The extreme clipper ship Young America, perhaps the finest sailing ship ever built, was for more than a quarter of a century the pride of the American mercantile marine. Her arrival in port was sure to attract a crowd to the city water front to gaze on her beautiful proportions and discuss her wonderful performances. Many expressed a sentimental regret that she ever passed from American hands, and when she was sold felt the full force of Holmes’ lines on “Old Ironsides”:
“Oh, better that her shattered hulk
Should sink beneath the wave.”
It might be said that her name was not only a household word in all maritime cities, but also throughout the length and breadth of the nation.
The foregoing effusion was written by the late F. C. Matthews, marine historian, in the Pacific Marine Review some 14 years ago. He knew the Young America at first hand, having had the privilege of seeing her in San Francisco from time to time. He told the writer of this article that on one occasion he asked the second mate if he thought it would be possible for him to sign on as a seaman. The officer advised against it. There was probably considerable significance in that reply, as life before the mast in American ships in the 1870’s was no bed of roses.
Captain Arthur H. Clark, author of the Clipper Ship Era, spoke of the Young America in glowing terms to the writer some 20 years ago, and Carl C. Cutler in his sterling work, Greyhounds of the Sea, writes of her as one of the most noted, as well as one of the most beautiful of the belles of “53.” That year marked the zenith of the building of clipper ships in the United States, 48 clippers being added to the California fleet. The wild excitement of building, owning, and racing those splendid ships was then at its height. A great deal of other shipbuilding was going on in the United States at the same time, of course, but in the clipper was reached the highest development of the wooden sailing ship, in construction, speed, and beauty.
The Young America illustrates how transitory and evanescent fame can be. She was a ship renowned for a quarter of a century, rounded Cape Horn over 50 times, was always a favorite with shippers, commanding the highest freight rates so that she was a veritable mint to her owners; yet how many people of the present day have heard any mention of her? The Flying Cloud has received wide publicity, and deservedly so, the Sovereign of the Seas, Red Jacket, Cutty Sark, Thermopylae, and many other famous names are emblazoned on the pages of maritime history; but little is heard of the ship that outlived nearly all her noted sisters.
How fortunate that some enterprising photographer took several photographs of this ship, and thereby passed on to posterity the indisputable evidence of how the Young America really looked. Pictures and prints of that period rarely did justice to the vessels they were supposed to represent, and usually failed to show the individual characteristics possessed by each craft. Only a few of the real clippers were photographed; I can think, offhand, of perhaps a dozen that I have seen, and none of these photos showed the various ships in their original rigs, but after their spars had been cut down and single topsails changed to double topsails. The Young America's rig was changed in less than a year after her launching.
The photos of the Young America are as she appeared after her original towering masts had been reduced somewhat, and her wings clipped. Her mainyard was originally 104 feet in length, and her spanker boom 86 feet long.
A complement of 75 men went on her first voyage, 60 of them were before the mast, none too many for the arduous and ofttimes dangerous tasks aboard a big ship that was being hard driven in all kinds of weather. It is safe to say that half the number of hands made up her crew after her rig had been cut down.
The Young America was the last clipper ship built by William H. Webb at his yard on the East River, New York, between 5th and 7th Streets. She was Mr. Webb’s favorite of all the splendid ships constructed by him, and his masterpiece. Built of the best materials and strengthened throughout her hull with iron braces, this vessel stood 30 years of the hardest kind of service. She was very fast and made a number of sailing records, some unbroken to the present day. It is unfortunate that the Young America never raced any of the crack fliers such as the Flying Cloud, Sovereign of the Seas, etc. Her builder offered to wager $20,000 that °n her maiden voyage she would beat the Sovereign of the Seas in a race to San Francisco, but the latter went to England and Australia, to the regret of all those interested.
The Cape Horn route did not offer the same opportunities for great daily runs over protracted periods such as occurred m the South Atlantic and Indian Oceans on Australian passages, yet the Young America had some notable runs to her credit. In 1872, on a passage from Liverpool to San Francisco, she covered, 2,747 miles in 11 days, while on another voyage she made 1,802 miles in one week, and on another, 1,780 miles in 7 days.
When her long and active life is considered, the Young America kept singularly free from accidents, particularly those incident to the passage around Cape Horn. On only two occasions did she receive damage in that region of heavy weather, the most serious being the breaking of her jibboom into three pieces while diving into a head sea.
On December 3, 1868, while off the River Plate, 41 days out from New York, bound to San Francisco with a full cargo of railroad iron, she was taken aback by a pampero and thrown on her beam-ends. It was feared that her cargo might shift, but it proved to have been carefully stowed. She lost a lot of her top hamper, but a jury rig being effected at sea in 10 days, the ship was on her way again. Had the Young America put into Rio to refit, it would have meant delay and tremendous expense. Captain Cumming was presented by the underwriters with a purse of $1,000 in gold for bringing his ship into San Francisco under jury rig, and only 117 days out from New York.
On her last voyage as an American ship she left New York, September 7, 1882, and arrived at Portland, Oregon, February 5, 1883, a long passage. She was partly loaded with wheat at Portland, and finished loading at San Francisco. She left that port for the last time on June 2 and put into Rio, leaking, when about 62 days out. Repairs took about 3 weeks, and she arrived at New York on October 6, 100 sailing days from San Francisco. She was sold then for $13,500 and went under the Austrian flag, hailing port Buccari, under the name Miroslav. She sailed from Delaware Breakwater, February 17, 1886, and was never thereafter heard from.