flying cloud memories - 1942
French Polynesia, The islands made famous by the mutiny on the Bounty and native women who weave tiara flowers into leis, stayed free of German occupation during World War II thanks to 5,000 American troops and one small French sailing ship. Bird of the Isles, converted from a phosphate hauler, did the job with two single machine guns, two double machine guns, 12 rifles and assorted grenades. And beaucoup bravoure.
The smallest warship in the French Navy was an unlikely warier – “small but cute,” states the official Navy log. The vessel’s mission was to look for warships that might threaten the Polynesian paradise. Bird of the Isles’ storybook voyage to protect Tahiti affirmed, like the children’s tale of the locomotive engine that could, this ship’s will to be the little ship that could and do the impossible. On January 23, 1942, Andre Praud, or Trinquette as the islanders often called the captain of Bird of the Isles, lay sleeping in his bungalow in Tahiti when the phone rang. It was the marine commander, and the captain’s presence was needed at the air base, Fare-Ute. A meeting was in progress in the officers’ mess when he arrived. Trinquette entered the small room to find the Tahitian colonial governor, the aviation colonel, an army general and the marine commander. The captain saw only anxious faces staring in his direction.
The governor spoke first: “I’ve just been advised by a special agent in Bora Bora that a German cruiser is heading toward Tahiti. Our duty is to defend our islands at all cost. We must prepare our defenses. The plan we have agreed upon is to stop all ships from entering the Port of Papeete.” A reasonable thought, the captain concluded. “And the way to accomplish this is to sink one of our ships in the narrow pass – the only way into the harbor. Captain, we have decided your ship will be the one to sink. It is the only practical way to stop the enemy cruiser.”
Trinquette was stunned. He stared at the faces of the officers seated in front of him and realized the decision had been made without his even having a chance to enter the discussion. He could not believe they were seriously planning to sin Bird of the Isles. The loyal captain quickly composed himself. “Governor, I am definitely opposed to the idea that we sink my ship in the Papeete pass just because we have some information that there may be, or possibly be, a German cruiser on the way. We do not know even where it is heading, for sure. This information may be of no real value – it is only presumption.” All eyes were focused on Capt. Praud as he continued his effort to save his ship. “We did not arm Bird of the Isles just to be deliberately sunk, and to obstruct our only pass, cutting all access with the outside world. And further, with a pass that is already mined, the German captain would be crazy to sail into such dangerous waters.” The decision was abruptly reversed and an alternate plan devised. Bird of the Isles would sail under the cover of darkness to the other islands, hide and try to ascertain where the German cruiser was.
There was one condition, however – the marine commander was to be included in the missions. Capt. Praud went right to work rounding up the crew. Upon arrival, all hands began an inspection of the vessel, including the engine, sails, supplies and ammunition. It was January 24, and night had fallen on the island. On the deck of Bird, the determined captain addressed his men: “Gentlemen, our mission is to sail to the other islands and look for a German cruiser reported to be heading towards Tahiti. It may be dangerous and my orders are to be followed without question and without delay.”His first order was that the ship’s armaments be kept covered “to protect the innocent look of a merchant ship.: The marine commander went below deck to his cabin, so as not to interfere with the orders.
Under cover of the moonless night, the “warship” sailed northwest for Raiatea from Tahiti. By one A.M. the island was visible, and by four A.M. the ship was entering the lagoon. The vessel was met by natives who were questioned at length. None had heard of or seen a German cruiser. The next stop on the mission would be Bora Bora – they sailed all night, arriving at 8:15 on a clear morning. As they entered Tipota Bay, the deck watch spotted an armed steamer at the far end of the bay. All hands were quickly and quietly called to deck. What concerned Capt. Praud was that regular morning buoys were hidden from view.
Suddenly those on deck saw a launch headed in the direction of the ship, and a voice called out, “Halt! No one is allowed in the lagoon.” But the little Bird’s courageous captain just raised the French flag. If there was to be fighting, then he thought, “Let the French colors fly high and proud.” As the launch moved closer to Bird, an American flag became visible. Being in French waters, Capt. Praude knew he did not have to have permission to sail into the lagoon. He had only righteous indignation that Americans would try to tell him otherwise, even if they were helping to protect his country. The proud captain maneuvered his ship, turning broadside, directly in the path of the launch.
Within a half hour of discussions, all was forgiven. The American commander of U.S.S. Sumner, Walter Trufr, was welcomed on board. Sumner reciprocated by honoring the captain and crew of the French ship with a return invitation. In the meeting that followed, Capt. Praud learned from Commander Trufr that the French government had provided authorization for the Americans to build a base in Bora Bora – a fact that was supported by the sighting of two tankers, U.S.S. Ramapo and U. S. S. Trenton.
Nothing was ever heard about the German cruiser again. Built in Nantes, France in 1935 as a cargo ship, the great “warship” L’O’iseau des Iles was a product of one of the most well-known shipbuilding enterprises in Europe, the Chantiers Dubigeon. In the 18th century, the city’s brisk trade with India, Africa and the West Indies gave rise to its legendary shipbuilding industry. Two centuries later the only remaining yard, Dubigeon Naval Shipyard, specializes in the construction of ocean-going vessels. The ship was designed to haul phosphate, a vital ingredient of fertilizer and a necessity in counties such as Japan where land is at a premium. Bird transported phosphate from mining operations in the South Pacific to Japan for Compagnie des Phosphate des L’Oceanie. Using local island labor, the company would extract the precious commodity from Makatea Island and haul it on Bird to Japanese customers. The French called the cutter-rigged vessel the “tree mast sailing ship” because of its wooden masts.
Phosphate mining activities were interrupted by the start of World War II and Bird became an official military vessel. After the war, the ship again performed its commercial mandate for a short time. But resistance by the island peoples was increasing to the devastating effects of mining and the low compensation, per pound, for the mineral extracted from their islands. In 1947, Bird of the Isles was sold to a Mexican company, Compania Couttolence, to cruise the cost of Mexico in the Gulf of Mexico delivering concrete. The owners changed the ship’s romantic name to S.V. Tuxtla. In the mid 1960’s, Tuxtla was put up for sale. Mike Burke acquired the vessel to become the third ship in his fleet at the time.
Prior to delivery, the ship (now renamed Flying Cloud) had its towering masts cut to stubs to allow passage under the bridges on the Miami River, where an extensive re-fit would begin. The work site was only minutes from Mike’s Star Island home and hid his office on Government cut. It was affordable and convenient at the time to keep the Bessel close by for the two yers or so it would take to convert the ship into a suitable home for vacationers on a Windjammer “barefoot cruise.”
This refit was a hands-on job by the founder of the first Caribbean sailing cruise line. But the indomitable captain could not do the job without the help of dozens of laborers. An advertisement was placed in the local paper for “young men to train for sailing.” The replies poured in and a few good men were selected. All were given the promise of being amongst the ship’s first crew to sail to the Caribbean when the job was finished. “They worked their heart out,” Mike remembers, and when it was time to go to sea many of the boys got seasick and decided not to continue. That sounded mean, but I kept my promise.”
In order to make the ship a safer vessel in bad weather, and to provide ease o handling by the crew, the design of Flying Cloud was changed from that of a schooner rig to Mike’s “split-rig” design for increased maneuverability. On a split-rig there are more sails but they are smaller and easier to handle. The crew can get the vessel balanced and under control quickly when weather hits using the mizzen and staysail.
Once the rigging of the ship was complete in the midst of the re-fit, Mike invited his family for a shake-down sail across the Gulf Stream. The weather turned ugly. “Plywood and dust was flying everywhere, it was some of the worst weather I had seen in a long time,” Mike said in describing the two-day cruise that proved the advantage of this split-rig design and seaworthiness of Cloud. “I am only sorry that my family got so seasick,” Mike lamented.
Prior to completing Flying Cloud in 1968, Mike decided to place a female figurehead on the ship – just to give his new girl her own identity. The solid mahogany, 300-pound goddess with a 68-40-60 figure was sculpted by Mike’s friend Dr. Arthur Snyder. Snyder “likes to do that kind of thing and obviously has an eye for the boldly curvaceous,” said one newspaper account.
With the re-fit finally finished, the masts stepped, and the figurehead in place, S.V. Flying Cloud was ready to take its place in the Windjammer fleet. “I was very proud, of course. She is a beautiful ship; no mortgage, no borrowing – I don’t believe in borrowing,” Capt. Mike said of his business philosophy, at that time, that brought Flying Cloud to fruition. She was now set, with 40 cabins and a crew of 25, to sail away with her share of the company’s ever-growing passenger list.
