From the day she was launched in 1841, the Charles W. Morgan has been lucky, not an inconsiderable quality in a small, wooden ship that pursued
It was a freak current, according to a journal by one of her harpooners, that carried the Morgan and her becalmed crew clear of certain death in 1850 at the hands of the natives of Nonouti, deep in the heart of the Great South Sea. Floating ice saved her from destruction by the Confederate commerce raider Shenandoah in 1865 - before news reached the Siberian Arctic that the Civil War was about to end.
That the Morgan exists today, maritime historians say, is luck itself, after thousands of encounters with enraged whales and continuous circumnavigation over 80 years and 37 voyages - voyages often three years or longer in duration.
But exist she does. And to underscore that fact, her owner,
Should the trustees of the Seaport, the country's pre-eminent maritime museum, decide to return the Morgan to the open ocean, it probably will take place in 2012 or 2013. A visit to New Bedford,
The trustees already have approved $6 million to begin restoring the Morgan to what she has been for the 68 years she has belonged to the Seaport: an exhibit tied to a dock in the Mystic River. When the trustees vote, probably Friday, it will be to decide whether to raise another $1.5 to $2 million to make the ship capable of sailing again.
Devotees of American maritime history have followed the run-up to a decision. Thousands have examined the specially designed dry dock at the Seaport where, since the Morgan was hauled there last fall, early restoration work has exposed sections of the ship's 168-year-old oak frames. Thousands more have been following over the Internet.
Just tied to a dock, the Morgan is the second-oldest ship afloat in America. Only the USS Constitution - the Navy's "Old Ironsides," launched in 1797 - is older. The heavy, 44-gun frigate named by
Mystic Seaport contemplates the same sort of meticulously accurate, historic restoration for the Morgan. She is the only ship remaining from the United States' 19th century whaling fleet, one of 2,700 ships that, over 14,864 voyages, "lit and lubricated the world," says Nantucket native Matthew Stackpole, who is leading the Seaport's fundraising effort for the Morgan. Fortunes accumulated through whale oil and bone underwrote the country's westward migration and financed the industrial revolution.
"The Morgan is the last of her kind," said Seaport President Stephen C. White. "If we don't protect her, this country will lose a very significant object. Some people are concerned that we are glorifying a whale ship. What we are trying to do is preserve this country's response to a challenge - a challenge for energy, a challenge for commerce. The country built ships. First they were little ships. Then we built them bigger and stronger. And the Morgan is one of the finest examples."
Whether she sails or not, the Morgan will remain the centerpiece of the Seaport's significant collection of 19th century American maritime artifacts and that has focused the discussion of whether to expose her once again to the vagaries of wind and water.
A restored Morgan, cruising under sail alone, would be of inestimable promotional value for a museum whose endowment is flattened by recession. But the Seaport's staff of historians, architects and shipwrights have been studying for months whether doing so would amount to an irresponsible exploitation of one of the country's most valuable marine artifacts.
"Are we overly exploiting this object by doing this?" White said. "The answer is no - but not a clean no. Some will argue that because she is the last of her kind and because she is fragile and wooden, she could sink. She could roll over. The masts cold roll out. A storm could come up.
"But the best use of her is to go and be what she is. And this is the best time. It wasn't possible 40 years ago. And it won't be possible 40 years from now. The museum also needs to do something big. And it is in the best interest of the ship."
It is not just any $8 million restoration that the Seaport contemplates. The goal is to replace as little of the Morgan's original materials as possible. Where necessary, replacement materials will be as close to the original as possible.
Since Hurricane Hugo in 1989, the Seaport staff has been chasing storms across the Southeast for the massive, uprooted, live oaks that are necessary to re-create the ship's frames, or ribs. The long, curved frames are 9 1/2 -inches by 9 1/2 -inches and vary from 9 to 14 feet long. They must be sawed, in a single piece, to the proper length and arc, requiring trees of sufficient diameter.
Agents are combing the Georgia, Alabama and north Florida woods for enough long leaf pine to plank the 106-foot long hull and 27-foot-wide deck. Nineteenth century shipbuilders liked long leaf pine because it was hard, yet sufficiently resinous to resist rot. The Morgan's original hull planks are 42 to 47 feet long, 14 to 16 inches wide and about 3 1/2 inches thick. That requires old growth timber, said Quentin Snediker, director of the Seaport's on-site shipyard.
He said the restoration may require 75,000 board feet of lumber, in spite of efforts to retain all that is practical of the 168-year-old wood..
Because the Morgan was built in the era before metal fasteners or screws, a volunteer is shaping 5,000 long thick pegs known as treenails (pronounced trunnels). They are fashioned from long-grain, knot-free black locust and will be driven through drilled holes to connect the Morgan's double-sawed frames to one another and to the hull planking.
That doesn't mean no metal was used in the original. Snediker said there are tens of thousands of bronze nails, spikes and copper rivets in the ship. Every one of them, as is the case with every plank, frame, spar or other piece of material, is being registered in a comprehensive index that may eventually contain a half a million entries.
The Seaport's historic purists are talking to the U.S. Coast Guardand potential insurers about how to set sail without historically impure safety features. The restored ship would carry no auxiliary engine. It could cost $180,000 to insure the Morgan for the single cruise.
"It is the collection of all the subtle things that give the impression of true integrity," said Snediker, who supervised the Seaport's re-creation in the 1990s of the Spanish slave carrier
The Seaport couldn't collect a comprehensive record of the Amistad, but it has one of the Morgan. Libraries and museums in New Bedford, Nantucket, Martha's Vineyard and Providence - in addition to the Seaport's extensive collection - contain, among many other things, inventories of the materials used in her construction (she cost $26,877 to build and $25,977 to outfit) and a record of her first insurance survey (replacement value of the ship and equipment was $48,000). Those records, along with the Morgan's logbooks and scores of other documents, are available for public inspection on the Seaport's Internet site.
The records show labor trouble in the Morgan's past. She was built by the Hillman Brothers of New Bedford, where a top shipwright made $2.25 a day. Her launch was delayed two weeks by a strike over a 10-hour work day. The shipyard wanted work from sunrise to sunset. The compromise: a day 10 1/2 hours long.
What has emerged to date from the renovation is a surprise to no one - the ship was solidly designed and built. The Morgan represented the pinnacle of American naval construction when the United States was emerging as a global maritime power. She was designed to be a world unto herself, capable of surviving years of storms, ice, groundings and a multitude of other calamities while roaming vast emptiness, thousands of miles from help.
"Whale ships took measures to protect hulls and main structures because of the time and distance from home," Stackpole said. "It was a highly evolved trade. They knew what worked and what didn't. When you look at her, you can see how she was massively overbuilt."
The Morgan was fortunate in profitability, too. Over her first 30 years, the gross value of her cargoes of oil and whale bone never fell below of $50,000.
Her crew usually survived, if not as comfortably.
Ship's cook John Harding signed aboard for a 1/145 lay, or share of the profit, on the Morgan's 11th voyage. It was an extended cruise in the vicinity of St. Helena in the south Atlantic, from 1878 to 1881. As cook, Harding also was entitled to half the value of the slush, the grease that floated to the top of the coppers when he boiled the crew's salt beef or pork. Slush, from which the phrase "slush fund" derives, was a cook's prerequisite. It could be sold ashore as a lubricant.
Harding earned $328.19 from his 1/145th lay and $18 from the slush fund. But the owners deducted an advance Harding had taken on his pay, as well as expenses he had run up against the ship during the voyage. Clothing was a typical expense. Rapacious owners charged sailors dearly for clothing during voyages - because they could. There was nowhere else clothing could be had. When the Morgan returned to New Bedford after 1,028 days at sea, Harding owed the ship $432.91.
For crew members, completing a voyage was an accomplishment, regardless of profitability. Sailors died of disease, months from medical care. They were crippled by falls from rigging or when harpooned whales shattered whaleboats. At least twice while Morgan was in the cold and foggy Sea of Okhotsk, boat crews fastened by harpoon to tormented whales were carried over the horizon and, in the mind of the Morgan's masters, into eternity.
The boat crews survived both times. On the first occasion, the sailors were rescued by another whaler. The second time, they sailed their tiny boat to Russia and obtained passage to California.
The Morgan sailed from New Bedford except for two decades at the end of the 1800s, when her owners moved her to San Francisco to be closer to the then-profitable northern Pacific whale grounds. She returned by way of Cape Horn in 1904. In 1921, the developing American petroleum industry killed whaling. The Morgan was laid up in New Bedford, heeled over in the mud and left to rot.