USS Constitution: Maine Masts for Legendary Ship

 by Lloyd C. Irland
(This is the seventh article in a series by Lloyd C. Irland, originally published in the May issue of  Maine Woodlands). 

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        Most careful readers of Maine’s forest history know that the masts for the USS Constitution, “Old Ironsides,” came from the Maine woods.  Several individuals prominent in her career were also from Maine. Constitution is the world’s oldest commissioned warship still afloat; she now rests in drydock at Charlestown for a restoration, due to be completed in 2017. Here, briefly, is “the rest of the story”.

     Last month, we discussed the King’s Pines.  After the Treaty of Paris in 1783, granting American independence, the pines were the King’s no longer. Loggers harvesting pines were now trespassing on the property of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, or absentee proprietors. But the British were getting their masts in New Brunswick and Quebec. There was no local market for large masts – Congress had sold off the entire navy by 1785 to save money. This was soon to have consequences.

     In the early 1790s, American trade in the Mediterranean was growing, but regularly plundered by the Corsairs off the Barbary coasts of North Africa. Local rulers had long practiced piracy – the Vikings of the Mediterranean. The Americans were at a disadvantage, an ocean away and without a Navy. Understandably, the Brits were not inclined to assist. Early leaders urged we do what everyone else did – buy off the pirates. Humiliatingly, we even built ships for them – “tribute ships” – to buy safe passage for merchant shipping.

     New England merchants wanted a return on the investment made in freeing ourselves from England. Some had bought bonds sold by the colonial governments to fund ships and regiments.   More than a few had profited as privateers – officially authorized pirates. Every time the Corsairs made spectacular hauls, marine insurance rates rose to ruinous levels. Irksome tribute payments had to be re-negotiated with every local Bey, Dey, Bashaw or other two-bit princeling. The merchants wanted something done. How about a Navy?  

     But the new United States was in a financial bind. There was understandable pressure to begin paying down war debts. A bitter debate ensued. Wealthy Virginia planters opposed a Navy as an unnecessary expense.  Copious crocodile tears were wept for struggling, overtaxed Virginia yeoman farmers (does this have a familiar ring?) Others argued that if we allowed trade to be plundered, we’d get no respect, and endless extortion. Still others argued that a permanent military establishment would endanger our freedoms as well as our budget. Merchants, Congress and editorial writers debated the cost-effectiveness of paying tribute vs. building a navy. Finally, the nation would eventually need ships to enforce the constitutional ban on the slave trade, set for 1808. In 1794, Congress authorized construction of six frigates – the nucleus of a new Navy. 

     In the 1790s, the U.S. was a major shipbuilding power, but mostly brigs, sloops, and schooners – much smaller than the proposed frigates. Designing the new warships fell to Joshua Humphreys of Philadelphia.  He envisioned a ship to fill the gap between speedy 32- and 36-gun frigates, and the heavier two-deckers that carried up to 74 guns. To even the odds, he proposed 24-pound guns instead of the 18-pounders, and a main battery of 44 guns. With more and larger guns, she would be able to overpower most frigates with a single broadside. But the gun batteries added weight: 84 tons for the 24-pounders alone, and placed well above the waterline. Humphreys also specified heavy framing and planking. With such a small force, he reasoned, the Navy could ill afford to lose any ships.  

     At the same time, the new ship must out-sail larger two-deckers that could easily destroy her in a close engagement. Size and weight meant a very large sail area – more than an acre of canvas.  This in turn required large masts and spars. Other builders, and the experienced sea captains consulted, debated design issues earnestly. General Henry Knox, a Mainer and Washington’s Secretary of War – Knox County bears his name – was a landlubber, but in the end judged well.  Constitution, with Humphreys’ armaments, would be a “44,” a very stout one, and was launched at Boston on Oct. 21, 1797. As is typical today, all six frigates were over budget.

     Constitution needed a lower mainmast of 105 feet.  Her first commanders reported that, as design critics argued, she was indeed “overmasted.” In an 1801 retrofit, the main mast was shortened by four feet. Today, from keel to top mainmast “truck,” is 210 feet. On the waterline, she was 175 feet long.

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     A full mast contained three large sticks, the lower mast, the topmast, and the top gallant/royal.  Other spars were huge: The main yard was almost as long as the lower main mast. How large would the trees have to be? It had long been customary to join two sticks at the center to make yardarms. Counting only the masts and other spars (See chart), the design called for more than 900 lineal feet of large, straight, high-quality pine and spruce. And a stock of replacement spars and other timber was always on board. Pine proved well chosen – more than once the ship’s carpenters pried cannonballs out of masts that remained standing.

     Another Maine connection: In the 1803 operation against Tripoli, Constitution was Commodore Edward Preble’s flagship. He was born in Portland (then Falmouth) and is buried there. Some of his descendants still reside in Maine. Such were his contributions to the early Navy that six ships were named after him. 

     Constitution’s exploits are recounted in many textbooks. They remain a glowing beacon in our Navy’s founding traditions. After a period of active service, she remained in use as a non-combatant for nearly a century, and was extensively rebuilt several times. Later replacement masts used laminated Douglas-fir, a method still used to replace masts of small wooden boats, schooners and yachts in Maine.

     Here’s a thought experiment: Might it be possible to once again grow pines capable of bringing this mast business, however small, back to Maine?  People would drive long distances, I’d bet, just to see such trees. 

HistoricalStaff