# The History of Yachting/Chapter 6

CHAPTER VI
WILLIAM AND MARY
Landing of King William at Torbay—The yacht Princess Mary—Her remarkable longevity—The William and Mary—The Medina—Jacobite plots—Caermarthen's yacht—Peter the Great, in Holland and England—The Little Grandsire—Generous action of Louis XIV.
KING CHARLES was succeeded by his brother, the Duke of York, who became King James II. of England. He reigned but four years, abdicating December 11, 1688. No record has been found that any yachts were built during these years. But with the accession of the Prince of Orange,—King of William III. of England—was introduced one of the most remarkable yachts of that period,—the Princess Mary.
The Princess Mary.
A portrait is here given of this yacht, lying off Delft Haven. On her high stern may be seen the arms of the Prince of Orange, and on her flag-staff the standard she carried when William of Orange came from Holland to become the King of England, bearing the motto: "The Protestant Relig: and the Liberty of England"; also the motto of the house of Nassau: "Je Maintiendray."
The admirals of the seventy ships that composed the fleet that escorted William to Torbay, where he landed November 5, 1688, carried a red flag with the first of these mottoes inscribed upon it.
In February, 1689, a number of yachts,—the Princess Mary among them,—were sent to Holland with a fleet under command of Lord Admiral Herbert to escort Queen Mary to England. An illustration of her landing at the Isle of Thanet, February 22, 1689, is here given, showing three of the royal yachts in the foreground saluting, the smoke from the guns somewhat obscuring their hulls.
This distinction should have been enough for any yacht; and the Princess Mary, about twelve years old,—although some writers state her age to have been, then, more than half a century,—might well have retired with honor. But her career was not ended; in reality it had only begun.
One warm afternoon late in the spring of 1856, the rays of the declining sun flooded the old Admiralty Court at Westminster and embellished the ​little desks and tables,—covered with worn and faded green baize,—the uncommonly hard wooden benches, with conscientious upright backs, and the witness box of the size of a Dundee whaler's crow's nest, and of about as much comfort, which comprised the principal furniture of the old Admiralty Court. Some of us still remember the old place with affection; for within those homely walls were recorded, under oath and cross-examination, stories of the sea so vivid and picturesque, that, in dramatic effect and exciting interest, the inventive genius of the novelist has never excelled, and rarely equalled them.
A case was being tried there before Justice Stephen Lushington, D.C.L., one of the most celebrated among the many renowned jurists of Great Britain. Counsel was arguing concerning the alleged age of the vessel to which his brief referred, and was pursuing the even tenor of his discourse,—as counsel sometimes do when no jury is present,—when the judge remarked, from the bench, that about forty years before (1816) he was counsel in a case relating to the vessel that had brought over William of Orange to England.
Landing of Queen Mary in England. 1689.
It must be stated, however, that the remark of the learned Justice Lushington was not strictly accurate; for the vessel that "brought over" the future King of England from Holland, was the ship Briel, although William left the shores of Holland on board the Princess Mary and later boarded the Briel and landed from the Princess Mary in England.
After disembarking the future King, the Princess Mary enjoyed many years of dignified and honorable employment. She was used as a royal yacht during the reigns of William III. and Queen Anne: and upon the death of the Queen she came into possession of his Majesty, King George I. But in 1714, by his order, she ceased to form a part of the royal establishment; and about the middle of the eighteenth century, during an outburst of economy, she was sold by the Government, to Messrs. Walters & Co., of London, who changed her name to the Betsy Cairns, in honor of a West Indian lady of that name. She was then variously employed: as a West Indiaman, privateer, and Smyrna figger. For about fifty years she was employed in this kind of work, until in 1810 she enjoyed a glimpse of her former glory by being chartered into the royal service for a few months, and becoming a transport under King George III., being present at the siege of Cadiz, and becoming also the headquarters of the Royal Marine Artillery. ​She next became the property of Messrs. Carlins & Co., of London, and was converted into a collier, transporting coals between Newcastle, London, and the Continent. In all these employments she did her work well, and bore the reputation of being "a lucky ship and a fast sailer."
It was this period of her career that inspired the brilliant and witty Dr. Sheldon McKenzie to write, in later years, these impromptu lines in an album:
"Behold the fate of sublunary things: She exports coal which once imported Kings."
In 1825 she was purchased by Mr. George Finch Wilson, of South Shields; but by this time her figure-head was gone and she had become a full-rigged brig. On February 27, 1827, while bound from Shields to Hamburg with her usual cargo of coals, she struck, in a heavy gale, upon the Black Middens,—a dangerous reef of rocks at the mouth of the Tyne,—and in a few days went to pieces.
At this time she must have been well-known throughout Great Britain; for the news of her disaster brought to the wreckers of Shields applications for pieces of her remains from all over the country. The Orange Lodges were especially importunate.
Souvenirs of various kinds, such as snuff-boxes, paper-knives, and ink-stands were made from her oak planking and timbers,—age and exposure having made them as hard and black as ebony. Each member of the corporation of Newcastle was presented with a snuff-box, beautifully ornamented; ​while two carved figures, part of her original knightheads, are now in the possession of the Brethren of the Trinity-house, Newcastle. A beam with carved and gilded mouldings, which formed part of her principal cabin, became the property of Mr. Rippon Waterville, North Shields.
At the time of her wreck the Betsy Cairns was 80 feet 3 inches in length, and 23 feet in breadth; was carvel built, and had two decks, the height between the decks being 6 feet 6 inches.
There is no record of her having been rebuilt while known as the Princess Mary, though it is probable she was kept in good repair. As the Betsy Cairns, however, it is extremely improbable that she ever received more than the most necessary repairs; for in those days it was the custom for owners to let their vessels run until they sank into watery graves and became the property of underwriters.
The long and useful life of this vessel is an eloquent tribute to the excellence, at this period, of material and workmanship; and yet this very durability, perhaps more than in any other thing, proved the most effective obstacle to improvement in naval architecture and construction. The fact that a vessel 139 years old could earn a living by carrying coals, shows how slight must have been the improvement in vessels in this flourishing and important industry, where competition is keen and intelligent.
This old craft was an object of especial affection, not unmixed with superstition, among the ​sailors of the east coast. For many years a memorable prophecy had been associated with her fortunes, to the effect, "that the Catholics would never get the better while the Betsy Cairns was afloat"; hence, these rugged, brave seamen heard of her fate with grief and apprehension.
The Princess Mary, however, had, during a portion of her career, two companions almost as venerable as herself. One of these was the royal yacht William and Mary, built at Chatham, by R. Lee, in 1694; length of keel, 62 feet 10 inches; breadth, 21 feet 7 inches; depth, 10 feet 6 inches; 172 tons burden, rebuilt at Deptford in 1765. She appears in the Navy List of 1800, being then under repair at Deptford, and at that date was the oldest vessel in the British Navy. The next oldest was the royal yacht Medina, built at Portsmouth in 1702; length of keel, 42 feet 10 inches; breadth, 17 feet; depth, 8 feet 6 inches; and 66 tons burden.
These yachts were in active service in the year 1800, and probably later, although they disappear from our sight at this date, except that the name of the William and Mary was changed to the Coquette in 1807. Had they possessed the power of speech and memory, what stories they could have told of fêtes and frolics on the starlit, summer sea, the gentle breeze bearing across her calm bosom the sweet perfume of ripening fields; of gallant men and fair women, their vows of constancy and love whispered and sealed by lips long silent and turned to dust; Of war and battle; of crashing, splintering ​shot, flashing sabres, boarding pikes, and vicious grappling irons; of gun-crews stripped to the waist, with hairy arms and bodies tattooed in India ink, smeared with gunpowder and sweat; the oaths of the wounded and moans of the dying; the fierce wild shouts of victory, as the enemy hauled down his colors, blood trickling from the lee scuppers, amid smoke and the tumult of battle. Of bleak wintry gales, the spray flying across the decks, sheathing the bulwarks and rigging in icy armor; the giant waves rushing onward, bearing their white crests on high like warriors in battle, surging in seething breakers under the lee.
These visions, and many more, lay hidden among the oaken planks and timbers of these ancient sisters of the sea. We may look and look in vain for their records upon the page of history—they perished when these old-time yachts silently vanished from the ocean.
In the year 1690, among the numerous plots and counterplots incident to the Jacobite movement, was one in connection with which Viscount Preston undertook to convey certain letters,—one from Catherine Sedley, of a personal, if not private, nature, complaining of her lover, etc.; and two others of importance, one from Francis Turner, Bishop of Ely, intended for the Court of St. Germain, and the other to Mary of Madena, then residing in France. To carry out his plans, Preston chartered the smack James and Elizabeth to transport him and two Jacobite agents, named Ashton and Elliot, from the Thames to France. ​The skipper of this craft, it appears, "conceived a suspicion that the expedition for which the smack had been hired was of a political rather than of a commercial nature," and it occurred to him that more might be realized by informing against his passengers than by performing the service he had been engaged for.
He accordingly gave information of what was going on—probably through the usual channels—to the Duke of Leeds, then Lord President, "who took his measures with his usual energy and dexterity and put a trusty officer named Billop in charge of his eldest son's yacht to intercept Preston and his fellow-conspirators."
Now, it appears that this son of the Duke of Leeds was Caermarthen, Earl of Danby, and, as we shall presently see, was a friend of Peter the Great. According to Macaulay, he was a "bold, volatile, and somewhat eccentric young man, fond of the sea and lived much among sailors, and was the proprietor of a small yacht of marvellous speed."
Billop and a crew of picked men went down the river in the yacht, "as if for the purpose of pressing mariners," and "at dead of night," on New Year's Eve, 1691, Preston and his companions went on board the smack near the Tower, and made sail down the river in "great dread" lest they be stopped by the frigate at Greenwich, or by the guard at the block-house at Gravesend. Having escaped these difficulties, their spirits naturally rose, and their appetites became keen. So they unpacked a hamper, containing "roast beef, mince ​pies, and bottles of wine," and were preparing to make merry when the skipper reported that "a vessel from Tilbury was flying through the water after them."
This intelligence proved so startling that the three jolly conspirators speedily turned in dismay from the good cheer spread before them, to a place where safety was the chief consideration. This proved to be a hole among the gravel-ballast, into which they clambered with alacrity, whereupon the hatch-covers were quickly put on and secured. But had they known as much as their perfidious skipper, they would have saved themselves this trouble; as it is quite probable that this astute mariner, in addition to enjoying their discomfiture and his now certain prospect of reward, also derived pleasure from their mince pies and bottles of wine.
At all events, Caermarthen's "yacht of marvellous speed" soon ranged alongside, and "Billop at the head of an armed party came on board." The hatch-covers were removed, the conspirators arrested, their clothes examined, and letters seized. Failing in their efforts to bribe the incorruptible Billop, all were taken on board the yacht, and safely landed at Whitehall Stairs in the evening.
In 1698, Peter the Great came to England in pursuit of knowledge relating to naval affairs and shipbuilding. Becoming weary of the life in London, he vacated his quarters in Norfolk Street, overlooking the Thames, for Sayers Court, the estate of John Evelyn, near Deptford. Here he worked as a shipwright in the dockyard. Macaulay ​records that, "Peter gave himself up to his favorite pursuits. He navigated a yacht every day up and down the river. His apartment was crowded with models of three-deckers and two-deckers, frigates, sloops, and fire-ships. The only Englishman of rank in whose society he seemed to take much pleasure was the eccentric Caermarthen, whose passion for the sea bore some resemblance to his own, and who was very competent to give an opinion about every part of a ship from the stem to the stern."
Czar Peter, however, had been a yachtsman long before he came to England. It is related that "when a boy he was one day walking with Francis Timerman, who then lived with him as his tutor, about the grounds of Ishmaeloft, an old palace of the family near Moscow, when, among other things, he happened to notice a boat, and asked Timerman what it was, and how they made use of it. His tutor explained that it went with a sail, with the wind or against it, which made him greatly wonder, and, as though not credible, raised his curiosity to see a proof of it." Carsters Brand, a shipwright from Holland, who had been employed by Peter's father, was accordingly directed to repair the boat and fit her out. He then sailed up and down the Yause, a small river near Moscow, in Peter's sight, "which was a great wonder to the Czar, and pleased him exceedingly."
As may be supposed, Peter wished, like any other well-regulated boy, to sail this boat himself; and he also considered the waters of the Yause too narrow for successful navigation; so he ordered ​the boat to be carried into water called the Prussian Pond. This proving not much better, he resolved to have her taken to the Lake Perestave. By this time, his mother, the Czarina, became alarmed and endeavored to dissuade him from his intention, but, with the ingenuity of youth, Peter contrived to have the boat transported to Lake Perestave, and then, under pretext of performing a vow in Trinity Monastery, prevailed upon his august mother to allow him to make the journey. After inspecting the lake, he persuaded her to build a house there. Eventually Carsters Brand also was established in a small shipyard on the shore of the lake, where he built two miniature frigates and three small yachts. With these Peter diverted himself for a few years. In 1694 he visited Archangel, and sailed from there in his yacht the St. Peter, for Ponoia, in company with the English and French fleet of merchant ships under convoy of a Dutch man-of-war, commanded by Captain Jolle Jolson. Peter was so delighted with this voyage that he resolved upon building a fleet and establishing shipbuilding yards on the river Veronez. Shipwrights were sent for from Holland, and in 1696 the first naval vessels were constructed in Russia. Peter sent great numbers of his nobility and gentry into Holland and other countries to learn shipbuilding and navigation. In 1697 he went himself to Holland, and there engaged as a workman in a shipbuilding yard near Amsterdam, working at all the branches of ship-construction, from laying the keel to the bending of sails. It is related of him that, while doing ​some rigging-work one day in the maintopmast cross-trees, an ambassador was announced. Peter ordered him, much against his will, to climb the rigging and pay his respects. The unfortunate ambassador upon doing so, found the Czar enthroned, with a marlinspike for a sceptre and a tarbucket slung round his neck.
From Holland Peter went to England on board of a British ship-of-war, commanded by Admiral Sir David Mitchell. He was greatly interested in everything on board, and asked the admiral many questions concerning the modes of punishing seamen in the British Navy. When keel-hauling, among other things, was mentioned, Peter desired that it might be explained to him by actual experience. The admiral was obliged to decline the request, not then having an offender deserving this punishment; to which the Czar replied, "take one of my men." Sir David had some difficulty in making the Czar comprehend that all on board his ship were under the protection of the laws of England, and that he was accountable for every man there according to those laws. This appeared to surprise Peter, and he reluctantly abandoned keelhauling as an amusement. At this time the Czar was in his twenty-sixth year.
After remaining in England for about three months, Peter returned to Russia, where he took upon himself the title of Master Shipwright, and made, with his own hands, the model and drawings of a 110-gun ship-of-war, which proved one of the best vessels built at that time. ​In 1723 the Czar ordered a grand Naval Review, and in June he sailed with his fleet from Revel to Cronstadt. When the fleet had assembled, the little boat in which he had first sailed on the Yause, and which he had caused to be beautifully decorated, was brought into the fleet on the deck of a galliot, and the admirals of the fleet were ordered to pay her their respects. The fleet then weighed anchor and stood into the haven, except the galliot, which remained outside. The Czar then made a visit with the admirals, and had his boat launched from the deck of the galliot, flying the Imperial standard. He christened her the Little Grandsire, as he regarded this boat as the father of the Russian Navy. He then ordered her manned by the three senior admirals and the chief surveyor of the Navy, Ivan Golovin; and, steering himself, he sailed into the haven, the whole fleet saluting with their guns. Then came a splendid banquet, and "the evening closed with merriment."
A few days later the Little Grandsire was taken to St. Petersburg and carefully laid away in the castle, where she is still preserved.
Czar Peter died in 1725, in his fifty-third year, and the thirty-sixth one of his reign.
In 1699 the first Eddystone Lighthouse was completed. This structure was built by Winstanley, who, with others, lost his life when the lighthouse was swept away by a severe storm, November 27, 1703. Rebuilt in 1708, it was finally burnt in 1755. In 1759 Smeaton completed the third Eddystone Lighthouse. For more than a century it stood, a ​monument to his genius, and outlasted the rock upon which its foundation was laid.
During the rebuilding of the first lighthouse a French privateer on one occasion captured and bore home in triumph all the workmen, with their tools, from the rock, France at that time being at war with England. When Louis XIV. heard of this, he immediately ordered the workmen to be released and their captors put in their places, indignantly remarking that though he was at war with England, he was not at war with mankind, and that a lighthouse was intended to benefit every maritime nation on the earth.