I'm sorry, but I have to disagree strongly with the last post - or at least with part of it.
The maritime museum and ship preservatin profession long ago established that floating a ship - especially a wood or composite-built one - in water is, from the standpoint of preservation, just about the worst thing that can be done with it. Water is, by definition, not capable of supporting the structure of a wood ship's hull indefinitely. Historic wood ships (e.g., the Victory, Constitution, and Constellation) have been found to hog (sag at the ends) severely over the years. In order to restore them after they reach that state, the conservators have to decide between taking them out of the water (like the Victory) or subjecting them to extremely radical preservation methods that entail replacing a great deal of the original fabric (like the Constitution and Constellation). Water also introduces its own set of seriously damaging effects, accelerating such things as wood rot and rust. Even "modern" steel ships aren't immune to such tendencies. The U.S.S. North Carolina is about to undergo a hugely expensive refit at Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock to overcome the leakage problems she's developed from sitting motionless in the Cape Fear River for so many years.
The Cutty Sark, until quite recently, withstood the ravages of time remarkably well. When she was taken out of the water and put into her current drydock, her keel was found to have hogged only a few inches - a tribute to the intrinsic strength of composite construction. In the past twenty years or so, however, rain water and simple old age introduced serious problems of rust and rot. The people responsible for her restoration took into consideration a number of possible solutions - including a "complete" restoration that would send her to sea again. They rejected that idea fairly early on, as I understand it - and most, if not all, musem and conservation professionals would agree that they were right. On the basis of what I've seen on the web and in the press, I'm convinced that these people know precisely what they're doing, and that the new facility for exhibiting the ship to the public will, bearing in mind the inevitable financial constraints, be consistent with the most current thinking and ethics of the artifact preservation professions.
There are several other strong arguments against sending historic ships to sea. The basic ethic of cultural resource conservation requires the utmost respect for the genuine, historic fabric of the artifact. There's simply no way that a hundred-year-old ship can be made seaworthy without sacrificing a great deal of that fabric. Just making her strong enough to withstand the stresses of wind and weather probably would require replacement of much of the Cutty Sark's structure. Equally important, the legal authorities would demand lots of compromises with authenticity. (Do we really want a ship like that sailing around with modern radio antennas, radar screens, modern life-saving apparatus, watertight compartmentation, and all the other features that would make the modern governmental authorities - not to mention the insurance company executives - happy?) Unfortunately the Cutty Sark has already deteriorated to the point where much of her original structure is going to have to be replaced anyway. To make her seaworthy would entail virtually destroying her and building a new ship. To do that would, according to the ethics of the profession, be unconscionable.
Then there's the risk factor. I'm reminded of what happens all too frequently in the field of aircraft preservation. It seems like the aviation history magazines carry stories every few months of one more WWII-vintage aircraft that's crashed before, during, or after a flying appearance at an airshow. A particularly memorable episode happened not so many years ago when the RAF's "Vintage Pair," a Meteor and a 2-seat Vampire (if I remember right), collided in midair during a public display, destroying both airplanes and killing one of the three occupants. Yes, there's nothing like watching - and hearing - a Spitfire or a B-17 fly by. But whenever I read the latest issue of Flypast or Aeroplane Monthly I find myself wondering how many of those wonderful old machines will still be around for my great-grandchildren to see.
Some years back some enthusiasts built a fine replica of a Baltimore clipper called the Pride of Baltimore. They managed, somehow or other, to get around at least some of the normal U.S. Coast Guard safety regulations and build the ship in a reasonably authentic, early-nineteenth-century manner. She looked quite impressive - especially when she got caught in a sudden windburst in the Caribbean and, with her uncompartmented hull, sank in a most authentic manner in a few minutes. Several people drowned, also authentically. The replacement vessel, the Pride of Baltimore II, features all sorts of compromises, including effective compartmentation, in the name of safety. Do we really want either of those fates for the Cutty Sark?
I'm just as susceptible as anybody else to the sight of a great ship under sail, and I do indeed get a little wistful when I look at a ship like the Victory (or, for that matter, the North Carolina) and meditate on the fact that this noble vessel will never feel the sea again. I get a similar feeling when I go to an aviation museum and gaze upon the wonderful airplanes that will never fly again. But the first responsibility of a professional preservationist is not to my imagination or emotions, but to the integrity of the artifact.
The U.S.S. Constitution made a lot of American spines tingle a few years ago when, after her latest multi-million-dollar, multi-year restoration, she got under way and sailed under her own power for a few miles. I was just as impressed and moved by the photographs of that memorable occasion as anybody else was. Shortly after, however, Capt. Tyrone Martin (Ret.), who was her commanding officer during the 1970s and probably knows more about her than anybody else (his book, A Most Fortunate Ship, is generally regarded as the definitive work on the subject) publicly urged the Navy to quit sailing her, on the grounds that it was just too risky. (I believe he used the phrase, "The old lady's out of her wheelchair, but she's not ready for rollerblades.") I have to agree. Neither is the Cutty Sark - and she never will be.
When I was working as a museum curator I sometimes found myself in the middle of arguments over the issue of the building of full-size "replica" ships. People who work in "conventional" museums, or are involved in the preservation of genuine historic ships, tend to hold "the replicators" in contempt. The arguments are that (a) the "replica" ships generally make so many compromises that they're just caricatures of the real things, and (b) there's so little money available in the world of maritime preservation (and cultural resource management in general, for that matter) that the available funds ought to go into saving the real things rather than building fakes. Our descendants, it's argued, will always be able to build replicas, but if we don't save the real artifacts they'll be gone forever.
Nowadays (in part, maybe, because my salary no longer depends on the allocation of said money) I don't entirely agree with those people. In the years that I've been involved in the field I've seen a dramatic improvement in the general quality of ship replicas; the current "Jamestown ships," for instance, are light years ahead of their predecessors (which were built in the 1950s) in terms of accuracy. (Even the Susan Constant's diesel engine is effectively camouflaged.) It's also been established that replica ships can be invaluable sources of information. (The Greek trireme replica Olympias has caused a major revision of scholarship about ancient galley warfare.) And there is indeed nothing quite like the sight of a sailing vessel under sail. It's a sight our children and grandchildren ought to be able to see, and in that context a full-size replica is as good (well, almost) as the real thing.
If somebody can find the money to build a full-size replica of a clipper ship and sail it, without diverting money from the preservation of real ships or the operations of conventional maritime museums, I'll be a hundred percent supportive. But please leave the Cutty Sark in her drydock.