The Crew Was Too Green

Postmark date of  1908

An amusing tale of a master's troubles with green sailors is told by the Port Townsend Call concerning the Chilean ship OTHELLO, 1414 tons, Captain Welsh. The OTHELLO loaded a cargo of lumber at Port Blakeley for the west coast and started for sea Sunday. She returned to Townsend Monday and the Call says:
      "Captain Welsh has a job-lot of dry-land sailors which he would like to dispose of at a bargain for decorative purposes. Several of the men were secured from up-Sound before the OTHELLO reached Townsend and, fortunately for Capt. Welsh, he was not outside the Cape when he discovered that landscape gardeners and sowing machine agents predominated. Not caring to attempt the voyage with a crew of passengers the OTHELLO put back. It was when the OTHELLO was off Pt. Angeles in tow that the captain made his first important discovery.
      "Get the wheel," he commanded a forecastle occupant. The man started aft with alacrity. In about ten minutes he returned and informed Capt. Welsh that he could not find it.
      "Find what?" demanded the surprised captain. 
      "Your wheel," blandly replied the mariner, adding "you must have left it on the dock at Blakeley, for I saw a fellow riding one there."
      In despair Captain Welsh turned to another, "Go aft and take the wheel," he said and the man went on a run. A few minutes later the mate was called. "I can't keep this up long," said the sailor "it turns too hard, and besides I can't see the use of using the propeller when that steamboat ahead is towing us fast enough." He afterwards said he supposed that was the way the propeller was run, for he hadn't seen any steam appliances such as engines aboard to turn it.
      Feeling it would be unkind to take such a crowd out where the water was too deep to walk ashore whenever they decided to quit, Captain Welsh came back, and will get a crew of sailors at this port before proceeding on his voyage again.
Tacoma Daily Ledger, 24 October 1901

   

❖ THE SOPHIE RAN TO COD ❖

Captain John E. Shields
Dated 12 September 1948
Original photo from the archives of the S. P. H. S.©

Claiming the greatest voyage ever made by a American codfishing vessel, the four-masted schooner SOPHIE CHRISTENSON, was towed into Puget Sound, 5 Sept 1933, after five months in the Bering Sea. Captain-owner J. E. Shields and crew claimed for the SOPHIE; (1) the largest total catch made by one ship on one voyage––453,356 fish, 700 tons; (2) largest catch ever made by one man on one voyage––Ray Press––25,487 fish; (3) largest catch made by one man in one day's fishing––Dannie McEachran, Newfoundland second mate––1,051 fish; (4) largest catch made by one ship in one day––16,851 fish.
Records or not, the SOPHIE had just concluded her finest trip with some $30,000 pay to divide among her crew of forty-one. She brought back one black mark––empty dory No. 13. It had been found after a five-day southeasterly gale and twenty-eight year old Sven Markstrom was missing.
Capt. Shields and 2nd Mate McEachran told of days in the Bering Sea when a gray cloud-rack scudded over the mastheads as she labored through a smother that swept her decks from the jib boom to taffrail. In this sea, the dories, swung over the side one by one, were whirled away and out of sight in the great, gray waves churned along the schooner's sides.
Out in the dories each fisherman was alone between turbulent sea and sky, his outboard motor keeping him underway as the little craft soared and plunged, fishing all the time until the load crowded the gunwales. Then back toward the schooner and after making fast his falls, each man would dive like a porpoise for the decks as the sea swung him level with the pitching rail.
The men told of that record day––24 July––when the dories came out of the fog laden with enough fish to swamp the stay-aboard crew that had to split and salt the catch and everyone had visions of gold at the end of the rainbow.
The captain and men spoke low when they talked of that other day when Sven Markstrom was lost to leeward in the gale. They could not see the man alone in the dory as the ship lay miles away but they knew the trampling thunder of an Arctic sea towering out of sight. Somehow they knew this man would  never come back yet waited in silence under a beacon flare on the heaving deck. Five days later when the gale had blown itself out they found the empty dory. The men accepted this stoically as a part of codfishing in the Bering Sea.
The SOPHIE CHRISTENSON always made good newspaper copy. Writing in The Seattle Star, 28 April 1937, H. E. Jamison told of the preparations for another five-months stay in the north.

      Towering above the dock sheds the four masts of the SOPHIE CHRISTENSON have been beckoning waterfront wanderers to Pier Four. Monday, 22 dories were snuggled up to the port side of the windjammer, like so many chicks on a frosty morning.
They were waiting patiently to be hoisted aboard and nested 'tween decks for their long trek to Bristol Bay. Once beyond 'Smoking Moses' (Mount Shishaldin) in the Aleutians, these frail craft will be manned by lusty codfishermen.
Capt. John Shields, large and rosy-cheeked, looking more like a small town business man than a deep sea fisherman, was busy looking after last minute details and checking supplies aboard. He did manage to take time out to tell me he had 400 tons of salt aboard and that in the five months they'd be gone he hoped to bring back at least 600 tons of codfish.
The fishermen work on a share basis, while the others are on a monthly salary. Aside from the officers, the 'others' are mostly the dress gang––those who stay aboard, dress and clean the fish before they are passed to the salters in the holds.
The railings of the SOPHIE are scarred deep by lines from those aboard who fish when time lags heavy on their hands.

The fisherman I was talking to had been battling the waters of Bristol Bay for 23 years. He told me that in the old days the dories were fitted with leg-o'-mutton sails. When it blew up a storm the fishermen, who could not get back to the mother ship, fashioned a sea anchor from a sail, and hove to. Occasionally men were lost.
Now the 16-ft dories are equipped with 12-HP motors. These light motors are installed in a well that is entirely decked over. The bows are fitted with canvas shields to break the spray that comes aboard.
The men fish from dawn to dark. They are not supposed to go much farther than five or six miles from their vessel and keep a weather eye peeled for the signal that warns them the barometer is taking a nose dive. When the jib of the mother ship is hoisted they are supposed to make for it and batten down.

The cod is a bottom fish or, as my informant told me, a 'gurry sucker'. The mother ship anchors on the banks and the dories, when they are dropped over the side, drift with the tide, dragging an anchor around one of the flukes of which has been fastened a half hitch. This hitch on a taut line, robs the anchor of its effectiveness. The anchor bumps along the bottom, somewhat checking the speed of the dory. The fisherman has a line in each hand, one over each side of his craft, and as soon as he strikes good fishing he pays out all his anchor line. The slack causes the half hitch to come adrift and the anchor holds.
As soon as he has a load he hauls up the anchor on a handy gurdy, cranks up his engine and heads back to the ship. After the fish are loaded aboard the schooner he goes aboard for a 'mug up.' The table is never unset and the fishermen eat all they can whenever they can. "They fed swell on the schooners," said my fisherman.

If he should catch any fish he drifts back toward the mother ship when the tide turns and keeps at it until he has a load.
The fishermen average over and above expenses, about $500, or about $100 per month.
Incidentally, the fishermen never touch the fish with their hands. As soon as they are hauled alongside they slit the throats to bleed them. Then by skillfully manipulating their gaffs, they extricate the hook. They pitchfork them aboard the mother ship with along handled single-prong fork, called a pew.
All fishermen think theirs is the toughest of all fishing, but there is no doubt that dawn-to-dusk codfishing ranks close to halibut fishing for arduous work."
Words only from: Fish and Ships. Ralph Andrews and A. K. Larssen.

These 9 donated photos
aboard the Schooner SOPHIE CHRISTENSON 
are unidentified for date and names  
of fishermen. Can you help us with
names of any crew?

❖ The Sweet SIGHTSEER ❖

SIGHTSEER (ex-VASHONA)

Click to enlarge.
Pre 1954. 

Original photo from 

the Saltwater People Historical Society©

“I spent a wonderful day in, I believe, 1961, cruising from Leschi Park to Pier 56, and return. I had written the Gray Line asking for a job. They offered me a ride instead. I spent time in the pilot house, engine room, and passenger cabin. She was maintained like a yacht. 
      When we lived above Lake Washington in the 1950s and early 1960s, I could hear her mellow whistle blow when she docked at Leschi Park at 5 pm, every day."
      The above quote was shared this day by mariner Jack Russell, Seattle. He owns Sternwheel Charters, LLC, and can be reached at 206-850-7648.

  

SIGHTSEER (ex-VASHONA)

ON 221333
99 G.t / 53 N.t. Passenger vessel.
110.1' Reg. L x 22.9' b x 22.9' x 6.5 d

1921. Built by John Martinolich at Dockton for Tacoma-Quartermaster Harbor route of the Vashon Navigation Co.

1926. SIGHTSEER received the engine from UTOPIA.

1931. Now too large for the dwindling passenger traffic on her route; it was replaced by the small freight, passenger vessel CONCORDIA, built Tacoma.

1946. Mrs. John L. Anderson sold SIGHTSEER (ex-VASHONA) to Grayline Tours of Seattle for the continuation of the Lake Washington Ship Canal-Puget Sound run instituted by the late Captain John L. Anderson.

1963 SIGHTSEER, out of service.

Above stats from The H. W. McCurdy Marine History of the Pacific Northwest. Edited by Gordon Newell. Superior Pub. 1966.

     

Coffee First.

S. S. LURLINE "Lost" on Puget Sound
By Captain James Crooks

Bush Point, Westside of Whidbey Island, WA.
Click to enlarge.

I joined the S. S. LURLINE at San Francisco, CA, early in February 1923. The LURLINE was a combination cargo and passenger vessel plying between Pacific Coast ports and the Hawaiian Islands and was operated by the Matson Navigation Co of San Fran. I shipped as quartermaster and we left for Puget Sound.

S. S. LURLINE, Matson Line, mid 1930s, arriving Hawaii.
 Yes, this is the gal that played on the shore of Whidbey Island, WA.
Courtesy of Wikipedia.

      We picked up cargo and passengers at various Sound ports and were on our way to Hawaii when we ran into a dense fog in the vicinity of Whidbey Island; while maneuvering at different speeds and even being completely stopped at intervals, the current evidently carried us off our course and suddenly while traveling at full seed ahead––we ran ashore.
      The engine room was located in the after end of this vessel and most of the weight, of course, being in that end, we ran well up on the beach when we grounded. The passengers felt the impact and soon they were all out on deck. The fog was so dense that we could not even see the land where we had beached.
      There did not appear to be any particular damage done and soundings disclosed that the vessel was dry and no water was entering the hull. 
      About an hour after we grounded, the fog cleared away and passengers and crew alike, gathered on the fore part of the vessel to look around and, if possible, to ascertain where we were. As we looked at the beach we observed a very old, gray-haired man approach the bow of our vessel. He carried a small stool with him; in a slow-motion manner, carefully set it down on the shingle beach right alongside our bow which was high and dry. Questions were fired at this old man from those assembled on the bow asking him where we were but he ignored them and asked to see the captain. The captain was immediately notified and appeared on the bow high above the old man calmly sitting on his stool on the beach. It was obvious that while we were all interested, the captain was the one who was most interested in solving that question. He leaned over the bow with his scrambled-egg hat and four gold rings on his coat sleeves prominently displayed to the old man. Apparently not wishing to have both passengers and crew know that he did not know where we were, he asked the old man how far we were from Bush Point. 
      This old man, who apparently had at one time been a seaman, was not eager to answer questions. He said, "Well, you are the captain, I see. I have lived here for many years (in an isolated cabin which was close by) and I have had many things drift on to the beach but never before have I had an ocean liner come pretty near right into my house!" Then he asked if we had any coffee on board and when told we had plenty he said, "when you give me some coffee I will tell you just where you are".      
      The master stood by waiting and obviously worried while a white coated flunkey was dispatched for a pitcher of coffee which the boatswain lowered down with a heaving line and a bucket. It was not until he had a swig of coffee that the old man resumed his conversation and then he said, addressing the captain, "so you want to know how far you are from Bush Point. Well, you could not be any closer for you are right on it".
      As soon as the captain definitely knew where we were, the Coast Guard was notified and a Coast Guard cutter and several towboats soon arrived and at high water attempted to pull us off the beach without success.
      These vessels did not leave the vicinity after they failed to haul us off but anchored close by with the intention of making another attempt on the next high tide. That same night shortly before high water and without any warning we slipped down the beach into deep water; so suddenly did this occur that we almost drifted on top of the vessels anchored close by. The heavy current carried us free of the coast. A survey showed that there had been no damage done to the ship and we proceeded on the voyage to the Hawaiian Islands.

E. C. Kropp postcard
From the archives of the S.P.H.S.©

Text courtesy of Puget Sound Maritime Historical Society,
Seattle, WA.
By Capt. James Crooks, 
Quarterly journal ,The Sea Chest. March 1974.
Bush Point ❖ ❖ Named in 1855 by the US Coast Survey because of "one or two clumps of trees and bushes."  
Washington State Place Names. James W. Phillips. U of WA, 1971.

❖ KANAKAS ❖

"The very first schooling was in private homes, and the first school houses were built by donation. From an old list of contributors to the building of the first school house on San Juan in the year 1865, we will record here six names, S. V. Boyce, Charles McCoy, Joseph Nickerson, George Walker, Louis Farado, and Tahana. There were 41 names on this list and the donations were days of work––so many days––or with yokes of oxen or teams,or cedar shakes, or work and money, or money, ten dollars in gold, a number of times. The last two names may seem unusual. They were Kanakas.
      An unlooked-for nationality, it would seem, and interesting, to trace. Most of the sailing vessels from Europe to the Puget Sound would put in at the Sandwich Islands for fresh water and provisions. Also many a sailor's fancy was taken by the happy, easy life of these islands and desertions were many. The natives were, by nature good sailors, and learned seamanship easily; it was common practice to fill out the crew by shipping Kanakas. These in turn often left the ship while in Victoria and their places were filled usually by white men seeking passage back to Europe.
      

Kanaka Bay, San Juan Island, WA. 1911
From the Galen Biery Collection

     Fish being plentiful and the climate mild, some of these Kanakas brought their wives to Victoria, BC,  and there was a little settlement of Kanakas, known as Kanaka Row. The Hudson Bay Co found that the Kanakas made very satisfactory herdsmen. They brought a number of Kanakas to San Juan Island; they settled on that westerly part of the island that is now marked on the chart "Kanaka Bay." They and their families lived there and took some part in many of the activities.
      After the settlement of the Boundary Dispute they were all removed to Victoria. Near to the entrance of the Oceanographic Labs of the University of WA, a Kanaka by the name of Joe Friday built his cabin and made his home. For several years his was the only smoke visible from the bay that came to be known as Friday's Harbor. The first large map used in the courthouse still carried the possessive and was marked Friday's Harbor."

Above text written by dedicated island historian Frank Mullis(1886-1967), Friday Harbor, WA., a history series entitled "Partial History of the San Juan Islands"

Published by The Friday Harbor Journal, 1950s.
More reading: Koppel, Tom. KANAKA, The Untold Story of Hawaiian Pioneers in British Columbia and the Pacific Northwest. Vancouver/Toronto. Whitecap Books. 1995.