In describing the clipper ships from head to stern and their general construction and equipment, I have frequently used the expressions 'usually', 'typical', 'common to', 'often found' etc., which are somewhat indefinite. It is impossible to be precise on many points-the longer one investigates, the more one comes across some unusual variation.

  Similarly, in commenting on the differences between American and British types, there are obviously cases where the difference is not very pronounced. There are many methods of framing a wooden hull, for instance, apart from the main systems described, and some could be common to both countries. Shipyard personnel in America were constantly being replenished with men from Europe who would continue to use their traditional skills and methods in many small ways which an experienced eye could detect, but I have endeavoured to take a comprehensive view of the more usual and obvious differences, such as would occasion a seaman to say on sighting a ship in dock or afloat 'She's an American' or 'She's British built', even though at times he might have been deceived.

  Various mechanical appliances and fittings aboard a ship can be given a reasonably approximate date, based often on the date of the patent specification, but here again one cannot be precise in all cases. Some patented gear could be in existence for years before being generally accepted, and in other cases gear would be in use in some isolated instances before someone patented the idea.

  Communication was not as widespread as one might suppose, especially regarding shipyards in isolated communities. I have found a surprising instance of this since World War II where a specification called for a wind deflector bulwark on a ship's bridge similar in pattern to that on the Queen Mary in the 1930s. The general manager of an excellent small British shipyard, who studied the specification, declared he had never heard of, or seen, such a thing. Research workers on early Royal Navy shipbuilding methods will sometimes come across an Admiralty order commanding a certain innovation to be made in construction, but quite often the innovation had already been made unofficially by some builders, and the Admiralty was merely confirming a successful idea.

  Lloyd's in its early days did not issue a set of rules for construction, but instructed their surveyors to check the materials and workmanship against any known methods which were found from long experience to be bad. Gradually an accumulation of surveyors' reports enabled a reliable set of rules to be formulated, with strong emphasis on what should not be done, but this was a much slower process in the case ofiron shipbuilding as builders were constantly innovating and improving, and were impatient with Lloyd's for not granting approval quickly enough, as has been mentioned in earlier chapters. But this caution was justified, and the  resulting rules became universally accepted standards which retained enough flexibility to consider and approve sensible variations.

  Not all the more famous and admired ships were superior in workmanship, and some occasioned heavy repair bills to keep in operation. But when we look back to the era of the tea clippers, it is usually their physical appearance that arouses our interest and admiration, from photographs, prints, paintings or graphic descriptions. Exceptional speed and seaworthiness could be accomplished with less handsome and even ugly ships, arousing admiration of a different kind.

  A handful of designers have had their names handed down to posterity; men who were highly skilled professionally, often as independent surveyors, who would be called in by a shipyard or shipowner to design a specific ship. But for the most part the individual creators of such beauty are unknown, although their shipyards are remembered.

  Today much of what was wrought in these ships would be considered unnecessary and uneconomical, with our complete change in attitude toward life and the means of sustaining it. The ever,-increasing pace impels us towards goals which some would consider are not yet proved to be the right ones, and many values which were satisfying ends in themselves have been lost on the way. The intense pride with which a seaman would sign on with the ship of his choice, despite the discomforts he knew were inevitable, is seldom met today, although its basis is still felt. I have spoken to stewards and seasoned passengers who would forgo the benefits of superior accommodation in anew ship for the sake of joining an older ship with a more handsome profile, whose photograph they would show with pride to their friends. A ship has to justify its existence economically, of course, but this is not the whole story. It is in itself an important part of the grand spectacle oflife, showing itself to many people in strange lands at regular intervals, unlike the static structure of domestic architecture or civil engineering which has to be visited or sought out by possible admirers. The lower hull and bottom, the most intriguing and satisfying parts of a ship to the eye, are unfortunately only seen in drydock by those intimately connected with their operation. The subtle and sensuous sweeps. and bends which are also entirely functional defy those whose arguments would seem to blur the difference between beauty and ugliness.

  The delightful form of the hull of a tea clipper, gently twisting from a hollowed curve and flare at the bows to a slight inward inclination or tumblehome and then reversing the twist again into the grand sweep under the counter stern, all being moulded perfectly into the curves toward the keel, must surely rank as the most aesthetically perfect manmade shape. There is much to be learned about the purpose of life in looking back-as in our regard of the tea clipper .