DISCOVER LONDON
Dee, who is wearing very little – only a “cutty sark”
(or “short nightdress”) covers her. It isn’t clear exactly
why this name was chosen, but perhaps the speed of
Nannie and how it made her garments move in the
poem was thought to be suitable for a clipper.
The ship’s original figurehead was of Nannie. The
original design still exists, and plans are afoot for a new
one based on it to be created. In the meantime, there’s a
replica on her bow and another down beneath the ship,
part of the world’s largest collection of merchant navy
figureheads. This is a lovely corner of the museum –
look out for the figurehead of a little terrier dog, not to
mention two carved hands poking out from the wall!
It is down here that you’ll find yourself looking up at
963 tonnes-worth of ship. It’s a surreal experience – you
feel akin to a tiny fish deep at sea. The engineering is
pretty awesome and, even if you have no prior interest
in ship design, the sheer scale of it is breathtaking.
Much of the museum is covered, but it’s up on the
main deck, with the masts and clouds above, that you get
closer to understanding what day-to-day life was like for
the crew. For one, it would have been extremely smelly,
as pigs were kept at the bow, while chickens lived at the
stern, tended to by apprentices – and appearing in meals
over the course of a journey.
The bow is also were the “heads” (or lavatories) were.
These were flushed out with a saltwater pump, but one
can’t help but wince when imagining the stench. The
Deckhouse was where the able and ordinary seamen
ate and slept (canvas bags doubling as pillows) or they
might make ropes. Almost all would have smoked pipes
or chewed tobacco. The deckhouse is lined by bunkbeds
- hard and brown, like shallow boxes that do not suggest
comfort. However, the crew wouldn’t have spent much
time in here anyway. The watch system meant that they
worked four hours on then four hours off.
There is a report by an apprentice who worked on
Cutty Sark in the late 1890s that anyone caught snoozing
on their watch would be forced to “ride the grey mare”,
which meant sitting on the upper topsail yard for the
rest of the watch – a queasy, frightening punishment, no
doubt. The galley kitchen is small but somehow inviting,
perhaps because one likes to see familiar items or scenes
when on unfamiliar territory. However, the menu doesn’t
sound at all bad. Pea soup, salted meats and potato pie
would have all featured.
The Liverpool House, on the ship’s stern, was where the
master and two mates would have slept. These quarters
were far better than those of the ordinary seamen, but
were by no means stately. You can see how physically
close the crew lived together – and it’s not hard to
understand how tensions might rise, as in the case
of the Cutty Sark’s most dramatic journey.
In 1880, she was en route to Japan on a coal delivery.
Halfway there, mutiny broke out when the first mate,
Sidney Smith, who had a reputation for being a bully,
got into an altercation with John Francis, who’d signed
on as an “able seaman”.
“It became obvious fairly quickly that Francis wasn’t
© NATIONAL MARITIME MUSEUM/COWARD_LION/ALAMYfollowing orders,” explains Stockton. “Francis wasn’t
