Tom Cunliffe
Captains of racing tea clippers were generally larger-than-life individuals. No doubt they loved their wives and children and missed the village fête back home, but the thing that consumed their minds all day, every day, was speed.
Making the fastest passage of the year spelt prestige and commercial gain, lots of it, and immoderate behaviour went with the job. The only modern comparisons are the skippers of flat-out Volvo racers, driving round Cape Horn at galactic velocities in their lightweight flyers, but even these dedicated ‘walkers on the wild side’ have radar, GPS, composite construction and a team of well-paid professionals. Not so the clipper men back in the 1850s. Their timber-built ships displaced the best part of a thousand tons and their clouds of cotton canvas were set from vulnerable wooden spars. Crews consisted of a core of officers backed up by a handful of
