Jack Hardcastle Painted Sailing, Steam Ships

As a boy, Jack Hardcastle and his chums had played in the shipyards, scampering up the masts of sailing ships under construction or undergoing repairs…

My own acquaintance with the late Jack Hardcastle is tenuous.

Having collected Canadian naval memorabilia since my father handed me his kit upon his retirement as a chief petty officer in the Royal Canadian Navy, when I was eight or nine years old, I later came upon a curious type of artwork that fitted my growing collection.

Perhaps you’ve seen them in antique stores: Small (about six inches across) replicas of life buoys that encircle a colourful oil painting of a ship. Most common are those depicting the CPR’s famous ‘Princess’ ships and, to a lesser extent, Canadian naval ships.

Ultimately I acquired a dozen of these brightly-hued wall-hangers and I’ve seen at least one of his paintings, of the Nanaimo Bastion.

So who was Jack Hardcastle?

Well, in 1972, his oil and watercolour paintings of ships of sail and steam were hanging in private collections around the world, had been used as greeting cards, on the covers of school textbooks and as souvenirs (such as the lifebuoys). In 1969 he received a special presentation from the City of Nanaimo “as acknowledgement for his contribution to the city in the way of artistic achievement” he was also a much sought-after public speaker on nautical subjects.

According to writer Wilhelmina Warwick, the accuracy depicted in his paintings came from the knowledge he’d gained from his “vast collection of things nautical and books nautical; he can trace and paint with exact detail any ship of any historical period. His store of nautical facts and pictures includes a complete collection of American nautical books and many engravings of ships from the Illustrated London News dating back to 1842…”

None of this should come as a surprise when you learn that Jack Hardcastle was literally a son of the sea, having been born in 1882 on his father’s ship, the brig Martha.

As a boy growing up in the seaport of Whitby, Eng., he and his chums had played in the shipyards, scampering up the masts of sailing ships under construction or undergoing repairs. However, instead of following in his father’s seaboots, as did his twin brother Charles, Jack was apprenticed as a clerk in the dry goods business in London to train for the day he’d handle the dockside duties of the family shipping business.

Even then he wanted to paint and he devoted most of his spare time to haunting the docks, sketching ships, and studying the works of the masters in the Tate Gallery.

So engrossed did he become in his artistic aspirations that his lack of application to his job led to his dismissal and left him in the big city with just his paints, some canvases and half a crown.

He was 24 years old and Mother, who wasn’t impressed, warned him that artists are “a poverty-stricken lot”. Nevertheless, she arranged a loan of 100 pounds for him at her bank then sent him off to make his way in the world–not to return until he’d increased that sum five-fold.

That was in 1906. In Manchester he saw a sign proclaiming Canada to be the land of opportunity. “After listening to the voice of the siren in the shape of the ticket agent,” he recalled in 1972, “I found myself across the Atlantic and working on this dear old farm in Quebec from 3 a.m. to 9 p.m. for $6 a month for the privilege of being taught the art of farming in this land of opportunity.”

Another sign, this one in Montreal and soliciting workers to harvest grain on Prairie farms, prompted him to invest $10 in a ticket to Moose Jaw, Sask., whence he followed the harvest to Winnipeg. He found steady work there and resumed painting until the First World War erupted in 1914. Then followed four years in the Grenadier Guards.

Besides his military gear and weapon Jack was also armed with a tiny paintbox that fitted inside a shirt pocket, and a notepad. Neither Kaiser Bill nor the “shot and shell screaming across the battlefield” could keep him from painting, he said with a chuckle long afterwards. The Kaiser didn’t stop him from getting married, either, in 1915, to Mabel Drown who was descended from four generations of renowned artists.

Shortly after war’s end, Jack Hardcastle found himself in Vancouver, en route to join his twin brother in Shanghai. As luck would have it, there was a delay with his army discharge pay and he and Mabel remained in B.C. where they began their family of four sons and two daughters.

Moving to Nanaimo in 1937, Jack worked at several jobs over the years, including time as a Customs officer, and he became well known as a painter and as an expert on most things nautical. His work with Customs brought him into contact with ships’ captains who commissioned him to paint their ships.

During the Depression he began painting what would become his hallmark, portraits of coastal liners on small life buoy-shaped plaques. He also mass-produced 5×7 watercolours for sale in the Maritime Museum of B.C. By the time of his 1972 interview he could hardly keep up with the work despite having turned down commissions with leading art galleries.

“My paintings have been my sole existence,” he said.

“They are the panacea for all the ills that flesh is heir to. The only sorrow that they have not been able to console for me was the loss of our air force son in the Second World War.”

Jack Hardcastle, whose works remain popular with collectors, never had an art lesson in his life, never was without his paint box and never stopped painting up until his death, aged 90, in August 1973.