Thames Spritsail Barges

Part 1

 The spritsail barge developed on the Thames from lightering barges. Originally there were no deep-sea docks in London and trade into the city had to be transferred from sea-going vessels into lighters to get up into the city centre. Because the Thames is a tidal river all the way through London, these barges could be unpowered other than a single steering “sweep” and  could drift in and outwith the tide. But adding a sail, and enough crew to control it, could be a trade advantage.

          By the early 1800’s barges designed specifically for sail were emerging. Hull shapes evolved away from the simple box, and the sail rig evolved to provide some weatherliness but also simplicity of handling, because crews. and their costs, were kept to a minimum. In the days before the railway and the motor car, a mainstay of the trade was hay from the fields around the estuary to feed the horses, and the inevitable result of the hay back to the fields to grow more. That was never going to pay really well.
          The spritsail was the result. The single long diagonal spar would set a huge area of mainsail, which would be furled by brailing lines, gathering the sail up against the mast instead of dropping it. Brailing could be done easily by one man instead of the two or three that would be needed to haul up a gaff spar and the weight of canvas attached on a similar size of conventional rig. Above the main could be set a large main topsail, especially useful in crowded anchorages and
light airs above the lower level turbulence. The topsail was also furled by brailing, having a very small, short gaff. Ahead of the mast there was a substantial foresail, set on a wooden or iron ‘horse’ across the deck so it was self-tacking. This was set on a heavyweight stay to the top of the mainmast, and at the bottom of that stay was a 6 sheave tackle that, in conjunction with the foredeck windlass, could be used to lower the mainmast to the deck and raise it again to “shoot” under bridges over the rivers. A bowsprit added two more foresails, one set to the mainmast head, and another to the head of the topmast. With the main topsail and the jib topsail down, the topmast could be lowered parallel to the mainmast and the barge, then referred to as “stumpy-rigged” was ready for bridges. In port, the bowsprit would be raised to the vertical to save on dock space. 
          The last sail was the mizzen, typically a very small sail set on a sprit with the mast aft of the helm, and the sail sheet to the aft end of the rudder. This provided very little in the way of power, being used mainly to assist in steering. Because the hull was flat bottomed, and the barge would regularly be beached at high tide to be loaded by cart at low tide. the rudder didn’t extend beneath the flat bottom. It could be very ineffective, and the little mizzen set to move with the rudder could help to blow the stern around. (As it happens, the pictures to go with this text all show a larger, gaff mizzen.)
          The other big distinctive feature on the Thames barge was the leeboards These were a Chinese invention, brought to Europe by the Dutch. The fin on the lee side of the barge would be lowered. extending three or more feet below the flat bottom, and it would provide resistance to sideways slip of the shallow hull, and therefore a respectable performance across the wind. Winches to raise and lower the leeboards were put just ahead of the helm so they could be operated by the helmsman while the other hand was attending the foot of the mainmast when tacking. Barges up to 80 feet in length were crewed with only two men and a dog.
          So by 1900, there were some two thousand of these barges trading around the Thames estuary and the east coast of England. They were astonishingly versatile, operable by a tiny crew, loading and unloading almost any cargo, whether at a dock, alongside other craft, or sitting flat on the mud at the side of a field. They could operate in very shallow waters. their crews loved to boast that if a gull wasn’t walking, they could keep sailing. Their masters were a breed apart, knowing the east coast waters like no-one before or since, handling their unique craft and their balky customers equally well.

          By the mid-1920’s over two centuries of development had influenced the design of these barges, and in the preceding 50 years had been accelerated by the institution of annual sailing barge matches, the oldest sailing races in the world after the America’s Cup. They could, and did. handle the conditions in the English Channel and the North Sea, voyaging from southern Scotland to Plymouth, from the Channel Islands to Hamburg. 
          One of these barges, Will Everard, was destined to have one of the most interesting and varied histories of all, one that still continues. Will Everard reached Southampton with a cargo of cement on the Sunday morning, 1st. September,1939 in time to hear the declaration of war broadcast by the BBC. From that day until peace came back in May 1945 the Will Everard made 147 coasting voyages, and carried a total of 38,345 tons of commodities such as grain, sugar beet, oil cake, fertilisers, sugar, coal, and cement. She used none of the nation’s precious oil fuel. She roamed the east and south coast of England from London north to Yarmouth and south to Southampton

Part 2

Will Everard‘s skipper throughout World War 2 was Captain J.A. Uglow, and he was awarded the M.B.E. for his wartime service, the only bargeman ever to be so honoured. He supplied the stories that are reproduced here.
           In May 1940, Will was two miles off Southwold, bound for Yarmouth. when a British destroyer dropped a pattern of depth charges only three hundred yards away, presumably to attack a German submarine. Whether the submarine was hurt, or even there, isn‘t known, but Will and all aboard her got a bad shaking. Later that same month, anchored near the North Goodwin light vessel, riding out an easterly storm, Captain Uglow saw two larger ships sunk by mines. A naval lieutenant came out in a launch to tell him he could proceed because he was in a dangerous spot!
          The following month, June 1940, was the month of the evacuation of the British Army from the beaches of Dunkirk, by an assembly of small craft gathered from all over eastern and southern England. Will wasn’t able to get unloaded in time to join the Dunkirk fleet, but her sister ship, Ethel Everard, had to be abandoned on the beach after taking heavy damage from aircraft. At the end of the month, still working, Will arrived with a cargo in Southampton, and for the next year was confined to local trading between the Isle of Wight, Southampton, and Poole. It didn’t stop the danger. In August Will was machine-gunned by enemy fighters two days in succession, while lying at Medina Cement Mills in the Medina river. A few weeks later, at Phoenix wharf, Southampton, she was in the middle of a major daylight raid on the Supermarine Aircraft factory. 153 bombs were dropped around her, on both sides of a 600 yard stretch of the river. The Will was lifted partly out of the water, and her hull was hogged as she slammed back down. The fore hold was filled with debris from surrounding buildings, the hatches blown over the side, and the skylight blown out. A very narrow escape.
          At the end of July, 1941, Will was towed through the Pas de Calais as part of a convoy because of the danger from the German guns on the French coast. The convoy came through unscathed and Will resumed her role in the east coast trade from London north. The next action she was involved in was in November, when she was sailing in company with the barge Britisher. also of Everard’s. The Britisher was totally destroyed by a magnetic mine about five hundred yards away from Will, both Skipper and mate were lost.
          During a voyage in the winter of 1942, bound for Norwich, Captain Uglow tried to sneak a few miles in fog and darkness, despite the fact that barges were forbidden to be under way after dark. They were about one and a half miles off Harwich when they heard the sound of torpedo boat engines. They anchored to avoid detection and heard one torpedo boat circling around them for about ten minutes, then gunfire from light guns at Harwich, continued later at sea. They assumed it had been some sort of exercise, but the following day found out that what they heard was an enemy e-boat raid on Harwich, with another the same night farther north, on Lowestoft.
          The following spring, March 1942, Will was attacked by a Focke Wulf 190, that peppered her mainsail with machine gun fire, fortunately none of the crew was hurt. From then to the war’s end, in Captain Uglow’s words, “there was nothing particularly exciting apart from the raids, “doodle-bugs” and V2 rockets generally experienced by everyone living in Britain’s south east. 
          After the war, Will continued in service, being one of the very last sailing barges to trade under sail alone. She was finally retrofitted with an engine in 1952, and passed from the Trade into the hands of the P & 0 shipping line. They converted her hold into a Directors’ dining room, keeping her moored right by their Head Office in London, and sailing occasionally for the pleasure of the company and its guests. That era passed, as all eras do, and Will today still lives in the Port of London, being chartered for parties and events, and still sailing on special occasions. Google “Sailing barge Will”, you‘ll find her.
          For me, Will Everard and her war record are a potent symbol of all the courage of ordinary people, who simply “carry on’ their relatively mundane, routine jobs, through difficult times and circumstances. We take for granted the result, which is civilization continued.