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Jeanie Johnston: A Voyage Against All Odds

by Tom Kindre

225 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0945; ISBN 1-4120-0576-0; US$20.00, C$26.95, EUR18.00, £13.00

The building of a replica Irish famine ship is plagued by problems, but the spirit of all is restored by a triumphant transatlantic voyage. Join in this amazing journey.

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about the book      about the author      table of contents and excerpts      catalogue info

About the Book This is the story of two dreamers -- a visionary Irishman who dreams of recreating an historic 19th century ship and sailing her to America, and the author, an octogenarian American who becomes obsessed with the Irishman's dream and surmounts the age barrier to become a signed-on crew member. Building the ship is plagued by every imaginable problem -- cost overruns, tangled ownership, legal and financial squabbles -- and three years go by before she is ready to sail. The faith of many is strained, but the ship finally triumphs over her troubles and completes a memorable transatlantic voyage. The book includes background on the famine years, a blow-by-blow account of the Jeanie Johnston's stormy birth, authoritative descriptions of the ship and a colorful day-by-day diary of the 59-day voyage. It is illustrated with 43 photographs of the ship's construction and the voyage.

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About the Author Tom Kindre, a retired magazine editor and public relations executive, has been a speech writer, advertising copywriter, creative director and corporate communications specialist. He is a World War II veteran, founder of The Rutgers Oral History Archives of World War II and president of The Rutgers Living History Society. A long-time sailor, he is an officer in the US Coast Guard Auxiliary and sails his ketch Second Wind off the New Jersey coast and in the Chesapeake.

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Table of Contents and Excerpts

CHAPTER 1: The Dream Takes Shape
CHAPTER 2: A Late-in-Life Sailor
CHAPTER 3: The Battle of the Ages
CHAPTER 4: Square Rigger Hubris
CHAPTER 5: Slipping Away Into the Future
CHAPTER 6: The Great Lady Herself
CHAPTER 7: Secret Lives of a Tall Ship
CHAPTER 8:"The Project Has Been Abandoned"
CHAPTER 9: The Ship is Under Arrest
CHAPTER 10: Headed For the Auctioneer's Block
CHAPTER 11: The Last of the Leprechauns
THE GRAND VOYAGE
Prologue
Voyage Diary
Epilogue

excerpt from CHAPTER 3: The Battle of the Ages

"How old are you?" Captain Mike Forwood asked. It was February, 2000, and I was on the phone with the Jeanie Johnston's master. He had read my sailing resume and wanted more information.

"Well," I hesitated. "I know the ship's insurance covers people only up to age 69, and I'm older than that."

"Then you'll have to get your own insurance. So, then, how old are you?"

"I'm in my 70s," I ventured, not wanting to squelch my chances before he'd even met me or had any idea about my capabilities.

"Not too high up in the 70s, I hope."

"I certainly hope not," I responded. In truth, I would be almost 79 when the ship was scheduled to sail in April. "Contact the Guinness Book of World Records," my son-in-law had suggested. "You might become the oldest man ever to cross the Atlantic on the crew of a square-rigged ship."

excerpt from CHAPTER 10: Headed For The Auctioneer's Block

For the ship's crew, their local voyage had been a memorable one. For her partisans, the future was looking brighter. The Jeanie Johnston had not only passed all her tests and become the darling of the crowds; she had also proved her seaworthiness by weathering a great storm.

Now if only her human mentors could work out their differences, the tide and the force would be with her.

But Murphy and the leprechauns were not finished with her yet. They were lurking just around the corner, and toward the end of June they made their move.

"The **** has hit the fan here," said Helen's urgent email.

The event that had sent shock waves through the ranks of Jeanie Johnston supporters was an announcement by the Kerry County manager that he would advise the Council at their meeting four days hence not to assume ownership because he feared the Council might inherit hidden debts along with the ship.

"If they vote against the takeover," said Helen, "a receiver will most likely be brought in and the ship sold off to the highest bidder."

Who, I wondered, might buy the ship? Many would love to have her but few could afford to buy or keep her up. The worst-case scenario was probably the most likely: the ship would be bought by a Greek tycoon or perhaps by a Saudi prince to be used strictly as a plaything.

I pictured a horrifying outcome. The Saudi prince sails his newly-acquired ship, Saudi flag flying from the masthead, into Boston Harbor. Thousands of Irate Irish/American Bostonians, in a great roiling crowd, race to the waterfront, crowd into whatever boats are available and make their way to where the Jeanie Johnston (if, indeed, that is still her name) lies at anchor, board the ship, throw its owner overboard and hoist up the Irish flag. A latter-day Boston Tea Party.

Heaven forbid that it should ever come to that.

excerpt from DAY 9: Monday, 24 February. Position at 1530: 41-10 N, 13-53 W.

The ship is talking to Peter O'Regan. As we toil through these steep and difficult seas, Peter roams from bow to stern, listening to the timbers groan and shift. "They're doing exactly what we expect them to do," he says. To Peter, a wooden ship is a living thing, and he understands its language: "The timbers are always 'working.' That's the way wooden ships are. All the wooden parts are constantly adjusting, finding new relationships with one another." If one of the relationships is not working out well, Peter's practiced ear warns him that this is an area to watch carefully. But at this point he seems satisfied with the music that reaches his ears from this symphony of creaking beams.

excerpt from DAY 43: Sunday, 30 March. Noon position: 21-31 N, 49-01 W. Distance to West Palm Beach-- 1,773 nautical miles.

The weather has changed-- and changed again. The trade wind, pushing us along nicely, reversed itself and blew hard on our bow. For two days it held there, while we motored with furled sails. Then, about 0600 today, it reversed again and blew with a vengeance. We got square sails up and in a few minutes were making almost nine knots. But then big seas arose, and we've had rolling and lurching that matches the worst of the Fenit-Madeira run.

For our new crop of young sail trainees, this is their baptism of fire. They are looking pale and running for the rail. On the mess deck, at breakfast, dishes flew from the table, then some of the food. In no time, the floor was slick with grease and porridge, feet flew out from under legs and bodies crashed.

In the great cabin, cupboard doors flew open and wine glasses, one after another, popped out and smashed themselves in a ghostly toast; while Sarah the cook's pet goldfish flew through the air, tank and all, to crash and slither on the floor. Jim grabbed the fish while Richard filled a water tumbler to give them temporary quarters.

Being on deck seemed safer than being below, but then some of the outdoor mess tables and benches broke their lashings and slid menacingly across the deck. At that point the Captain ordered everyone below decks.

By lunch time there was no let-up; if anything the lurches were faster and nastier. A member of the 12 to 4 watch, trying to catch a little sleep, was seen to rise from his bunk in an involuntary levitation. Gavin, carrying a teapot, lost his footing and the teapot flew, splattering three people. Others came to the rescue and ended up in a pileup of bodies at the next roll.

In the galley, a vast lurch brought dozens of plates and bowls rising out of their overhead racks, and all hands reached up to hold them in place.

But all these inconveniences-- heart-stopping as they may be at the moment-- are only the necessary evils of a challenging ocean voyage. We have almost 30 knots of wind on our starboard quarter and are doing some seven-and-a-half knots through short 12-foot seas. From the top of the aft deckhouse the view is spectacular as the ship rises with the swells, plows into the troughs and sends tons of white water cascading.

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Catalogue Information

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