Cutty Sark

Listen first. Gulls call over the Thames, and the river slaps gently against the embankment wall. Above you, a forest of rope and timber rises into the Greenwich sky. Three tall masts, rigging pulled tight, and a long black hull that seems to float on a sea of glass. This is the Cutty Sark. She is a ship that once raced across the world's oceans, and now she rests on dry land, only a short walk from the water she left behind.

She was built in 1869 at Dumbarton, on the River Clyde in Scotland. Her owner was a London shipowner named John Willis, and her designer was a young man called Hercules Linton. Willis wanted one thing above all — speed. He wanted a ship that could carry the new season's tea from China to London faster than anyone else. In those days the first cargo home earned the best price, and the whole city followed the race.

Now look up at her bow, at the carved figure leaning out over the plaza. That is Nannie, a witch from a poem by Robert Burns, the Scottish poet. In the poem, a farmer called Tam sees witches dancing at night. One of them, Nannie, wears only a short linen shirt — in old Scots, a cutty sark. Tam shouts in delight, and the witches chase him. Nannie grabs the tail of his horse and pulls it off. Look closely at her outstretched hand. She is often shown holding that tail.

Here is the first surprise. Her timing was terrible. In the same year she was launched, the Suez Canal opened in Egypt. Steamships could now take a short cut between Asia and Europe. Sailing ships could not use the canal easily, because the winds there were wrong for them. So the Cutty Sark entered the tea trade just as that trade began to slip away from sail. She was built for a race that was already ending.

She still had her moments. Her great rival was another clipper named Thermopylae. In 1872 the two ships left China close together and raced for London. Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, the Cutty Sark lost her rudder in heavy weather. Without a rudder, a ship cannot steer. The crew built a replacement at sea, working with whatever iron and timber they had on board. She reached London about a week behind her rival — but the crew's repair became one of the proud stories of her life.

When the tea trade faded, she found new work. She began carrying wool from Australia to Britain. This was where she truly showed her speed. Under a captain named Richard Woodget, she made some of the fastest passages of her day. The route took her round Cape Horn, at the southern tip of South America, where the winds and waves are among the roughest on Earth. A clipper needed strong wind to fly, and down there she found plenty of it.

Now step closer and look at the hull itself. Notice the golden, coppery colour along the lower part. That metal sheathing protected the timber from worms and from weed that would slow the ship down. And here is a detail many visitors miss. She is a composite ship. Her frame is made of iron, and her planking is made of wood. This mix gave her strength and lightness at the same time. Very few ships of this kind survive anywhere in the world.

Her story did not stay British. In the 1890s she was sold to a Portuguese company and given a new name, Ferreira. For more than twenty years she carried cargo under the Portuguese flag. Then, in the 1920s, a retired British sea captain named Wilfred Dowman bought her back. He brought her home to Cornwall and restored her rigging. Later she served as a training ship. Without his interest, she might simply have been broken up for scrap, like almost all her sisters.

After the Second World War, a group of supporters wanted to save her for the nation. In the 1950s she came here, to Greenwich, and settled into a purpose-built dry dock. She opened to the public later that decade. Today she is the last surviving tea clipper. Think about that for a moment. Hundreds of these fast sailing ships once crossed the oceans, and this is the only one of her kind that you can still stand beneath.

That brings us to the second surprise. In 2007, while the ship was closed for conservation, a fire broke out on board. Smoke rose over Greenwich, and many people feared the worst. But much of the original timber and many fittings had already been removed for the repair work. Because of this, a large part of the historic ship survived. The restoration continued, and the Cutty Sark reopened in 2012 with a dramatic new look.

That new look is the glass canopy around you. The ship was lifted a few metres above the floor of her dock. This means you can now walk right under her keel, the long spine along the bottom of the hull. It is a strange feeling — almost like standing on the seabed and looking up at a ship passing overhead. Some people love the design, and some people dislike it. Either way, it gives a view of her shape that sailors themselves never saw.

Inside, you can walk her decks. Below, in the dark holds, imagine thousands of chests of tea packed tightly from wall to wall. Up on the main deck, look at the wooden wheel, the coils of rope, and the small cabins. A crew of a few dozen men lived and worked here for months at a time. They climbed those masts in storms, often at night. The space feels small, and that is the point. This was a working ship, built for cargo first and comfort last.

Before you leave, look around at the setting. This ship sits at the heart of Maritime Greenwich, a World Heritage Site. Behind you are the grand buildings of the Old Royal Naval College, and up the hill is the Royal Observatory. Near the river you may spot a small round building with a domed roof. That is the entrance to a foot tunnel that runs under the Thames. Greenwich has looked out to sea for centuries, and this ship fits here naturally.

So take one last look up at her masts against the sky. Notice how the ropes run in long, careful lines, each one with a purpose. Listen again to the gulls and the river. The Cutty Sark will never sail again, but she still points towards the open water. As you walk away along the riverside, glance back once more. From a little distance, with the wind moving through her rigging, it is easy to imagine her still waiting for a fair breeze.