p16  II.

Partners Three

In the southern part of Philadelphia's Dock Ward dwelt two tradesmen friends of John Barry. One was John Dugan, shopkeeper; the other, Stephen Barden, grocer. Comfortably established and well-to‑do, they were not content; wealth could be accumulated but slowly across the retail counter. Dugan and Barden cast envious eyes upon the success­ful merchants and shipowners, who had outdistanced them in amassing fortunes and whose establishments were busy beehives of trade. Neither contemplated abandoning his business, but both had capital they were willing and eager to invest jointly in a shipping venture. Also, they had agreed upon Barry as just the man to select and command a vessel for them.

Perhaps they broached the subject to him when they learned his long connection with Edward Denny was approaching conclusion. If so, no agreement was reached before he sailed for Barbadoes in the fall of 1770. When he returned late in December — and the manner of his return is in no way clear — they renewed their proposals. Barry was receptive. The voyages of the Barbadoes had been lucrative. He had built up a small capital. If Dugan and Barden had such confidence in him, he would like to go into the venture with them, not just as a master, but as a part owner. And so, a shipmaster, a shopkeeper and a grocer formed a partner­ship to become operative when a suitable vessel was found.

Investment of their joint capital was delayed by the Falkland Islands war scare. If Great Britain and Spain were going to leap at each other's throats over a few sparsely inhabited islands in the southern Atlantic, it was no time to risk their money on the high seas. Barry rather relished a vacation, but an emergency arose which changed his plans. Another of his  p17 friends, John Gibbon, dropped in on John and Mary one cold evening in late January, 1771. Gibbon, a prosperous merchant, had an earnest request. Would Barry oblige him by making one voyage for him to St. Croix in his brigantine, the Patty and Polly? She was loaded and ready to sail and he had found no master to replace his brother James. From the fragmentary evidence available, it appears that James Gibbon had died on the last homeward voyage and the mate had brought the brigantine into port. With a rueful glance, no doubt, at his young wife, for both were contemplating a few months of undisturbed domestic bliss, Barry gave his consent.

Dugan and Barden, in view of the war scare and with assurances that the delay would be of short duration, offered no objections. Early in February the new master took command of the Patty and Polly. Her tonnage was exactly that of the Barbadoes and her dimensions were similar. The difference was a square-rigged brigantine as against the fore-and‑aft rig of his old schooner. Built in North Carolina four years before, the Patty and Polly was, in every way, a seaworthy craft.

Fully satisfied with the brigantine, Barry made preparations for an early departure. In this ambition he was disappointed. We find the reason in the columns of the Pennsylvania Gazette of February 14. "Our River is now so full of Ice," read a short paragraph, "that all Navigation is stopped for the present." Not until two weeks later was the channel opened. It was February 28 when the Patty and Polly was cast off from the wharf and headed down the ice‑flecked Delaware.

"A Journal of a voyage from Phila Towards St Croix," in Barry's best style of penman­ship, began that day. In it is depicted clearly the tribulations sometimes encountered in getting a sailing craft out of Delaware bay. Three other outward-bound vessels ran part way down the river with him, but he left them at anchor at Reedy Island on March 1, and continued below to Whorekiln road, in the shelter of Cape Henlopen. Contrary winds compelled him to lay to. Then, according to the journal, it "common to blow fresh Easterly" — a statement easily understood if we appreciate the transition from "came on" to "come on" to "common." What this did to him, we will let Barry tell in his own words.

"at 4 in the Afternoon," he wrote, "parted our small bower  p18 Cable Ditto Lett go our Best Bower Anchor & payd out all the Cable to the Bitter End 10 a night the Wind Came to N W Sunday March 3d at 10 in the Morng [in] heaving up. Parted our Best Bower Cable was then Oblige to putt to Sea & lave boath anchors Behind us."

Favorable breezes wafted him along, once he had cleared the cape. The journal, aside from routine entries — weather, course, latitude by observation or by dead reckoning, longitude made and longitude in — yields but a few cogent remarks. On March 5, he saw a sloop standing to the westward, and, evidently as a result of communing with himself, reported that "I am agree we are in the Gulf Stream." Next day he spoke a brig "from Jamaco Bound to Meryland," and forty-eight hours afterwards spied another sloop in the westward.

"Hard Squals," as he termed them, struck the Patty and Polly at month on March 13, and she scudded along under bare poles for two days and two nights. Thereafter he was able to maintain a fair spread of canvas until the night of March 21, when a heavy gale forced him to lay to under close reefed topsails. With the storm increasing in violence, he wore ship at midnight and ran with the wind for four hours. By daybreak the blow was over and he resumed his course. The waters were familiar, the route virtually the same as the one he had negotiated in his old schooner. St. Croix, or Santa Cruz as it is now generally known, the largest of the Virgin Islands, lies about sixty-five miles southeast of Porto Rico. Hence, it is not nearly as distant from Philadelphia as is Barbadoes.

On March 23, at five o'clock in the morning, Barry picked up the land — Anguilla due west, St. Bartholomew to the southeast and St. Martin to the southwest — a triangle of islands which he kept to port as he nosed south of the treacherous Prickly Pear shoal, "prickelly Pare," he inscribed in the journal. By noon the heights of Mount Eagle loomed ahead and, later that day, he skirted the north shore to bring to in the open roadstead on the western coast long after dark.

For more than a month thereafter, John Barry kicked his heels in idleness at St. Croix. Presumably he replaced the anchors lost in Whorekiln road. Otherwise he had nothing to do but wait while the merchant to whom he was consigned took deliberate and leisurely steps in removing the brigantine's cargo  p19 and supplying a fresh one for the return voyage. Says the journal finally, "Sailed from the West End of St. Croix May 3d 1771 at 8 at Night." Barry took his course northward, slipped through the channel between the islands of St. Thomas and Culebra by dawn, and, at noon on May 4, the former island bore southeast by south seven leagues, "from which I took my Departure."

"All sails Sitt," and "Mod and Fair all these 24 Hours" were his principal journal entries for the ensuing ten or eleven days. As he neared the American coast, the weather became a little boisterous, necessitating close reefed topsails, and on May 15, hard squalls sent the men hurrying aloft to hand the mainsail and jib. Next day came the usual Gulf Stream entry with a variation.

From then on it was clear sailing until the night of May 18, when, in a thick haze and feeling sure he was close to the Delaware, he began soundings. The first, at eight o'clock in the evening, produced "no ground." Another, at midnight, was no more success­ful. The following morning brought results, and he recorded them: "At 8 A M sound 30 fathoms Dark Gray sand with some small Shells." Two days later, the Patty and Polly came up the river and Barry, accepting John Gibson's profuse thanks, relinquished his temporary command.

* * *

By May of 1771 it was generally known in the colonies that the differences with Spain had been adjusted and that the war clouds had blown over. Nothing now impeded the Barry-Dugan-Barden enterprise. Prospects for a success­ful venture were good. No longer was Philadelphia compelled to look almost exclusively to the British West Indies or the Mother Country for its trade. Through the years, and particularly as a result of the various non‑importation agreements which had followed the efforts to tax commodities coming in from Great Britain, the little city on the Delaware had begun to thrive as a manufacturing as well as a shipping center. As early as 1768, Thomas Gage, Commander-in‑Chief of his Majesty's forces in North America, had viewed with alarm "the great Increase of that  p20 City in Buildings, Mechanicks and Manufacturers," adding the prediction that, within a few years the inhabitants would "Supply themselves with Many Necessary Articles, which they now import from Great Britain." Eighteen months later, he had pointed out that the Philadelphia merchants had very large quantities of goods ready to export to all the other provinces, and, not long after John Barry began to look for a suitable vessel in the summer of 1771, the British general warned of manufacturing foundations laid there, "that must create Jealousy in an Englishman." Hence, the new partner­ship could look to profitable business in coastal trade, supplying the other colonies with goods of Philadelphia make.

Several months of search was rewarded, in August, by the acquisition of a most suitable schooner. What they paid for her is not on record. She had been the property of Andrew Millar, a Philadelphia merchant-skipper, for whom she had been built in that port in the fall and winter of 1768, and christened the Nancy. They reregistered her at the Custom House, on August 21, and called her the Industry. The new name seems to have had be no particular significance, unless it was to betoken the business diligence her new owners would employ. A square-sterned vessel of forty-five tons burden, she was somewhat smaller than the Barbadoes, but Barry knew she had good sailing qualities.

No time was lost in putting the Industry to work. One week after her registration, John kissed Mary farewell and went down to the "Worff" where she was loaded and waiting with a cargo for Thomas Pleasant, a Virginia merchant. Late in the afternoon of August 27, having first taken on a passenger named King, the schooner was cast off. In the master's cabin her new skipper and part owner commenced "A Journal of a Voyage from Philadelphia Toward James River for Virginia in the Good Schooner Industry." A little of the master's elation is indicated in that phrase, "the Good Schooner Industry."

Pleasant breezes wafted her down the river and out to sea. At midnight on August 29, Barry put the pilot ashore at Cape Henlopen, "got our Boat in & Steered away S E." His course paralleled the eastern shore of Delaware, Maryland and Virginia, and he noted the landmarks in his journal. Chincoteague Island was abreast to starboard at four o'clock the next afternoon.  p21 He entered it as "Chinckeytoge." Before noon the next day, he rounded Cape Charles and stood westward across the Chesapeake into Hampton roads. That afternoon, using the schooner's boat, "Mr King pasin" [passenger], landed at Newport News, and Barry pointed the Industry's bow up the James river. Toward dark he veered into Warwick bay, noting with some pride as he moored that it was "the first of our leting go Anchor since we left Phila." Proceeding farther up the river on September 1, he hove to, was rowed ashore, and set off for Williamsburgh.

Virginia's little capital was quiet and sedate. Shops were closed. The inhabitants, attired in their best, were sitting on porch and stoop and watched the tall young seaman as he strode past on the way to the Custom House. That building was shuttered and silent. Barry paused for a moment, perplexed, and then chuckled at his own stupidity. He had forgotten it was Sunday. Later in the day, back on the schooner, he smiled as he made his daily journal entry: "Went up to Williamsburg Could Do No businis."

To make up for lost time, he turned out at dawn on Monday and was off for the capital at six o'clock. He entered the Industry at the Custom House and was back on board and underway by noon. Progress up the river was slow, with light winds varying from southerly to westerly. Late Tuesday afternoon, he sailed past the great estate of Colonel William Byrd at Westover, and, next day, negotiating the torturous snake-like channel of Bermuda Hundred, dropped anchor that night abreast of Robert Pleasant's warehouses. On Thursday he ran a few miles farther up the James and, at noon, tied up at Thomas Pleasant's wharf. Half his cargo was discharged by dark, but rain interrupted the unloading for several days thereafter. Then came more delays with the result that it was early in October before the Industry began her return voyage. She docked at Philadelphia, after an un­event­ful passage, about October 21.

The "Good Schooner Industry" had sailed to Barry's liking in her Virginia voyage. Presumably her cargoes had yielded satisfactory profits outward and inward. At any rate, Dugan and Barden had another cargo arranged for her and another destination — New York. John and Mary were together but a few weeks, for, on the afternoon of November 4, 1771, Mr.  p22 Barry and his schooner sailed. This time it was no pleasure jaunt. Less than five hours away from the wharf, and abreast of Chester, a river shallop ran into the Industry and carried away her jib boom. It was a bad omen for the future.

At Reedy Island, on November 5, Barry put his hands to work repla­cing the boom, caulking the sides and battening down the hatches. He knew the uncertainties of winter sailing off the Jersey coast. Getting underway the next morning, and with a pleasant westerly breeze, the schooner proceeded down the channel. Then, to her master's disgust, the pilot ran her ashore on Cape May. The irate young skipper let loose a choice selection of nautical profanity at the unfortunate man. Luckily the Industry was gotten off easily and sustained no physical damage. Neither did the culprit, who was put ashore a half hour later, leaving behind him one memento of his inefficiency — a journal entry that proclaimed him a "Raskel of a pilott."

With intermittent light airs and calms, the schooner made slight headway through the subsequent night and morning. On the afternoon of November 7, however, a strong breeze sprang up from the southeast. Toward dark it swung to the eastward, blowing harder every minute. By midnight the seas were crashing across the little vessel, which staggered along under foresail only, her head now pointed south. She was shipping water at an alarming rate and her pump was manned constantly. Through the night and next day the storm increased in violence. The forepeak tie gave way on the afternoon of November 8 and the men handed the foresail. Thereafter, until the gale blew itself out twenty-four hours later, the Industry lay to under bare poles. By dead reckoning, on November 9, Barry located himself in latitude 39°1′ north, and longitude 73°1′ west — some fifty miles off the mouth of the Delaware. It took two days to beat back into sight of Cape May and three days more, with slight breezes stirring, to get into Sandy Hook. The exhausted master breathed a sigh of relief as he noted in his journal on November 14, "Got up to York this after noon Got in to the Worfe."

Tribulations continued when the Industry cleared for home sixteen days later. On the afternoon of December 1, with Sandy Hook north by east eighteen miles, the schooner ran into strong westerly gales. The weather was cold with "an Abundance of  p23 Snow." For three days Barry noted "hard Gales" or "Strong Gales," and, on the night of December 4, the wind split the mainsheet block and carried away the boom pennant. Another day and the hoops broke from the foresail. Twenty-four hours later away went the head of the forestaysail and the leech rope of the mainsail. By noon of December 7, the Industry had been carried westward to a point forty miles off the Maryland coast in the latitude of Sinepuxent. After that the winds swung to the right quarter. But it took three more days before Barry picked up the lighthouse on Cape Henlopen. He was in the bay on the morning of December 11, and at anchor off Philadelphia a day later. The month's voyage had been the toughest in his five years as a master.

* * *

Ice filled the Delaware during much of the frigid winter of 1771‑1772. Navigation was sadly obstructed after the middle of December. Few vessels entered the port and fewer still were cleared. But, on Tuesday, the last day of the old year, the river being comparatively free of floes, eight fearless skippers seized the opportunity and went down with the tide. The Pennsylvania Gazette remarked about it, on Thursday, January 2, 1772, with the comment that of the daring ones "we have heard nothing since; and Yesterday there was so much Ice, that the Navigation was again obstructed."

Among the eight who sailed on December 31 was John Barry in the Industry. The tireless young master was off this time on a voyage reminiscent of the days of the Patty and Polly. He was bound for the Island of Nevis, one of the Leeward group, with a cargo of iron and lumber. Why the coastal business had been abandoned we cannot say. We have only the fact that, just twenty days after he entered from New York, he cleared for a West India destination.

There is, however, Barry's own journal "of a voyage from Phila Toward Nevis"; a journal more complete than usual. It began on the afternoon of January 4, when "Cape Henlopen bore W N W Disc 10 or 12 Miles," and the weather was "Pleasant and clear," a very definite indication that the passage down the Delaware had been negotiated in safety despite the ice floes. From then on, until he passed below the latitude of Bermuda,  p24 it is evident from his entries that the north Atlantic gave him a taste of something different. It lashed him with fresh gales and high seas consistently. "Shipt much Watter," he noted on January 6; "a Short choping Sea," on the 7th; "Fresh Gales & squals," on the 8th, and "Fresh Gales & ahighº Sea," on the 9th. Similar remarks dot the pages for three more days, culminating on January 12 when the storm "carried away sundry small things." Thereafter, the skies smiled and, on January 19, at night, he "Came too Anchor in Nevis Roade."

Nigh two months were spent at Nevis, an island offering little in the way of entertainment. Perhaps, however, he crossed the narrow channel to St. Kitt's and enjoyed the hospitality of its capital city, Basseterre. There, it will be recalled, dwelt the merchant who, back in 1764, had spoken so highly of young John Barry, his messenger on a mission to Dominica. All we can be sure of is, that with a cargo of sugar and molasses he cleared Nevis road, on March 11, homeward bound. Reminiscent again of the Patty and Polly are the journal remarks anent the "Prickelly paire," which shoal he "got Trew" on the afternoon of March 13, and took his departure with the Island of Anguilla bearing southeast one‑half east, distant four or five leagues.

Shortly afterwards the weather again turned against him. By March 18, fresh gales stirred up a short sea and he began to ship water. On the 19th, he carried away a topsail sheet block, and, on the 20th, sprung the foresail yard. For six more days he battled the elements until, on March 26, entering the Gulf Stream, he welcomed the calm which greeted him. A brief respite of twenty-four hours and the wind again attacked with fury. Amid an accompaniment of moderate gales and thunder gusts on March 29, he spoke the ship "Onars, Capt Robert Bissel, from London Bound to Maraland." This fact he set down in the journal for subsequent edification of the Philadelphia editors. Several other sail had been sighted in previous days, but none of them came near enough to hail. Nor did several brigs seen on March 30 get within earshot. The editors would have to be satisfied with one bit of news only.

For that matter, Barry was more intent just then on his homing. He had the anchor on the bow and was in soundings. Just at dusk he picked up the coast off to the northwest and "Took  p25 it for Ingon River Land." That was his way of spelling Indian River, an inlet on the Atlantic coast of Delaware a few miles south of Cape Henlopen. A pilot came on board from the cape at dawn of March 31, and two days afterwards the Industry was discharging her cargo at Philadelphia.

* * *

By the spring of 1772, John Dugan and Stephen Barden had grown tired of their shipping venture. Primarily their interests were in retail trade. Barden found it far simpler to sell vegetables and fruits from the Jerseys than to become involved in the rigmarole of cockets, custom house regulations, import duties and laws of parliament. Dugan could revel in repri­cing rolls of cotton goods and osnaburgs, but a ship-chandler's invoice was a puzzle beyond his comprehension. When the repair bills for the two stormy passages — to New York and to Nevis — came in, the grocer and the shopkeeper saw their profits largely disappear in the cost of refitting. These worthy gentlemen were just not fitted for the roles of merchant princes and John Barry knew it as well as they did.

There were no recriminations. Friends they were and friends they would continue to be. Both Dugan and Barden understood the engagement could only terminate with the sale of the Industry and Barry explained that just then the Philadelphia market for vessels of her type was not at its best. He pointed out also that the spring and summer seasons generally provided fair sailing conditions and reminded them that he had been asked to take on a cargo of flour and wheat for Halifax.

Apparently an agreement was reached, providing for one, or possibly two short coastal voyages during the ensuing few months, with the understanding that the master should make every effort in the meantime to find a purchaser for the schooner. As a result, the cargo for the Nova Scotian harbor was loaded and the Industry cleared the port about May 10.

Of her voyage — the fourth under Barry — no journal has been preserved. We must rely on meagre Custom House records for her movements. The run to Halifax was accomplished in clear weather. While he lay there, discharging and taking in cargo, the young master heard of a Bermuda-built sloop whose owner was looking for a larger vessel. Some conversations between  p26 them gave Barry an idea and an option on the sloop for a period of sixty or ninety days. Before clearing for home he examined the vessel with care, and secured an inventory of her equipment. Southward bound he laid his plans. When the Industry came up the Delaware, in the latter part of June, he had his procedure well mapped out. No doubt that night, in their South Ward home, he explained it all to Mary. Not that he desired her advice, but rather to keep her informed. Through his life John Barry was always to reach his own decisions and, invariably, they were sound.

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