Flying Cloud

The Flying Cloud left New York on her 5th California Cape Horn voyage in mid-February, 1855, and had a 108-day passage to San Francisco arriving there on June 6, 1855.

From there, the Flying Cloud sailed on across the Pacific to China passing Honolulu 11 days out on June 22nd and arrived August 1st at Hong Kong after a passage of 39 days.

The Flying Cloud sailed from Macao on September 7th down the South China Sea and proceeded on past Java Heads across the Indian Ocean. The Flying Cloud was off the coast of Madagascar one day when Eleanor Creesy from her cabin window saw a man fall overboard who was swept astern.

She rushed on deck, threw a life buoy over the rail and gave the alarm. The Flying Cloud was hove to and a boat lowered and sailors rowed out to search for the man. They returned without him. Captain Creesy then sent out two boats and told his men to keep searching until nightfall. After a long search, the man was picked up four hours later just as he was about to succumb to his fate. Upon the boat's return to the ship with the almost drowned sailor, Mrs. Creesy had him brought down to her cabin where she nursed him back to health.

The Flying Cloud arrived back a New York on December 14, 1855, after a run of 97 days from Macao and 72 days from Anjer. Perkins and Ellen retired to their home at Marblehead for a long deserved rest.

Flying Cloud

The command of the Flying Cloud passed over to Captain Reynard and the clipper was pronounced to be strong and fit for her sixth Cape Horn voyage that got under way on March 13, 1856. Captain Reynard took the Flying Cloud flying on down the Atlantic, but soon it was discovered that her bowsprit was badly sprung and the ship was not deemed to be shipshape in several other areas as well. Still, the Flying Cloud made it to the line in 19 days and passed Rio 31 days out.

Off the coast of Argentina past latitude 37°, the Flying Cloud ran into heavy gales and high seas which took a heavy toll on the Cloud's hull, spars, and rigging. On April 29th, Captain Reynard was forced to turn around and set a course for Rio, arriving there on May 10th. Six weeks of repairs followed and her spars were cut down.

The Flying Cloud continued on with her voyage on June 23rd and reached the Horn 24 days later, where she encountered a week of stormy weather that forced Captain Reynard to rig an additional rudder to the clipper in order to steer her properly. The Flying Cloud arrived at San Francisco on September 14, 1856, 82 days from Rio with a passage of 113 sailing days from New York. Captain Reynard was credited with having made a best day's 24-hour run of 402 miles.

By the time of the Flying Cloud's arrival, a great commercial trade depression had set in and the Flying Cloud was laid up in San Francisco until January 1857. Captain Reynard left the ship and Captain Creesy was sent out across the Isthmus to California to take command of the Flying Cloud again.

He arrived at San Francisco with Mrs. Creesy from Panama aboard the steamship Sonora to bring the Flying Cloud back home around the Horn to New York, which he did with a passage of 91 days arriving back at the East River in early April.

The commercial depression got worse and continued on for some time and for the next two years, eight months, the Flying Cloud was forced to remain idle at Grinnell, Minturn & Co.'s East River pier.

In early November 1859, the Flying Cloud was at last taken out and towed up the East River to the sectional dock. Her spars were cut down again and her canvas reduced, and other repairs made to this venerable old clipper that had made six Cape Horn voyages over the past eight and a half years and she had certainly seen better days.

*****

While departing in tow this time on her seventh voyage, the Flying Cloud passed by the medium clipper Andrew Jackson loading cargo for her fifth run to San Francisco. She was berthed at the pier opposite her owners' house at 45 South Street with a banner flying from her foremast proclaiming that the ship was "up for California."

John H. Brower & Co. owned the Andrew Jackson, which was launched from the Mystic, Connecticut shipyard of Irons & Grinnell in March 1855. Her original name was Belle Hoxie, which was changed as soon as her new owners bought her that April.

The Andrew Jackson was 220 x 41:2 x 22:3 feet, 1679 tons old measurement and was a strong, heavily-sparred, well-built ship with a figurehead of her namesake juxtaposed at her bow. Her four swift previous passages compared favorably with those clippers of the extreme variety and she always delivered her cargoes in excellent condition.

In command of the Andrew Jackson was "Cap'n Jack" Williams who was known as a hard driver. On her fifth passage to San Francisco, the Andrew Jackson hoisted her anchor at 6 a.m. on Christmas Day, December 25, 1859, and was towed down the East River with the tide, and discharged her pilot at noon off Sandy Hook.

Ever since his first run around the Horn in command of the Andrew Jackson in 1855, Cap'n Jack had raced against the phantom of the Flying Cloud. The Andrew Jackson's maiden run was the slowest with a passage 128 days. But the succeeding three voyages of 105, 101, and 103 days had given him hope that he might someday take the laurels from the Flying Cloud.

This was utmost on his mind as he piled on sail off Sandy Hook and roared on down the Atlantic to the line crossing the equator in "20 days & Twelve houers" on January 14, 1860. Cap'n Jack was a much better sailor than he was a speller, as his log will attest. The Flying Cloud had made it to the line on her record run in 17 days.

On the way to 50° S. , Cap'n Jack observed "a Large Curkel Round the Sun," as well as "A Mackrel Sky and Mears Teiles & Read in the Morning." The Andrew Jackson crossed Lat. 50° S. in "43 and a Hafft Days," as opposed to the Flying Cloud's 42 days.

The Andrew Jackson sailed around the Horn and then ran into heavy squalls and high seas. Still, she crossed Lat. 50° S. in the Pacific 12 hours ahead of the Flying Cloud in "53 and Hafft Days," adding "The Barometer is going up nicely and I am in hope to havey a good run yeat."

Seventy-three days out, the Andrew Jackson crossed the equator in the Pacific one day ahead of the Flying Cloud. As Cap'n Jack wrote in his log "Shortest but 3 on Record." In his log there was as of yet no mention of his phantom adversary, the Flying Cloud until the 83rd day when he wrote down "I am in hopes yeat to Do as well as the Flying Cloud's time."

On the 86th day he encountered "Baffling and Puffy" winds adding, "I am in hopes the wind will come to the west Soone." His hopes were answered two days later as squally winds filled his sails and moved him right along encouraging him to write in his log on March 22nd "We are good for the Flying Cloud Yeat."

The next day at 4 p.m. in the afternoon Cap'n Jack logged "made the Farallons , 89 DAYS AND 4 HOUERS FROM NEW YORK."

Captain Jack Williams was of the opinion that he had snatched the laurels from the Flying Cloud, but he was not able to get a pilot until the following morning and his port-to-port time was longer than the Flying Cloud's.

San Franciscans certainly thought that the Andrew Jackson had broken the record. They gave Captain Williams an ovation and offered to parade him about the city in a carriage. But out of modesty the captain declined the offer content in the knowledge that he thought that his name would go down in the record book with the fastest Cape Horn passage from New York to San Francisco.

This voyage has been subject to many debates throughout the maritime world that continues to this day. But by far the best account summing up the contest between the Andrew Jackson and the Flying Cloud as to which clipper could claim the record passage from New York to San Francisco is presented here taken from Howe & Matthews American Clipper Ships:

The Jackson broke no records, either on a whole passage or over any of its sections. It has frequently been published that her run from New York t San Francisco, in 1859/60, was 89 days, 7 hours (also given in some instances, 89 days, 4 hours) which would be eclipsing the Flying Cloud's two fastest runs, but these statements are proven to be mythical. On the passage in question, the Jackson hove up her anchor at 6 a.m., Dec. 25th, and passed Fort Lafayette at 8.45; discharging her pilot at noon. She received her San Francisco pilot at 8 A.M., Mar. 24, 1860, and anchored in San Francisco Bay at 6 P.M. Thus her passage is 90 days, 12 hours, anchor to anchor; 89 days, 20 hours, pilot to pilot; which is the third fastest of record to this date. Distance sailed, 13,700 miles as against 15,091 miles covered by the Flying Cloud on the record run of 89 days 8 hours, anchor to anchor.

After a referral to another passage the writer continues:

It appears that the fast passages of the Jackson were due to hard driving and also to a succession of winds favorable to her running near to a direct course, rather than to her ability to move through the water rapidly and there is no record of any great day's run to her credit.

Further discussion concerning this contest can be found in Carl C. Cutler's Greyhounds of the Sea. The passage is presented here and the readers are left to make up their own minds about this matter. I accept the conclusions of Carl C. Cutler along with the conclusions of Octavius T. Howe and Frederick C. Matthews, the authors of American Clipper Ships.

The Andrew Jackson certainly had the luck of the winds in her favor over the course of this voyage, which contributed greatly to her swift passage. Matthew Fontaine Maury often stated that he thought that an 85-day passage from New York to San Francisco was possible if a clipper ship found ideally favorable winds all along the route especially at Cape Horn.

The record passage of the Flying Cloud was 1,391 miles longer then that of her rival's passage. As Captain Creesy was prone to stray about the oceans of the world in search of fresh winds and did not always heed the advice of his wife or Maury's Sailing Directions and Wind and Current Charts when charting his course.

Carl C. Cutler in his Greyhounds of the Sea writes of the matter:

Passing for the moment the general comments regarding the sailing ability and records of the Andrew Jackson, it may be said that the foregoing, so far as it goes, appears to be a correct summary of her performance on the voyage in question. A contemporary newspaper account states that Captain Williams was reported passing Sandy Hook at noon, Christmas Day, 1859. This is by no means conclusive evidence as to the exact hour of his departure, for newspapers have no special interest in precision in such matters. Nevertheless it is altogether probable that he made sail, if not at noon, at least during the early part of the afternoon, at which time his "sea day," December 26th, began. The distinction between sea and civil time is of some importance to bear in mind in this connection.

There is, furthermore, no doubt but that the Jackson took a pilot off San Francisco Heads not later than 8 a.m., March 24th, civil time. This would make the longest possible calculation of her passage from Sandy Hook to pilot, 89 days and 20 hours, assuming she crossed the bar at New York at noon, exactly-a point which has never been disputed. Thus far there appears to have been no material discrepancy in the published accounts of the voyage.

The essence of Captain William' claim, however, was that he arrived on the pilot grounds off the San Francisco Heads, where he was becalmed, 89 days and 4 hours after taking his departure from Sandy Hook, and that no pilot was available until the following morning. If this claim is substantiated it is obvious that the Andrew Jackson will be in the position of having made the best passage at sea under sail from New York to the San Francisco pilot grounds, while the Flying Cloud's sea passages would be somewhat longer and her claim to the record would rest on the fact that her time consumed in working in and out of the harbor was shorter than that of the Jackson. Save that the point is one of interest to all lovers of the old ships, there can be no object in discussing it at this late day. Of those primarily involved, mariners and owners alike have long since passed to the reward. It remains only to add whatever fragments may be gathered to the meager store of information heretofore available, to the end that the measure of honor due the clippers and the men who sailed them may be increased rather than diminished.

Passing for the moment such positive evidence as may be available, there are several collateral matters which seem worthy of mention. The imponderables have a certain relevancy even when seemingly conclusive facts are adducible.

There is then the negative fact that the claim appears to have been undisputed for more than a generation, and indeed as we shall see, was assumed by Grinnell & Minturn, owners of the Flying Cloud, to have been proved as recently as 1892.

There is the further circumstance that whether the ship deserved the honor or not, it was awarded her apparently without a dissenting voice by the merchants' associations of San Francisco. Not only did they present the commander of the Andrew Jackson with a commodore's pennant for the shortest voyage from New York to the Golden Gate, but they attempted to parade him around the city in a victoria with the object of banqueting him afterwards; honors, which, on the authority of the Captain's sister, as stated to the writer, he was too modest to accept.

It can hardly be assumed that the merchants' committee acted without evidence in the matter. From comments in the various papers it is clear that the Jackson's log was available for examination, and that the people of San Francisco were satisfied that a record passage had been made. In some respects their sources of information were superior to those of the present generation. They knew as much about the time the Jackson sailed from New York as can be ascertained now, and they undoubtedly could have obtained detailed information about the arrival of the ship off the Heads. It is well to remember that the San Francisco committee were concerned with the matter that happened less than 24 hours earlier, and the men were walking the streets who could have challenged the award, and who might well have been interested in doing so if they felt the Jackson's claims were false.

On the Jackson's return to New York much was said of her exploit in the papers, including an account of the presentation of a chronometer watch by John Brower to Captain Williams with the time of her run, 89 days, 4 hours engraved on it. Even here no doubting voice was raised, although the friends of Captain Creesy and the Flying Cloud were as warm blooded as they were numerous. Many years later in reply to a question from the Hon. Thomas L. James, of Providence, R. I., Messrs. Grinnell, Minturn & Company wrote:

"The passage of the Flying Cloud from New York to San Francisco in 1851 was made in about ninety days, eighty-nine days and eighteen hours exactly, we believe. The passage of the Andrew Jackson in 1860, we understand, was somewhat faster that of the Flying Cloud, but we cannot give particulars at the moment."

(From a manuscript copy of a letter given by Mr. James to Mr. Charles Stark of Providence, R. I., in 1892) ( * ECS - This author finds the fact that no mention of the 1854 passage of the Flying Cloud by Mr. James is somewhat bewildering. DGR )

Carl C. Cutler in his Greyhounds of the Sea continues:

It cannot be said that circumstances of this sort, in themselves, constitute proof that the run was made as claimed, but if the credibility of Captain Williams and his officers is involved, they possibly have a moral value.

There is danger in speaking too dogmatically on the matter, but it would seem to have been remarkably easy at the time to have pieced together the facts invalidating Captain Williams' claim if it had been false. If the passage was not made as stated it is obvious not only that the Captain was an untrustworthy character, but that the people of the time, including many admirers of the Flying Cloud, must have been strangely credulous. Furthermore it involves the assumption that if Captain Jack was bluffing he was willing to assume the very real and imminent risk of making himself the laughing stock of the world. All these things are possible, but whether they are probable is a matter the reader is competent to decide for himself.

After he retired from the sea Captain Williams lived at Mystic, Connecticut, until his death in 1905, where a great many of his friends and business associates still live. Of the people now living some liked and others disliked him. The Captain was an outspoken man and made enemies, but friends or enemies, all are agreed that he was not a man to tamper with the truth. It has been stated emphatically to the writer by a number of acquaintances that, whatever his faults, "Cap'n Jack was never a man to claim anything which did not belong to him." There is no doubt but that to the day of his death he asserted and firmly believed he had made the run from the New York pilot grounds to those off San Francisco in the time above stated.

Fortunately for the historian, the record no longer need depend on newspaper reports and circumstantial evidence. After a lapse of seventy years the original log of the Andrew Jackson, in the crabbed hand and simplified spelling of Cap'n Jack, has come to light. It is reprinted in full in the appendix, and since the hour of arrival at the San Francisco pilot grounds is the mooted point, the last page of the log with the master's "89 Days and 4 Houers from New York" is here reproduced in facsimile.

The log tells a significant story. Briefly, at noon the 23rd day of March, 1860, and precisely 89 days and 3 hours from the time of taking his departure off New York (i.e., after dropping his pilot), or 89 days and 4 hours after passing Sandy Hook, Captain Williams was on the San Francisco pilot grounds ready to receive a pilot if one had been available. The wind was falling, however, and there was no pilot to be had. Accordingly the Jackson remained all night between the Farallones and the bar and did not secure a pilot until seven o'clock the following morning.

This, it is submitted, is a summary of the evidence at the present available. It is unlikely that anything of importance will be added to the record in the future, although old letters and manuscripts may yet appear to affect the situation. The reader may, therefore, draw his own conclusions from the foregoing, with the consciousness at least that his data is more complete than any hitherto available.

Whatever decision one may reach, the situation is unchanged in one important particular. The Flying Cloud undoubtedly still holds the record for the shortest passage from anchor to anchor. Since, however, the performance of a ship behind a tug or working in or out of port under command of a pilot is not the true criterion of her sailing ability, it would seem the better test is her run from pilot to pilot. If this measure is accepted it may be regarded as probable that the record for the passage under sail belongs to the Andrew Jackson.

Be that as it may, the honors are virtually even between the two ships. The difference of a few hours in a 15,000 mile voyage is in itself a slight matter, however important it may be in determining a record. Both were noble, good craft, and both were commanded by men who are entitled to be numbered among the first dozen of the hardest driving sailor men the world has produced.

The Flying Cloud was eventually sold to a British firm who sent her sailing off to London on December 8, 1859, with Captain Windsor in command, and she made the New York to London passage with shortened spars in 17 days.

Her new owners then sent the Flying Cloud to Hong Kong and she made the run in 97 days. After loading tea at Foochow, the Flying Cloud left the Min River on August 6, 1860, and made the run back to her new home on the Thames River in 123 days.

The Flying Cloud was then put on the Melbourne run and after taking on her cargo and passengers, left on February 28, 1861, and arrived at Melbourne 85 days later.

Departing Melbourne, the Flying Cloud crossed to Hong Kong in 67 days, where the ship was offered up for sale. No sale was made, but soon the ship was chartered by the British Government to transport troops home.

On December 29, 1861, the Flying Cloud sailed from Hong Kong and made a swift 9-day run to Anjier before the monsoon. After rounding the Cape of Good Hope, the Flying Cloud put into St. Helena for a week before sailing on to the Thames River, arriving there on April 20th, 1862, 112 days out from Hong Kong.

The Flying Cloud was still up for sale and this time Mackay & Co. bought her and she joined the Black Ball Line. She soon began transporting emigrants and cargo to Queensland, Australia, along with British clippers Young Australia, Royal Dane and Sunda over that run, and stayed in that trade for a number of years carrying as many as 515 passengers, averaging 93 days on both the outwards and homewards passages.

On one outward passage in 1866, an epidemic of measles broke out where unfortunately five children and one adult died.

In 1870, the Flying Cloud made a run from Liverpool to Hervey's Bay with 375 emigrants aboard in 87 days, very fast time for a 19-year-old, strained, water-soaked soft wood clipper like the Flying Cloud that had seen better days. The Flying Cloud still proved to be a very fast ship in Australian waters, where on another occasion she averaged almost 16 knots during one four day run along the Australian coast even though the Sunda had beaten the Flying Cloud by 18 miles in that contest.

The ownership of the Flying Cloud over those years was complicated, particularly around the time of the financial collapse of 1866 as shares were mortgaged and traded around. She continued in the Australian trade and James Baines ended up acquiring thirty-two shares for a time.

After a decade of loyal service to the Black Ball Line, James Baines suspended payment on a loan and the ownership of the Flying Cloud, in April 19, 1871, was taken over by Arthur Forwood. He soon sold her to Harry Smith Edwards of South Shields who entered her into the North Atlantic timber trade, where she joined the many wooden ships that ended out their careers in this way.

Over her last years, the Flying Cloud hauled lumber principally between St. Johns and London.

In 1874, the Flying Cloud left St. Johns and shortly after encountered a heavy gale and was returning to port when she ran ashore on Beacon Island Bar. Her cargo was lightered and the ship bumped around there for some time, and after much toil the Flying Cloud was eventually re-floated with a broken back and towed to St. Johns for repairs.

While on the slip, a fire broke out aboard the Flying Cloud. The flames were soon put out, but by that time the damage was deemed to be so great that it was decided to set her on fire again and then break up the ship to salvage her copper and metal fastenings. This occurred in June, 1875. The name of her last captain is lost, but he was known locally around St. Johns as "Wild Goose."

The Saint John, New Brunswick Daily News Friday, June 18, 1874 edition carried the following account:

During the heavy blow of Wednesday night, the clipper ship Flying Cloud, lying in the stream off Adam's moorings, Carleton, dragged her anchors, and swinging round, her stern was caught in a mud bank at Sand Point. In the morning - having careened with the tide in the night - she was discovered on her beam ends, her stern in three or four feet of water, her bow in twenty-five. She was deal-laden, and while in the above position a portion of her cargo, belonging to Alex. Gibson, Esq., floated away. At noon the remaining portion of the cargo was being discharged, and a few hours later a tug went to her assistance and she was towed off. At present the amount of damage sustained by the vessel cannot be stated. She was certainly in a dangerous position for a long time.

The Flying Cloud was built by McKay at Boston in 1851, and is consequently 23 years old. She is a vessel of 1098 tons, and is owned by W. S. Edwards, South Shields, England.

After an illustrious twenty-three years of service, the most famous clipper ship in all the world, the Flying Cloud, had ironically ended out her final days in the Bay of Fundy not far from the Jordan Falls, Nova Scotia birthplace of her builder, Donald McKay.

* * * * *

Captain Josiah Creesy remained in retirement at his home in Marblehead until the outbreak of the Civil War. When he volunteered to serve the Union cause and received a commission as a lieutenant in the United States Navy and was placed in command of the clipper ship Ino.

The Ino was a small extreme clipper launched at the Williamsburg, New York shipyard of Perrine, Patterson, and Stack on January 4, 1851. She was 160: 6 x 34: 11 x 17: 5, Tonnage, 895, old measurement; 673, new measurement, and was a heavily-sparred handsome clipper with a rakish rig that had proved to be a fast sailer over the preceding decade.

She had made three voyages around the Horn to San Francisco circumnavigating the world three times and then had entered into trade as an East Indiaman. At the outbreak of the Civil War, the Ino was purchased by agents of the United States Government for $40,000. She was armed with eight 32 pounders and was rated as a ship-of-war, 4th class, manned with a crew of 144 men.

Lieutenant Josiah P. Creesy took command of her and took her out from Boston on her first cruise on September 23, 1861, down the Atlantic to the equator, and returned to Boston, arriving on January 10, 1862.

In Creesy's report to the Secretary of the Navy, Creesy wrote:

The ship fully justifies all expectations in regard to the service required; she carries her batteries well, in no way affecting her strength or fastenings. Cruised in the vicinity of the equator a long time; latterly she has been very tender on account of the consumption of stores and water.

The Ino left Boston of her second cruise on January 29, 1862, and sailed to Cadiz, Spain, with a very fast run of 12 days to search for the Confederate raider Sumter, and encountered heavy weather along the way, took a battering, and lost a boat. Creesy put into Palermo, Spain to make repairs.

The Ino sailed the Mediterranean in search of the Sumter for a time before Creesy put the clipper into Tangier. While in port, Creesy found two Confederate sailors and promptly arrested them.

Upon hearing of the incident, Commander Craven of the Tuscarora ordered Creesy to release the prisoners. But the feisty Creesy had a stubborn streak that rebelled against the naval chain of command and refused saying, "I positively decline to give these men up," and away he sailed with the two Confederate sailors in the brig. With this action of defiance, Creesy came under the wrath of Commander Craven who filed charges against him for "contemptuous disregard" of orders, and Creesy soon received his discharge papers from the Navy.

The Ino returned to service under different commanders over the course of the Civil War to cruise in search of Confederate raiders, most notably the Alabama and the Florida, disguised as a merchantman.

On other cruises, she guarded fishermen and whalers, escorted merchantmen, and served as a convoy. She also served as a cruiser to the blockading squadrons of southern ports. After four years of meritorious service, the Civil War ended and the Ino was sold by the Government to Boston merchant Samuel G. Reed & Co., and renamed Shooting Star, and had a long second career as a merchantman.

The Archer

Captain Creesy went on to take command of the Archer, ironically the clipper that eight years earlier he had raced against around the Horn in 1854, and beaten on his fourth record-setting voyage around the Horn in command of the Flying Cloud.

Creesy made two voyages to China in command of the Archer and then finally retired to his home in Marblehead, where he died in 1871 at the age of 57 after a long illustrious life at sea. Where he twice came away with the laurels for the Cape Horn run to San Francisco.

This 89-days, 8-hours sailing record stood for over 130 years and has only been broken four times since then. The first to do so was Thursday's Child in 1986. The French racer Isabelle Autissie shattered this ocean racing record with a 13,945 mile passage in 62 days, 5 hours in April 1994 and is the current record holder for the Cape Horn run.

Next: The Panama Railroad

The Era of the Clipper Ships
Bibliography / Sea Witch / Directory / Maritime Links
Home / McKay Clan / Ship's Store / Introduction / Tradewinds