THE CLIPPERS OF THE SEA.

Shannon News, 8 January 1926, Page 4

THE CLIPPERS OF THE SEA.

ONLY SIX WIND-JAMMEERS LEFT ON BRITISH REGISTER. Only six wind-jammers remain on the British register—only six of all that fair fleet of tall ships that, ,20 or 30 years ago, , daring the Horn passage sailed the China seas, ran their easting down from the Cape to Sydney Heads in 40 days, their royal-yards asiiH'eads in 40 days, their royal-yards lash(writes R. F. "W. Reeves in the Daily Mail). Six of them—and they have all been afloat more than 30 years. Monkbarns, William Mitchell, Garthpool, Garthneil, Rewa, and Kilmallie, Those names awaken memories. The Monkbarns, they tell me, is in Calla'o. When -last I saw her, 20 years ago, we signalled her a happy New Year in Horn latitudes. And I remember the Kilmallie clearing Port Natal in ballast for Newcastle (N.S.W.). . Fine ships, delicate of line, with raking masts and painfed ports, teak for their fittings, and bird's-eye panelling for their cuddies. But they were only clipper ships among a crowd of clipper ships. Now they are the last six—upon the British register. Their sister ships—where are they? The old clipper Wynnstay, from which we flew our greetings to the Monkbarns, aired her old ribs on a shoal at Iquequo until the sea broke her up; but others were not so fortunate. Steam niched their livelihood from them, and unsentimental owners sold them at knackers' prices to the Scandinavians and the Italians.

It is .'sheer tragedy for a sailorman to think of those old clipper ships afloat under an alien dominance. We loved them. We coaxed the ultimate knot of their speed out of them before we took in. a mizzen-royal. 'We scraped and oiled the bright work and polished the brass-work as religious rites. Some time ago in a foreign port I saAv a British clipper ship that had fallen on evil days. An alien flag hung, at the peak. She was going to her mooring but no voice was raised in a merry chanty as the hands tramped round the capstan. Her sails were bundled on to the yards, her decks filthy, her paintwork patched and peeling. Her brass fittings were covered with black paint. Even her yards were not trimmed. That squalor could' not hide her aristocracy. Her pride shone through, her shoddy dress. Nothing could disguise* the grace of her, the sweep of her sheer, the. tapering beauty of her spars. But to a sailor it was as" though a captive queen were being hounded through mean streets in rags. Most of her old clippers have been left to that fat'e. Of all the proud fleet only six are left. Dip to the six! ,