Memoir of a Norwegian Seafarer: At Sea: 1861-1900

By Terje Andersen

Norwegian Captain Terje Andersen sailed around the globe in the mid- to late-1800s, among the last generation to pilot wooden ships powered by the wind. Braving wars, deadly storms, scurvy, unscrupulous merchants and South American revolutionaries, Andersen and his crew carried saltpeter from Iquique, salt to Oslo, coal from Newcastle, wool to Liverpool, and much more -- part of an evolving global trade network in the early days of the Industrial Revolution. Andersen explored diverse cultures at a time when few people traveled the globe, recording his keen observations in places like the American South soon after the abolition of slavery, the tiny volcanic island where Napoleon was exiled, Haiti, South Africa, Indonesia and other far-flung locales. In his first-hand account, Andersen provides meticulous records of the daily life of a sailor; documents the geography and weather that shaped their fate; and reflects sometimes humorously, sometimes broodingly on his own existence as a Norwegian man of the sea.

This is a lightly edited English translation of Andersen's own writings, along with contextual material from Norwegian experts, of interest to anyone fascinated by maritime history, the legacy of shipping in Norway – "Europe's first seafaring nation" – or simply a thoughtful man's reflections on his life and the wide world around him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667880556

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© 2023 Lilleval House. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

ISBN 978-1-66788-054-9 eBook 978-1-66788-055-6

Translated to English from the original memoir written in Norwegian and published as En gammel Sjømands Erindringer.

Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1: Childhood

Chapter Two: Career Choice

Chapter Three: First Year at Sea (1861)

Chapter Four: Reflections on First Year

Chapter Five: Promotion to Jungmann (Young Man)

Chapter Six: Shipwrecked in the English Channel

Chapter Seven: Learning French in France

Chapter Eight: Becoming Captain at Age 23 (1870)

Chapter Nine: Franco-Prussian War

Chapter Ten: To America with Rail Ties (1871)

Chapter Eleven: Storm Damage

Chapter Twelve: Malaria

Chapter Thirteen: To South America (1874)

Chapter Fourteen: South America

Chapter Fifteen: Shipwrecked in England

Chapter Sixteen: How Shipping Changed (1861-1875)

Chapter Seventeen: New Orleans/ Sugar Plantation

Chapter Eighteen: Storms in the Baltic (1879)

Chapter Nineteen: Ireland

Chapter Twenty: France (1881)

Chapter Twenty-One: Denmark

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Caribbean

Chapter Twenty-Three: Chile (1887)

Chapter Twenty-Four: Atlantic Storms

Chapter Twenty-Five: Building Pharos / Steel Hull

Chapter Twenty-Six: Saltpeter from Chile

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Indonesia (1894)

Chapter Twenty-Eight: St. Helena

Chapter Twenty-Nine: South Africa

Chapter Thirty: Around the World

Chapter Thirty-One: Shanghai

Chapter Thirty-Two: Rangoon to Rio (1899)

Chapter Thirty-Three: New Rules and Regulations

Chapter Thirty-Four: Future of Norwegian Shipping

APPENDIX:

Biography of Terje Andersen

Ships Upon Which Terje Andersen Sailed

Selected Poems by Terje Andersen

Short History of Norwegian Shipping

The Origins of This Book

Acknowledgements

Introduction

This book tells the story of Captain Terje Andersen, 1846 to 1940, and chronicles in a personal and reflective way the rise and subsequent fall of a great maritime culture on the South Coast of Norway. To fully appreciate the story, we need to put Terje Andersen and his time into perspective.

Terje Andersen grew up in the small seaside village of Narestø, some 15 kilometers east of Arendal, a town which at that time was the wealthiest in Norway and had the country’s largest fleet of sailing ships. Narestø and the parish of Flosta were characterized by the bustling culture of sailing and seafaring, where going to sea at the age of 14 appeared the obvious choice for most young boys.

The village of Narestø is situated at the western tip of the Flosterøy island in an archipelago stretching from Arendal to Lyngør. At the top of the island, the 15th Century Flosta church sits with a grand view of the coastline and the ocean beyond. The church was built largely through gifts from seafarers and must have been an important meeting place during Terje Andersen’s time; in fact, he would become a churchwarden later in life.

The parish of Flosta was by nature and social relations split into three parts. The eastern island of Tverdalsøya, and in particular the hamlet of Bota, was largely intertwined with the islands to the east: Borøya, Sandøya, Askerøya and Lyngør in the neighboring parish of Dypvåg. Then there were the mainland communities of Vatnebu, Eikeland and Borås; just as focused on seafaring as the others. Finally the village of Narestø at the western end of Flosterøya was more connected to Arendal in the west.

The harbor at Arendal, 15 kilometers from Terje Andersen’s hometown of Narestø. Photograph is courtesy of the Kuben Museum in Arendal.

White sails and a wide horizon

The South Coast of Norway at this time represented something of a paradox: It was remote and sparsely populated, yet it was bordering the busiest sea lane of the 19th Century: the Skagerrak Strait and the rest of the seaway between the Baltic Sea and Western Europe.

From the hilltops, where the local pilots kept watch on approaching vessels, one could easily discern the white spots of sails passing on the horizon, vessels on their way from the Baltic laden with timber. White sails and the wide horizon offered a constant allure for the young.

During the autumn gales, the pilots would keep a constant lookout for ships in distress, driven by wind and current toward the lee shore and the treacherous coast. Almost every year there would be shipwrecks, but also damaged vessels seeking refuge behind the outer islands and sometimes staying over the winter in places like Narestø. And as autumn came, the locally-owned vessels would return for winter lay-up, while aspiring youngsters attended classes in navigation to qualify for the navigation certification and a mate’s position.

Of the three Scandinavian countries, Norway had the most obvious exposure to the sea with its long coastline stretching from Skagerrak — between southeastern Norway and Sweden -- up Norway’s western and northern coasts all the way to the Russian border.

The area around Oslo fjord and along the South Coast would prosper from the timber trade, as timber was brought down to the coast by the rivers and exported to Britain and the European Continent. This also generated activity and prosperity locally in Flosta, with farmers trading across Skagerrak to Denmark with small vessels. Although trade and shipping were the privilege of the town merchants, the rural population in the county of Nedenes had long enjoyed a royal privilege to trade with the farmers of Jutland, the Danish peninsula separating the North Atlantic and Baltic seas. In time, the seafaring spirit got the better of the rural dwellers, and they began trading further afield, shipping timber in larger vessels.

The archipelago stretching from Arendal towards Lyngør, comprising the Flosta and Dypvåg parishes, emerged during the 18th Century as one of the first dedicated shipping communities — seafaring with cargo as a business in itself, not just a means of trade. Strong connections were established in Britain, particularly with merchants in Faversham in Kent. It was not uncommon for a Norwegian captain to leave his son as a trainee with his merchant friend in Britain over the winter.

By the year 1806, in Dypvåg and Flosta the leading shipowners came together to establish the first mutual marine insurance institution in Norway, Oxefiordens Gjensidige Sjøassuraceforening, or the Oksefjord Mutual Sea Insurance Association.

In 1807, the Dual Monarchy of Denmark-Norway¹ found itself at war with Britain, as part of the Napoleonic Wars wherein England, Ireland and Russia were fighting French emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. The British Navy attacked Copenhagen and Danish and Norwegian ships, hoping to keep them out of the hands of Napoleon. Denmark-Norway had tried to remain neutral, but joined Bonaparte’s side after the attack. Sweden, meanwhile, was allied with the British. The parish of Flosta at the time had a fleet of 15 sailing ships mostly employed in the timber trade to Britain.

The conflict, known as the Gunboat War, ended with a peace settlement in Kiel in January 1814 that represented a defeat for the Danish, who ceded Norway to Sweden. In Norway, the Danish prince Christian Fredrik was elected king and the constitution of an independent nation was signed on May 17, 1814. Norwegians had to accept the Swedish king as sovereign, but retained their own constitution and were free to run their own country.

The first decade after the Napoleonic war found independent Norway in a precarious position. The export of timber now met with trade barriers in Britain, and the merchant fleet suffered. It was only through the union with Sweden that Norwegian vessels from 1827 on were permitted to carry timber from Swedish ports to Britain. But then the tide turned, and the shipping business gradually picked up, with British reform bills in the 1840s and particularly the repeal of the Navigation Act in 1850 paving the way for free trade and open seas.

The greatest adventure

In the village of Narestø our protagonist, Terje Andersen, would hardly have been aware of the profound change that happened in 1850 when he was a little boy of four. Yet his father and the wealthier shipowners in the village would certainly have heard the great news: Norwegian ships -– and in fact ships of every nationality -– would now be able to take cargos to British ports or even make voyages between the British colonies.

Sailing ships in the 1800’s were often built on harbors in small coastal towns. This ship, Jona, was built along the harbor in Hisøy. The photograph was provided by Hisøy Historielag to the Kuben Museum in Arendal.

The British free trade movement would soon inspire a change of policy in most of the Western world, coinciding with progress in education, public enlightenment, the gradual adoption of democracy and a technological revolution with steamships, railways and telegraphs opening the world in an entirely new manner. This would lead to a sharp rise in trade and commerce, what historians often refer to as The First Globalization, with world trade doubling by 1875.

The grand political shift would also affect far-off Norway. Free access to the shipping markets opened opportunities, and the scale of shipbuilding and new investment saw Norway emerge as the third largest maritime nation by 1875; after Great Britain and the USA, but ahead of Germany, France and Canada. This was almost entirely with a fleet of wooden sailing vessels, largely built, financed and manned locally. It was a true adventure, and Flosta and the village of Narestø were at its heart.

By 1850 there were some 1,000 inhabitants in the parish of Flosta, with eight sailing ships owned locally. Twenty-five years later the local fleet consisted of 46 ships employing 400 to 450 seafarers. Almost all men in the community relied on the maritime professions. The parish, like the district at large, saw the population grow by 70 percent by 1890.

Flosta was a thriving and busy community with a social structure of wealthy families of shipowners and captains, often doubling as small farmers, a few traders and craftsmen, and hardly a family without one or more husbands and sons away at sea. Places like Sundsvall, Cardiff, Pensacola and Buenos Aires were household names.

Ship in early stage of production in the small town of Grimstad, a few kilometers from Narestø. Photograph courtesy of the Kuben Museum.

But how could it all be possible? Capital for financing the ships? Shipbuilding skills? The entrepreneurship to take on repairs and careening?² Financial means were organized through partnerships; every vessel owned by a separate partnership often through family and kinship. The captain was required to have a share. Ownership was fragmented, but as long as shipping was profitable, putting your savings into a vessel seemed a sensible thing to do. The cost of a vessel had to be subscribed in full; generally in cash but occasionally in kind, such as delivery of timber or iron fittings.

Change and decline

By the mid-1880s, the sailing ships were under pressure from steamers. Gradually sailing was being relegated to the bulk trades, including coal, timber, phosphate and grain. Sailing ships were slow, and the crew had to toil with discharge and loading at each port. A steamship by contrast was estimated to be three times as efficient as a sailing ship.

By the 1890s, the time of the wooden sailing ship was up. Poor profit and rising maintenance costs led to high losses and frequent condemnation of ships. It seemed as if shipping was about to come to an end for Flosta.

But by the close of the decade, a new wave of acquisitions of secondhand iron sailing ships from abroad offered new opportunities. And in 1897, the Staubø shipowner John P. Pedersen succeeded in financing the first steamship for the area; more soon followed.

In fact, Flosta fared better than other maritime communities around Arendal and most of the Southern coast, escaping the sunset of the industry that befell them. In Flosta, as old vessels were sold or lost, iron and steel sailing vessels were acquired along with steamships. Flosta was bucking the trend; the parish succeeded where other Norwegian communities declined.

However, success in steam meant that the leading shipowners realized they needed a larger business network of shipbrokers, technical services, financing and communication. In February 1901, the two Pedersen companies of Staubø left for Oslo, the capital. True, their ships continued to be manned by local seafarers for many years, but a dynamic force was gone.

Still, a new generation of shipowners like the Lydersens of Sundet and the Salvesens of Staubø continued to have success, and others joined. By 1909 the fleet was larger than it had ever been. But then the First World War caused it all to disperse.

Flosta would remain a maritime community where the sea still offered employment for most. Bridges and better roads improved communication, and the establishment of Statronic, an electronics plant, in the late 1960s finally heralded a new era.

Terje Andersen was a sober observer of this trajectory. He came from a family that had seen nothing but seafarers. He first went to sea with the barque Albatros in the spring of 1861, and he always saw seafaring as the natural thing to do. Everyone went to sea and there were few alternatives. As a captain he moved into steel sailing ships in 1890, and he lived to see Narestø’s last sailing ship, the barque Ocean, sold in 1910.

In Andersen’s writings he reflected on many aspects of the seafarer’s profession, including the nuances of ships’ construction, the daily lives of sailors, the storms and weather they grappled with, the intricacies of global trade, and the responsibilities of captains managing an increasingly diverse and sometimes recalcitrant crew. Andersen’s writing also shows his keen sense of observation, his voracious curiosity and his dry humor, as he visited faraway lands and mulled the geography and geology; mused about the cultures and people he encountered; and placed it all in a larger context revealing his own sense of history and place in the world.

—Written by Dag Bakka jr., Bergen, Norway (2015)

---

1 A union of the two kingdoms that lasted officially from 1660 until 1814.

2 Careening was the practice of grounding a sailing vessel at high tide in order to carry out maintenance and repairs.

Map of Narestø and Flosta.

Flosta Church. Terje Andersen’s childhood home was very near the church.

Chapter 1: Childhood

Even though this memoir is about an ordinary man, and thus does not offer any particular interest to people in general, I thought that it might possibly be of interest in some way to those closest to me who have known me personally. And as such ordinary people do not normally create written records of their own lives with the experiences they have gained, there could possibly also be some outsiders who have an interest in this.

I was born on the Flostad farm in the parish of the same name in Nedenæs County on August 27, 1846 at four in the morning in a house near the church, which was situated on the same property where my sister-in-law Mathilde Terjesen’s house now stands.

My parents were Chief Officer and farmer Anders Evensen and Lene Marie, widow of Captain Terje Gregertsen, Flostad and daughter of Captain Ole Andersen, Narestø. My ancestors, as far as I understand, in particular up to the first half of the eighteenth century, were all people from Narestø and Flostad on my father’s side, while one of my mother’s grandfathers had moved from Kalvøsund.

Pastor Münster baptized me at Flostad Church on October 4 that same year, and my godparents were:

In baptism, I was given the name Terje [pronounced Ter Ye as in yes] after my mother’s first husband, and I long searched for the original meaning of the name until I finally came to the realization through confusions and Danicisms that it is the same as the old Norwegian, Thorgeir pronounced Thorjeir, composed of two words: Thor after the god Thor and Geir, an old Germanic spear, or Thor’s spear, and it is thus originally from genuine Norse roots.

I only have a few memories from that time in my earliest childhood when I first began to be more aware of my surroundings, including several strange ideas I made up about things I saw myself surrounded by, including things I heard about but didn’t see when I looked for them, such as the size of the world or the walls that necessarily created its boundaries. Similar thoughts are most likely the case for most children, as they first become aware of their surroundings.

At approximately 5½ to 6 years old, my mother began teaching me letters, and afterwards to spell and to read; the latter I did with great diligence, as I wanted to go to school with the big boys. I was able to read fluently by the time I went to school in the spring of 1853.

The long anticipated first day of school is deeply ingrained in my memory, as well as the joy and self-satisfaction I felt in the morning on the way there. I was completely unaware that before lunch everything would have a completely different outlook. The schoolteacher was an old, righteous man of honor, Halvar Thorbjørnsen, whom I later in life learned to appreciate, but he was also a man of the old school who could not bear the slightest noise or disruption during lessons, and punished immediately without any formalities. In the beginning, I sat very quietly, preoccupied with what I was supposed to do. But after a few hours had passed, I became bored, and felt an irresistible urge I had not felt in a long time. I began to look around me and noticed a girl sitting at the desk next to me making funny faces at someone else. This made me laugh uncontrollably, and unable to see, hear or think of anything else, I suddenly felt a slap on the ear that made me dizzy and as my laughter got caught in my throat, I made a very different sort of noise. For the rest of the time that morning, I sat as if in a kind of half daze without daring to lift my eyes from my book or desk. But when I came home for lunch, I did not want to return to school that day, at least not without causing my mother a good deal of difficulty trying to get me to go back.

Mischievous and naughty as I was, after a while I managed more and more to stifle the laughter when it threatened to get the better of me, and my dread of school started to dwindle. Yes, after a few years had gone by, it can definitely be said that my mother never had the slightest trouble getting me off to school, especially when I knew I could spend time with my friends after school, which was not always possible. One of the main reasons my dread of school disappeared was that I was quite good at learning most of the core curriculum subjects. A bit later, with the more difficult subjects such as Math, something began to change in me, and the more persistent I became until the problem was solved. My interest in the more challenging tasks was much greater than in the easier ones.

As my father was usually at sea from early spring to the end of fall, I cannot remember so much about him. Something I do remember, however, was watching him as he worked on the fences, the outhouses and other things around the farm. Now and then I tried to find an opportunity to help him, or to copy him, and I remember well how proud he was when I did something he thought was good. He was less proud, however, as he was more concerned than mother with my diligence in learning the lesson for the next day, something I sometimes forgot to do while out playing with my friends. I was happiest when he came home in the autumn, and I got permission to come aboard the ship, eat biscuits and be given something nice that he had bought for me. I felt just as important as my oldest friends.

The evening of the 20th of November, 1854, my father perished on a trip to town a short time after he came home from his last journey south. This is the most powerful memory I have up until then. I can still clearly remember when our relatives came and stood around mother to comfort her, while others expeditiously sent people out to look for him, and how Uncle Einersen, after my sister and I were finally taken to bed, stood silent and still as he bent over the bed and looked at us. True, I had little or no understanding of the loss we had suffered, but to see my mother’s misery and grief made a big impact on me, and I also tried to comfort her as best I could whenever we were alone the next day and the days after. One can probably imagine what sort of consolation that might be, however. As my father also had two other children from his first marriage, there was some exchanging and auctioning, such that, with the help of my mother’s brother, she ended up with the house and farm until further notice.

I cannot remember exactly when my love of reading first awoke, but it stayed with me my entire life. I am certain that there might have already been something there at the age of 10 to 11, because when I read something that interested me in particular, I just had to tell my friends about it. The larger and older ones just made fun of me and asked if I was thinking of becoming a bishop or something like that, so I was eventually cured of my habit of telling people, and kept my interest to myself. Grown-ups generally praised my love of reading without even taking an interest in what I read in particular. We had a good number of books in the house, which I read in my free time. It then occurred to me that it would be very easy to borrow books from relatives and friends, and fortunately there were a lot of useful and informative books from which to choose. I first read through Faye’s History of Norway, and then read the most interesting parts of the book over again; so often in fact that I can still recite parts of it by heart. This was followed by an old grammar book, which ended up being too dry and dull for me, but I read it for lack of anything better. None of these books were used for subjects at school.

The brief history of Norway turned out to be a great introduction to the order of events and kings when I later got hold of Munch’s translation of Snorre Sturlason’s Norwegian King Sagas. The latter became the work that consumed me with much interest. I stayed up until late at night with Olaf Tryggvason’s Saga to see the outcome of the Battle of Svolder, and then I was so overcome with sympathy for