from New York City the day before for the event. Launchings were growing in importance as social functions along with the growing size of the ships being launched. The New World was the first three-decked merchant ship ever built in an American shipyard and was the largest sailing vessel in the United States at that time in 1846. Soon, she was to bid adieu to "terra firma."
A curious mixture of old salts and marine buffs would join the invited guests of the owners and builder, along with the workmen and their families at the pavilions erected to accommodated the crowds.
To Donald McKay and his workmen, it was a day of anxiety until the New World was launched. So much could go wrong.
Heavy chains beneath the vessel held her in place until the moment of launching and if they snapped under the heavy pressure it could lead to a disaster.
The ways were carefully greased so that she would slide down the ways at the proper speed; not too slow or fast. Too slow and there was the danger of her toppling over on her side. Too fast and she might run into some of the excursion boats filled with picnicking water-gazers. At least at a September launch, Donald McKay didn't have to worry about the tallow freezing on the ways.
In the mid-1840s it was usually the foreman of the yard that did the honors of christening the ship, or another employee of some significance. A shot fired from a cannon would trigger off the sequence of fast-moving events as the last blocks were cut away and the New World glided down the ways to the waiting sea.
"Thar, thar she goes," came the cries and huzzahs from the pavilions, as the New World slid into the harbor. Workmen on board threw out the anchor after the ship had traveled twice her length. Timing was everything.
Immediately after the launch, the crowds quickly made for the gates of the yard.
It was customary to give the workers a "blow out" at such affairs. Shipbuilders and owners were expected to supply the cheese and biscuits, etc., which the workers heartily washed down with Medford rum punch. The ship owners sipped champagne in the molding loft along with their invited guests.
Donald McKay did not approve of all this unrestrained merriment. He was concerned with the welfare of his workers' families. Many of his workmen would not show up for work the next day.
William Skiddy took command of the New World and sailed to New York, and then on to Liverpool in seventeen days where she made a very favorable first impression. The Prince Consort even honored her with a visit. The New World would have a prosperous thirty-six year career at sea in the transatlantic trade.
The Anglo-Saxon did not fare so well and her end was tragically swift. Upon her second return run from Liverpool, she was lost in a storm off Cape Sable in December, 1846 where she caught her keel on a rocky island not far off the coast of Shelburne County, Donald McKay's boyhood home. Most of her passengers and crew were rescued.
By then, many of Donald McKay's brothers and their families had joined him in East Boston. McKay had kept a promise made to his family many years ago; that when he finally had a shipyard of his own, he would send for them. Life along the Jordan River, while scenic, was still a hard place to scratch out a living. The shipbuilding boom that Shelburne would experience in the later part of the 1800s was still some years off.
After several years of working at the Brown & Bell shipyard at New York as a master shipwright, Lauchlan McKay moved to East Boston where he opened a shipyard with his younger brother, Hugh Robert. Early on, they repaired ships, and in 1846 they built the barque Odd Fellow. Soon after her launching, Hugh returned to Nova Scotia and built two vessels at the Yarmouth, Nova Scotia yards. In 1850, he returned to East Boston and worked in Donald McKay's shipyard until 1854 when he opened a yard of his own.
Two other McKay brothers, David and John, along with their wives and numerous children, moved to East Boston around this time and both worked at Donald McKay's yard. John later returned to Nova Scotia to live, the only brother to do so.
Brother Simon opened up a shipyard in Amesbury, Massachusetts on the Powwow River in 1851. There, he soon built the fast-sailing Wildfire, of 380 tons register, which made a very fine run of 14 days from Boston to Gibraltar in 1853. Shipbuilding eventually petered out along the Powwow River and Simon moved on to East Boston where he worked along with Donald at his shipyard.
The youngest brother, Nathaniel Whitworth, began his working life learning the trade of ship carpentry working sunrise to sunset in his brother's yard. Nathaniel would go on to a splendid career as a naval architect. He was a skilled mechanic, as well as a practical engineer, who built steamships and locomotives in the coming years.
Shipbuilding was a family affair with the McKays and the workmen in the yard for they all considered themselves to be one large family. Donald McKay treated his workmen well, and expected excellence from them in return. He rewarded those who came up to his standards and dealt firmly with those who failed.
Donald McKay was easy to spot in the yard. He wore a business suit as was the custom with shipyard owners, and never was he in workman's clothes. He wore a hat over his dark bushy hair and was often dusted with sawdust. Workers could feel the intensity of his presence everywhere in the yard where he overlooked every minute detail. Often, they would find him working right alongside them at various tasks on the scaffolds.
His skin was tan and leathery from his many hours outside in the sun. His black piercing eyes perceived all that went on around him as he constantly checked the progressing work on each new ship from every angle. From sunrise to sunset, six days a week, he was in the yard; spending little time in the mold loft or at his desk.
In the evenings, he paid attention to family matters and in rare moments at family gatherings he would play his violin. In the late night hours he dreamed of ships.
Next: Ann McKim - Robert Waterman

The Era of the Clipper Ships
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