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FIRST LADY OF THE SEAS, by Jim McBeth

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In her flowing frocks, Betsy Miller glided along the streets of North Ayrshire’s coastal towns like a galleon in full sail. A proud and handsome woman, she admitted to only one somewhat irrational fear – a horror of being found dead on the foreshore at Irvine, dressed in anything but her finest attire.

She felt the people of Irvine, so near yet so far from her birthplace in Saltcoats, were a nosy and nasty bunch of ‘biddies’ who would sneer at her memory if she was claimed by the sea and washed up while not wearing her best dimity cap and prettiest dress.

^{Yet nobody would dare describe Miss Elizabeth ‘Betsy’ Miller as an ordinary 19 th} century lady, confined to the drawing room and given the vapours when confronted by little problems.

For she led a life even more remarkable than that of fictitious female seafarers such as Elizabeth Swann, played by Keira Knightley in the Pirates of the Caribbean films.

For most of Betsy Miller’s life, the woman once renowned worldwide as the ‘captain in crinoline’ stool on the deck of a storm-lashed converted French brigantine as the world’s first and only female ship’s master.

Even today, 144 years after her death at the age of 72, the little-known Scot retains the unique distinction of being the only woman ever registered as the captain of a merchant vessel on the Lloyd British Registry of Tonnage.

Raging seas, the isolation of command and the uniqueness of her position in a man’s world were incapable of fazing the remarkable Betsy.  Apparently, only the people of Irvine could achieve that.

Born in 1792, she is less well-known in her homeland than she is abroad. But now, two of Scotland’s leading artists have combined to offer their accolade to the remarkable and unsung heroine who took over her father’s ship and captained it for 20 years.

The composer, Ed Walker, famed for his Arran Suite has collaborated with poet Linda Harnett to create a CD in tribute to Betsy.

Walker, who travels the world as a musical examiner in various classical instruments, was born and bred in Saltcoats.  He says: “I grew up with Betsy – or, more accurately, being regaled by stories about her from my grandfather, Jack.

‘For years I just assumed that everyone in the world knew who she was. But it became apparent to me how few people, even in her home town, were aware of her and what she achieved.

I set about writing a musical piece in honour of this extraordinary woman. Coincidentally, Linda had become captivated by the story – and, when she learned of what I was doing, she asked if she could be part of it. 

‘Naturally, I jumped at the chance to work with her, and her words are brilliant. We are hoping the joint project can restore Betsy to her rightful place in history.

Betsy was the oldest of eight children born to Mary Garrett and Captain William Miller, a ships master and wood merchant from Ardrossan, Ayrshire. In the year Betsy was born in Saltcoats, Captain Miller had salvaged a French brigantine and transformed it into a ‘coaler’ which he named the Clytus.

Betsy, an ‘angelic girl’, sailed with her father whenever she could, telling him she would one day be a captain. Her father indulged the child, knowing such a notion to be unthinkable. 

The girl grew into a personable and pretty young woman and entered the family business by a more acceptable route – as her father’s office manager and shipping agent.

Betsy’s brothers and sisters – Hugh, William, John, Mary, Hannah, Margaret and Mary – were all involved in the company’s main business of transporting coal to Ireland and returning with cargoes of limestone.

But it would be the death of Hugh, the oldest son, which would be a catalyst in Betsy’s life. The young man who drowned in an accident in Ardrossan harbour would inevitably have inherited the role of captain of the Clytus from his father.

His death, in 1827, changed Betsy’s life overnight. She left the office and assumed her late brother’s role as a ‘seaman’ on board the vessel.

Her father was not a well man and, within a few years his growing ill-health combined to reduce his capability to go to sea and burdened the company with what in those days was an enormous debt of £700. 

When Captain Miller eventually became a helpless invalid and was forced to retire, the redoubtable Betsy decided she was the one to take over as master.

Joan Biggar, the author and Ayrshire historian, says: “She was urged to engage a male captain but Betsy insisted that nobody could possibly to the job better than she – and how right she turned out to be.

^{'We are apt to think of 19th  century women as birds in gilded cages or overworked and exploited drudges, but some crinoline ladies were liberated,  even by today's standards, and none more so than Betsy. She competed successfully in what was, and still is, the man's world of shipping,  conveying cargoes of coal and limestone.}

She achieved the distinction of being the only woman before – or since – to be entered in Lloyds Register as captain of a merchant vessel.’ At the time, Saltcoats was a thriving port, the harbour crammed with sailing ships from around the world. The uniqueness of Betsy’s position carried her fame internationally.

In the U.S. scholars held her up as paragon of equality, long before the suffrage movement. She also earned herself the reputation of being the most skilled and fearless skipper on the Irish Sea.

Joan Biggar adds: ‘Far from being the butt of jokes because she was a woman, Betsy was regarded with the utmost respect. And for good reason!

‘In those days, it was a custom to place lighted candles on the window sills of houses overlooking the sea. This was not for the romantic notion of guiding wandering sailors home – its purpose was practical, a way of identifying the direction of the ‘carrying wind’ and its strength.

‘If the wind from the sea was strong enough to blow out the candle, the ‘carry’ was in the wrong direction for any sailing ship heading for the coast of Ireland. In such cases, most local captains retired to their favourite taverns and drank until the weather suited them better. Not Betsy!  She boasted: “I don’t wait for the carry!”

‘While the most cautious masters lingered in Saltcoats, waiting for the wind to change, they were losing trade to the sturdy Clytus, a ship that had been made from scrap wood with a woman at the helm. 

‘Nowadays, we routinely accept and expect women to be strong and capable. In those days, she was a pioneer, an amazing woman with a remarkable story.

It was a story that captivated Linda Harnett. The Glasgow poet, who spent childhood holidays in Saltcoats and Ardrossan, says: ‘Sometimes we stumble on a path that retraces steps we took many years ago.

‘I should have known about Betsy Miller, should have been able to read of her achievements in my childhood history books, but I didn’t. There was no mention of this admirable woman, who was apparently born long before her time.

‘What an inspiration she would have been, this genteel woman who flew in the face of the convention of a male-orientated world, almost 200 years ago. 

‘The story of Betsy Miller remains a mystery to many. Through Ed’s music, I stumbled on a path that took me back to my childhood and I asked him if I could be involved. Betsy was famed in her time, her name known in Scotland, Ireland, the West Indies and America. Our quest is to try to get her the recognition she so richly deserves.’

For all Betsy’s capabilities, she never lost sight of being a woman. Joan Biggar says: ‘She never lost her femininity. Despite her love of challenge and adventure and her ability to handle her ship and its crew in all weathers, she was no grog-swilling, tobacco-chewing

battleaxe.

‘Although she never married or had children, Betsy is described as being of medium height with a ‘sonsie’ face and a well-favoured appearance.

‘In character and personality, she was hardy, with a grand sense of humour, according to her admiring crew. When weather and work were dirty, she was never slow to order an extra noggin of grog all round.

‘Keeping up appearances on a coaling brig couldn’t have been easy but Betsy’s dimity caps were always crisp and snowy white.

When she went ashore, she did it in style, in her best gown, wearing a cashmere shawl and a bonnet with flowers. It was part of Betsy’s magic that she always looked as though she had stepped out of a bandbox.

‘She prided herself on being correctly dressed for every occasion and, bizarrely, she never sailed without a shroud in her trunk – just in case! Betsy apparently had a fear that if the sea took her, she would be washed ashore at Irvine.

‘On one occasion, when the ship ran into severe weather off the coast, Betsy told the crew. ”Lads, I’ll gang below and put on a clean sark, for I wid like to be flung up on sands kin’ of decent. Irvine folks are nasty biddies.”

‘Of course, Betsy would survive to retire from the sea, pay off her father’s debts and set her family up in relative comfort.’ She also practiced what she preached by opening the door to other women. Her ship differed from other vessels in the coal trade by having a poop deck with a cabin, where Betsy slept with her First Mate.

Joan Biggar explains: “The relationship didn’t raise an eyebrow because the first mate was her sister, Hannah!”

It seems however, that Hannah was not in the same class as a sailor. When Betsy retired, the hapless Hannah took command of the Clytus but, in a letter to her sister Mary she expressed consternation.

Writing from Carlinford Lough, at 11p.m. on  October 26,  1871, Hannah confided: “My Dear Mary, I am indeed thankful that I am again in a place of safety, for no one but God knows what I suffer from anxiety at sea in a long stormy night. And this night I am afraid of taking that pain that comes so severely on me.

‘I trust, if it is God’s will, we may soon get to Dublin, or we have been much put about since we left. Trusting this will find you in your usual, I am, my dear Mary, your poor tossed sister, Hannah Miller.’

Joan Biggar adds: Perhaps we should regard Hannah as a heroine because she doesn’t seem to have taken to the sea as well as her older sister.

‘It’s good to report that, in spite of all her fears, Hannah lived for another 20 years, dying in her bed on dry land in 1890, the last survivor of the Miller family.

‘The seemingly invincible Clytus was sold and continued to trade between Scotland and Ireland until 1900. But, after Betsy’s death, the ship was never quite the same again.’

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Music ~ ‘Did Betsy Dream?’, Composed/Performed by Ed Walker