STEAM IN THE BRITISH NAVY.
The British Navy—Marine Distances—Sunday at Sea—Icebergs and Tidal
Waves.
Great as have been the changes brought about by steam navigation
applied to commercial uses, the transformations of the navies of the
world have been even more remarkable. It seems almost incredible that
at the commencement of Her Majesty’s reign there were less than twenty
steamships in the British navy, and none of them over 1,000 tons
burthen. Of the 560 “sail” comprising the navy of 1836, ninety-five
were “ships of the line.” The largest of these were styled “first-rate
ships;” all of them wooden three-deckers, carrying 100 guns each, or
more. One of the most difficult problems the Admiralty of that time
had to solve was how to ensure a sufficient supply of oak timber for
ship-building purposes. Forty full-grown trees to an acre of ground was
accounted a good average; at that rate it required the growth of fifty
acres to produce enough timber to build one seventy-four-gun ship; and
as the oak required at least a hundred years to reach maturity, and
the average life of a ship was not much over twenty-five years, the
acreage required to produce the entire quantity was enormous. But the
prospect of an oak famine was speedily dispelled by the substitution of
iron and steel for wood in naval architecture.
[Illustration: “DUKE OF WELLINGTON” BATTLE-SHIP, 1850.]
Of the 689 vessels of all kinds constituting the British navy in 1897,
there are only about twenty-two wooden ones, and these are nearly all
used either as store ships or training ships, seldom, if ever, to leave
their anchorage. And so entirely has the paddle-wheel been superseded
by the screw-propeller, there are not left a dozen paddle-steamers in
the entire fleet, including the Queen’s yachts and a few light-draught
river boats. As already mentioned the compound engine was introduced
into the navy in 1863. The twin screw was first applied to the
_Penelope_ in 1868, and has since become universal in vessels of war,
the result of these improvements being a marvellous increase of power
and speed, with a great saving of fuel. Roughly speaking, a pound of
coal is to-day made to produce four or five times the amount of power
that it did in 1837.
Experiments had been made with steam power in the navy as early as
1841. In 1845 as many as nineteen sets of screw engines had been
ordered for the Admiralty, but it was not until some years later that
it came into general use. About 1851 the _Duke of Wellington_,[30] the
_Duke of Marlborough_, the _Prince of Wales_, etc., all full-rigged
ships, each armed with 131 “great guns,” were fitted with auxiliary
steam-engines of from 450 to 2,500 horse-power. The introduction of
iron armour-plating—first practised by the French towards the close of
the Crimean war—presaged the beginning of the end of “the wooden walls
of Old England,” and the disappearance forever of the beautiful white
wings that had spread themselves out over every sea.
[Illustration: TORPEDO DESTROYER “HORNET,” 1896.]
The _Warrior_, completed in 1861, was built entirely of iron, protected
at vital points by armour-plating four and a half inches in thickness,
which, at the time, was supposed to render her invulnerable. She was
the precursor of a class of enormous fighting machines, which, however
ungainly in appearance, have increased the sea-power of Britain to
an incalculable extent. But, alas, for the four and a half inches of
armour-plating! Developments in gunnery called for increased thickness
of protective armour. The rivalry betwixt gun and armour-plate, keenly
contested for years, has not yet been definitely settled; but when
ships’ guns are actually in use weighing 110 tons and over, capable
of throwing a shot of 1,800 lbs. with crushing effect a distance of
twelve miles, and, on the other hand, when ships are to be found
carrying twenty-four inches of protective iron and steel plating, it
seems as if the climax had been nearly reached. In the meantime the
insignificant-looking “torpedo destroyer” is coming to the front as one
of the most formidable instruments of marine warfare. Although only
about 200 feet long, with a displacement of perhaps 250 tons, they
have yet a motive power of 5,000 to 6,000 horse-power, and a speed of
from 25 to 35 knots an hour. Some of these destroyers are supposed to
be strong enough to deal a death-blow to a first-class battle-ship,
and all of them are swift enough to overhaul the fastest cruiser on
the ocean. The estimation in which they are held by the Admiralty is
apparent from the fact that already upwards of one hundred of them are
in commission, and many more are being built. Twenty-five destroyers,
it is said, can be built for the cost price of one battle-ship, and
in actual warfare there would be exposed the same number of lives in
fifteen destroyers as in one battle-ship.
Although no great naval battles have taken place to test the power
of the steam navy of Britain, it has been occasionally demonstrated
in the form of object lessons. The great Jubilee review of 1887 was
a magnificent spectacle, when there were assembled at Spithead 135
ships of war, fully armed and manned, and ready to assert Britain’s
sovereignty on the high seas. Two years later the exhibition was
repeated in the presence of admiring Royalty. In January, 1896, shortly
after President Cleveland’s threatening message to Congress, and while
strained relations with Germany had arisen out of complications in
South Africa, in an incredibly short space of time the famous “flying
squadron” was mobilized and made ready for sea and any emergency
that might transpire, without at all encroaching on the strength of
the ordinary Channel fleet. The recent naval review in connection
with Her Majesty’s Diamond Jubilee, however, surpassed any previous
display of the kind, not alone as a spectacular event, but as a telling
demonstration of sea-power, such as no other nation possesses. On this
occasion 166 British steamships of war were ranged in line extending to
thirty miles in length, and this without withdrawing a single ship from
a foreign station; the only regret expressed on this occasion being
that not one of the old “wooden walls” was there with towering masts
and billowy clouds of canvas to bring to mind the days and deeds of
yore, and to emphasize the remarkable changes introduced by steam.
The following table published by the London _Graphic_ exhibits in
convenient form the numerical strength of the British navy at the
beginning of 1897:
═══════════════════════╤═════╤══════════╤══════════╤════════╤══════
│ │ │ │Officers│
Classification. │ No. │ Tons. │ Horse- │ and │ Guns.
│ │ │ Power. │ Men. │
───────────────────────┼─────┼──────────┼──────────┼────────┼──────
Battleships, 1st class│ 29 │ 377,176 │ 355,000 │ 19,291 │ 1,301
" 2nd class│ 12 │ 114,030 │ 75,000 │ 5,672 │ 346
" 3rd class│ 11 │ 77,820 │ 57,600 │ 5,487 │ 365
" armoured │ 18 │ 136,960 │ 116,000 │ 10,386 │ 604
Coast Defence, │ │ │ │ │
Iron-clads │ 16 │ 61,410 │ 30,460 │ 3,211 │ 209
├─────┼──────────┼──────────┼────────┼──────
Total armored │ 86 │ 767,390 │ 634,060 │ 44,047 │ 2,825
Cruisers, 1st class │ 17 │ 157,950 │ 278,000 │ 10,514 │ 688
" 2nd class │ 57 │ 243,820 │ 461,100 │ 19,346 │ 1,359
" 3rd class │ 52 │ 110,685 │ 220,340 │ 10,994 │ 927
Gunboats, Catchers │ 33 │ 25,940 │ 113,300 │ 2,935 │ 203
" Coast Defence│ 42 │ 11,828 │ 5,860 │ 1,527 │ 106
Sloops │ 22 │ 23,305 │ 28,000 │ 2,764 │ 318
Gunboats, │ │ │ │ │
1st class (police) │ 20 │ 15,810 │ 23,400 │ 1,670 │ 202
Miscellaneous Vessels │ 24 │ 112,712 │ 202,300 │ 4,998 │ 318
Torpedo Boats │ │ │ │ │
and Destroyers │ 250 │ 25,000 │ 300,000 │ 5,860 │ 690
├─────┼──────────┼──────────┼────────┼──────
Grand Total │ 689 │1,494,440 │2,266,360 │104,855 │ 7,638
───────────────────────┴─────┴──────────┴──────────┴────────┴──────
First-class battle-ships are vessels of from 10,000 to 15,000 tons
displacement, with steam-engines of 10,000 to 12,000 horse-power and
attaining a speed of from seventeen to eighteen knots. To this belong
the _Magnificent_, the _Majestic_, the _Renown_, the _Benbow_, etc.
The first three carry each four 12-inch guns, twelve 6-inch, sixteen
12-pounders, twelve 3-pounders, eight machine guns, and five torpedo
tubes. The _Benbow_ carries two 16.25-inch guns, each weighing 110
tons, in addition to her armament of smaller pieces. Second-class
battle-ships, such as the _Edinburgh_ and _Colossus_, are under 10,000
tons, and with 5,500 horse-power develop a speed of about fourteen
knots. Third-class battle-ships are represented by the _Hero_ and
_Bellerophon_, vessels of 6,200 and 7,550 tons respectively.
First-class cruisers include such well-known ships as the _Blake_ and
the _Blenheim_, each about 9,000 tons with 20,000 horse-power and
twenty-two knots speed. The _Powerful_ and _Terrible_, also belonging
to this class, are among the finest ships in the navy, each 14,200
tons, 25,000 horse-power, twenty-two knots speed, and having crews of
894 men. Additions to the British navy are not made arbitrarily, but
with due regard to the enlarged and improved naval armaments of other
countries, and with the determination to keep well ahead of all foreign
rivals. Accordingly we find that an order was given by the Admiralty
in 1897 for the construction of four additional battle-ships and four
large cruisers of great speed, the former to be of the _Majestic_
type, but with heavier guns, more efficient armour and higher speed,
at the same time of slightly less draft, so that if necessary they can
pass through the Suez Canal. The cost of a first-class battle-ship,
including armament, is about £700,000 sterling or about $3,500,000.
A first-class cruiser of the ordinary type costs £450,000, but the
_Powerful_ and _Terrible_, when ready for sea, are said to have cost
£740,000 each. The latest type of torpedo destroyer costs £60,000.
The largest projectiles used in the service (as in the _Benbow_) are
16¼ inches diameter, weigh 1,820 lbs., and are fired with a charge of
960 lbs. of powder. The average annual expenditure for construction
and repairs is between four and five millions, but in 1896 it reached
£7,500,000 sterling.
[Illustration: THE “RENOWN,” FIRST-CLASS BATTLE-SHIP, 1895.
Flag-ship of Vice-Admiral Sir John A. Fisher, K. O. R., in Command of
the British North Atlantic Squadron, 1898.]
An interesting feature of the Diamond Jubilee review at Spithead, as on
former occasions, was the presence of representatives of the mercantile
marine in the garb of armed cruisers. By arrangements between the
Admiralty and the Cunard, the P. & O., the White Star, and the Canadian
Pacific Steamship companies, £48,620 were paid last year in the form
of subventions, the vessels so held at the disposal of the Government
being the _Campania_, _Lucania_, _Teutonic_, _Majestic_, _Himalaya_,
_Australia_, _Victoria_, _Arcadia_, _Empress of India_, _Empress of
Japan_, and _Empress of China_.
[Illustration: “TEUTONIC,” ARMED CRUISER, IN 1897.]
Many other mercantile steamers besides these are also at the disposal
of the Government, being subsidized, and the facilities for converting
them into armed cruisers at short notice are most complete, a reserve
stock of breech-loading and machine guns being kept in readiness
at convenient stations where the transformation can be effected in
a few hours. The armament of the _Teutonic_ when she appeared at
Her Majesty’s Diamond Jubilee review consisted of eight 4.7-inch
quick-firing guns, and eight Nordenfeldt guns. As an example of how
quickly a large auxiliary fleet might at any time be equipped, the case
of the _Teutonic_ is in point. Leaving New York on Monday, June 14th,
with her usual mails and passengers, she reached Liverpool on the 21st.
Between that and the 24th she discharged her cargo, was thoroughly
cleaned, took on her armour and full complement of naval officers and
men, and having on board a host of distinguished guests, was at her
appointed place in the review on Saturday, the 26th. Returning to
Liverpool, she laid aside her guns, and on the 30th sailed for New
York, as if nothing had happened. The _Campania_, which left New York
two days later than the _Teutonic_, also appeared at the review in
holiday dress, her only armament, however, on this occasion consisting
of a large detachment of members of the Houses of Lords and Commons,
among whom doubtless were many “great guns.”
MARINE DISTANCES.
A nautical mile, or “knot,” is about 6,082.66 feet; a statute, or
land mile, 5,280 feet; the knot is, therefore, equal to 1.1515 mile.
The circumference of the earth being divided geographically into 360
degrees, and each degree into 60 nautical miles, the circumference
measures 21,600 knots, equal to about 25,000 statute miles. Knots can
be readily reduced to statute miles by means of the following table:
───────┬──────┬──────┬──────┬──────┬──────┬───────┬───────┬────────
Knots │ 1 │ 2 │ 3 │ 4 │ 5 │ 10 │ 25 │ 100
│ │ │ │ │ │ │ │
Miles │ 1.151│ 2.303│ 3.454│ 4.606│ 5.757│ 11.515│ 28.787│ 115.148
───────┴──────┴──────┴──────┴──────┴──────┴───────┴───────┴────────
When the _Lucania_ averaged 22 knots, she was running at the rate of
25⅓ statute miles an hour; her longest day’s run (560 knots) was equal
to 644¾ miles, about the distance covered by an ordinary fast express
train on the Canadian Pacific Railway.
The old-fashioned ship’s “log” is a piece of wood in the form of a
quadrant, loaded with lead at the circumference, to which is attached
a line of 120 fathoms or more. Allowance being made for “stray line,”
the balance is divided into equal distances by knots and small bits
of coloured cloth. The distance between each knot is the same part of
a mile that 30 seconds is of an hour (the 120th); the length between
knots should thus be a trifle over 50 feet. The number of knots run out
in half a minute (as measured by the sand-glass) indicate the number of
nautical miles the ship is running per hour.
Even express steamships do not always sail between given points exactly
as the crow flies. Various reasons lead to the selection of different
routes, and even when following the same route, the actual distance run
varies a little on each voyage. The Cunard Line, as a precautionary
measure, has four sharply defined “tracks” across the Atlantic—two for
the westward and two for the eastward voyages—one pair being used in
summer and the other in winter, or the ice season.[31] The northern
route, used from July 15th to January 14th, is considerably shorter
than the southern route, which is followed from January 15th to July
14th. The distances by these routes are given by the company as follows:
Queenstown to Sandy Hook, by northern track 2,782 knots.
" " " " southern " 2,861 "
Sandy Hook to Queenstown, " northern " 2,809 "
" " " " southern " 2,896 "
Daunt’s Rock, Queenstown, being about 244 knots from Liverpool,
and Sandy Hook lightship 26 knots from New York, the distance from
Liverpool landing-stage to the dock in New York by the Cunard’s
northern track is about 3,052 knots, and by the southern track, 3,131
knots; from New York to Liverpool, 3,079 and 3,166 knots, respectively.
Captain W. H. Smith says that the shortest distance that can be made
between Liverpool and New York is 3,034 knots.
TABLE OF DISTANCES.[32]
Sandy Hook to Antwerp 3,336 knots.
" Bremen 3,484 "
" Copenhagen 3,800 "
" Genoa 4,060 "
" Gibraltar 3,200 "
" Glasgow, _via_ North of Ireland 2,941 "
" Hamburg 3,510 "
" Havre 3,094 "
" London 3,222 "
" Naples 4,140 "
" Southampton 3,100 "
" Queenstown 2,809 "
" Liverpool, _via_ northern route 3,088 "
Quebec to Montreal, by the river 160 miles.
" " by the Canadian Pacific Railroad 172 "
" Rimouski 180 "
" Belle Isle 747 "
" St. John’s, Newfoundland 896 "
" Moville, _via_ Belle Isle and North of Ireland 2,460 knots.
" Liverpool, " " " " 2,633 "
" " " Cape Race " " 2,801 "
" " " " and South " 2,826 "
" Glasgow " Belle Isle and North " 2,564 "
" " " Cape Race " " 2,732 "
" Queenstown, _via_ Belle Isle 2,473 "
Moville to Liverpool 190 "
Halifax to New York 538 "
" Quebec 680 "
" St. John’s, Newfoundland 520 "
" Liverpool, _via_ North of Ireland 2,450 "
" " " South " 2,475 "
" London 2,723 "
" Glasgow 2,381 "
" St. John, N. B. 277 "
" Portland, Me. 336 "
" Sable Island 169 "
" Boston, Mass 420 "
St. John’s, Newfoundland, to Galway, Ireland, which
is the shortest land-to-land voyage 1,655 "
Liverpool to St. John, N. B., _via_ North of Ireland 2,700 "
" Portland, Me., " " " 2,765 "
" Boston, Mass., " " " 2,807 "
" Queenstown 244 "
Montreal to Halifax, _via_ Intercolonial Railroad 845 miles.
" " " Canadian Pacific Railroad 756 "
" Boston, " Central Vermont Railroad 334 "
" Portland, Me., _via_ Grand Trunk Railroad 297 "
" New York, _via_ Central Vermont Railroad 403 "
" Toronto, " Grand Trunk Railroad 333 "
" " " Canadian Pacific Railroad 338 "
" " by water 376 "
" Winnipeg, Man., _via_ Canadian Pacific Railroad 1,424 "
" Vancouver, B.C., " " " " 2,906 "
Vancouver to Yokohama, Japan 4,283 knots.
" Shanghai, China 5,330 "
" Hong Kong " 5,936 "
" Honolulu, Hawaii 2,410 "
" Sydney, N. S. W. 6,824 "
Lech Ryan to Quebec, _via_ Belle Isle 2,513 "
" North Sydney, C. B. 2,161 "
" Halifax, N. S. 2,330 "
" St. John, N. B. 2,580 "
Milford Haven to Quebec, _via_ Belle Isle 2,587 "
" Halifax 2,353 "
" North Sydney, C. B. 2,186 "
SUNDAY AT SEA.
As far as circumstances permit, Sunday is observed with as much decorum
on shipboard as it is on shore; that is, on the British and American
lines. As for the continental steamers, the traveller may expect to
become acquainted with a continental Sabbath, which, in most cases,
means the ignoring of the day of rest altogether. On our Canadian
steamships, weather permitting, public worship is usually held in
the saloon, at 10.30 a. m. Sometimes there is an evening service as
well, but more frequently an impromptu service of song, much enjoyed
by the musical portion of the company, and that is frequently a large
proportion of the passengers—ladies especially. The order of service
is entirely at the discretion of the captain. In the absence of a
clergyman, the captain reads the morning service and the Scripture
lessons for the day from the Book of Common Prayer. If there is a
Protestant minister on board it is customary to invite him to take the
whole service; if there be more than one minister available, each of
them may be asked to take part in the service. On the New York liners,
as a rule, there is no sermonizing, no matter how many ministers may be
on board. The captain and purser read the morning service, or portions
of it; a couple of hymns are sung; a collection is taken up for the
benefit of the Seamen’s Home, or kindred object, and that is all. There
are, however, exceptions to this rule. When the captain is prevented by
his duties on deck from conducting the service, a clergyman, if there
be one among the passengers, is usually asked to assist. A deviation
from the rule is often made when a minister of outstanding celebrity
happens to be on board. Ministers like the late Dr. Norman Macleod,
or Dr. William M. Taylor, would invariably be asked to preach, no
matter what line they travelled by. The service-book of the Cunard
Company consists of selections from the Book of Common Prayer, with
the addition of a form of prayer prepared by the General Assembly of
the Church of Scotland, for the use of sailors and persons at sea. A
singularly beautiful prayer it is:
“Almighty God, who art the confidence of all the
ends of the earth, and of them that are afar off upon
the sea; under whose protection we are alike secure
in every place, and without whose providence we can
nowhere be in safety; look down in mercy on us, thine
unworthy servants, who are called to see thy wonders
on the deep, and to perform the duties of our vocation
in the great waters. Let thine everlasting arm be
underneath and round about us. Preserve us in all
dangers; support us in all trials: conduct us speedily
and safely on our voyage, and bring us in peace and
comfort to our desired haven.
“Be pleased to watch over the members of our families,
and all the beloved friends whom we have left behind.
Relieve our minds from all anxiety on their account
by the blessed persuasion that thou carest for them.
Above all, grant that our souls may be defended
from whatsoever evils or perils may encompass them;
and that, abiding steadfast in the faith, we may be
enabled so to pass through the waves and storms of this
uncertain world, that finally we may come to the land
of everlasting rest, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”
The service-book also contains the Psalms of David in prose, and a
collection of 107 hymns, including four of the Scotch paraphrases. The
hymn most frequently sung at sea is the one beginning with “Eternal
Father, strong to save,” and next to it, “O God, our help in ages
past.” Evangelistic services of a less stately kind than in the saloon
are often held in the afternoon in the second cabin or steerage, and
are usually much appreciated; while in the evening the deck hands will
join with groups of emigrants in singing Moody and Sankey hymns, such
as “Revive us Again,” “Rescue the Perishing,” “Whiter than Snow,” etc.
It is often remarkable to notice how familiar people of diverse creeds
and nationalities are with these hymns, and how heartily they unite in
singing them.
A favourite text with preachers on shipboard is Rev. xxi. 1: “And there
was no more sea.” The theme, associated, as it is, with so many fathoms
of profundity, has yielded to many forms of treatment. I remember that
a young minister, my room-mate, by the way, on his first voyage out
from Quebec, chose this for his text, and that he launched out, as well
he might, on the charms of the sea in poetical flights of fancy. But
the while we were sailing in smooth water. When outside the Straits
he laid his head on the pillow and underwent a change of environment,
recovering from which, after many days, he vowed that should he ever
preach from that text again, he would have something more to say
about it. I remember, too, that an elderly gentleman—a Presbyterian
of the Presbyterians—was asked by the captain to preach one Sunday
morning. He readily complied, taking it for granted that he was to
conduct the whole service. Imagine his chagrin when an Anglican brother
unexpectedly appeared on the scene and went through the whole of the
long service of the Church of England. With the utmost composure,
_Πρεσβύτερος_ simply ignored the beautiful liturgical service,
commenced _de novo_, and went through the whole service afresh, in
orthodox Presbyterian fashion, to the surprise of the congregation and
the discomfiture of the waiters, whose time for setting the lunch-table
was long past.
A distinctive and pleasing feature of these Sunday services at sea,
especially in the larger steamships, which often carry more passengers
than would fill an ordinary church, is the heartiness with which
the representatives of various religious denominations unite in the
services. The lines of demarcation that separate them when ashore seem
to be lost sight of at sea. Casual acquaintanceship here frequently
ripens into closer friendship; people begin to see eye to eye, and
soon the conviction grows stronger that the doctrinal points on which
all professing Christians are agreed are much more important than the
things about which they differ. It would do some narrow-minded souls a
world of good to spend a few Sundays at sea.
The office for the burial of the dead at sea is very solemn and
affecting. In the days of sailing ships, when voyages lasted so much
longer, deaths from natural causes at sea were more frequent than now.
But the order of service is the same. The body of the deceased person
might be sewed up in a hammock—indeed, it usually was—or the carpenter
may have made a rough coffin for it. In either case it was heavily
loaded with iron at the foot. A stout plank with one end resting on the
bulwark forms the bier on which is laid the corpse, covered with an
ensign. The captain, the chief engineer, the ship’s doctor and purser,
with a detachment of the crew, and a few of the passengers, make up the
funeral party. Portions of the Church of England’s beautiful service
for the burial of the dead are read: “I am the Resurrection and the
life.” ... “I know that my Redeemer liveth.” ... “We brought nothing
into this world and it is certain we can carry nothing out.” ... “Man
that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live,” etc. The
ship’s engines are then stopped for a few seconds while the service
proceeds—“We therefore commit his body to the deep, looking for the
resurrection of the body when the sea shall give up her dead.”
The ensign is removed. The inward end of the plank is raised, and
the mortal remains are plunged into the greatest of all cemeteries;
sometimes with scant ceremony, perhaps, but always impressing on the
mind of the spectator a deeply pathetic incident that will never be
forgotten.
“And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still.”
ICEBERGS AND TIDAL WAVES.
Icebergs and bewildering fogs, as has been already said, are a large
element of danger in the St. Lawrence route. The passengers who sailed
with me on the _Lake Superior_, from Montreal on July 1st, 1896,
will not soon forget the magnificent display of icebergs which they
witnessed on the Sunday following. From early morning until midnight,
for a distance of more than 250 miles, the ship’s course lay through an
uninterrupted succession of icebergs—a procession, it might be called,
on a grand scale of masses of ice in all manner of fantastic shapes
and of dazzling whiteness—travelling to their watery graves in the
great Gulf Stream of the south. Mountains of ice, some of them might
be called. On one of them a grisly bear was alleged to have been seen
sulkily moving to and fro, as if meditating how, when and where his
romantic voyage was to come to an end. The day was calm and cloudless—a
perfect day for such a marvellous exhibition. It might have been
otherwise, and how different may be imagined from reading what appeared
in the English papers a few weeks later—the account of a ship’s narrow
escape from destruction in this identical locality:
[Illustration: H. M. YACHT “VICTORIA AND ALBERT,” 1855.
2,470 tons; 2,980 h. p.: speed. 16.8 knots; armament, 2 six-pounders;
crew, 151 men.]
“STRUCK AN ICEBERG.—The SS. _Etolia_
on her voyage from Montreal to Bristol narrowly escaped
destruction from collision with an iceberg twenty-four
hours after leaving the eastern end of Belle Isle
straits. A dense fog had set in, the lookout was
doubled, and the engines slowed; presently the fog
lifted, but only to come down again thicker than
ever. In a very short time the lookout called out,
‘Ice ahead!’ The engines were promptly stopped, then
reversed at full speed. Meanwhile the towering monster
bears down on the ship and in a few seconds is on top
of it. It was a huge berg, rising high above the masts
of the steamer, which it struck with such a crash that
some three hundred tons of ice in huge pieces came down
on the forecastle. Fortunately most of it rebounded
into the sea, but some forty or fifty tons remained
on the ship’s deck. The ship trembled under the blow
from stem to stern; her bows were smashed in, but the
leakage was confined to the fore-peak. In this battered
condition the _Etolia_ lay without a movement of the
engines for thirty-six hours until the fog cleared,
when Captain Evans had the satisfaction of proceeding
on his course and bringing his passengers and crew
safely into Bristol harbour.”
A still more serious disaster was reported on August 25th of the same
year (1896):
“The captain of the steamer _Circassia_, of the Anchor
Line, had a story to tell, on her arrival at quarantine
early this morning, of picking up a captain and his
twenty-two men on the high seas from three open boats.
It was Captain Burnside and the entire crew of the
British tramp steamer _Moldavia_, bound from Cardiff
to Halifax with coal, who were rescued by the timely
approach of the _Circassia_. During the dense fog over
the sea on last Wednesday, the _Moldavia_ ran into a
huge iceberg and stove her bows so badly that she began
to fill rapidly. It was 5.30 o’clock in the afternoon.
As soon as a hasty examination showed that it would be
impossible to save his ship, Captain Burnside ordered
the lifeboats provisioned and cleared away, and as
soon as it could be done the steamer was abandoned and
shortly afterwards sank. The lifeboats kept together
and watched for a passing vessel, and thirty-five hours
later the _Circassia’s_ lights were seen approaching.
Blue lights were at once shown by the occupants of the
lifeboats, and the _Circassia_ altered her course.
When near enough, Captain Boothby, of the _Circassia_,
hailed the lifeboats and told the men that he would
pick up the boats and their occupants. Accordingly
the davits’ tackle were lowered, and as each life-boat
approached she was hooked on and raised bodily,
occupants and all, to the deck of the _Circassia_.”
The icebergs of the North Atlantic are natives of Greenland or other
Arctic regions where glaciers abound. They carry with them evidence
of their terrestrial birth in the rocks and debris with which they
are frequently ballasted. The glacier, slowly moving over the beds of
rivers and ravines, ultimately reaches the seaboard, to be gradually
undermined by the action of the waves, and, finally, to fall over into
deep water and be carried by winds and currents into the open ocean. In
their earlier stages icebergs are constantly being augmented in size by
storms of snow and rain, and by the freezing of the water washed over
them by the waves. They are of all sizes, from a mere hummock to vast
piles of ice half a mile in diameter, and showing an altitude above the
sea of two or three hundred feet, sometimes rising to a height of five
and even six hundred feet, and that is scarcely more than one-eighth
of the whole mass, for a comparatively small portion only of the bulk
projects above the surface, as may be plainly seen by dropping a
piece of ice in a tumbler full of water. In proof of this, it is by
no means uncommon to find icebergs of ordinary dimensions stranded in
the straits of Belle Isle in seventy or eighty fathoms of water. Being
frequently accompanied by fog—of which they may be the chief cause—they
are often met with unawares, though their nearer approach is usually
discovered by the effect which they produce on the air and the water
surrounding them, suggesting to the careful navigator the frequent
use of the thermometer to test the temperature of the water where ice
is likely to be encountered. They are seldom met with below the 40th
parallel.
Field-ice, covering a surface of many square miles, with a thickness of
from ten to twenty feet, is frequently fallen in with off the coasts of
Labrador and Newfoundland. Though less dangerous to navigation than the
iceberg, it is often a serious obstruction. Vessels that incautiously
run into a pack of ice of this kind, or have drifted into it, have
often found themselves in a _maze_, and have been detained for weeks at
a time, and not without some risk to their safety in heavy weather.
* * * * *
TIDAL WAVES.—Notwithstanding elaborate treatment of the subject by
hydrographers, stories about ocean tidal waves are most frequently
relegated by landsmen into the same category with tales of the great
sea-serpent. Sailors, however, have no manner of doubt as to their
existence and their force. During violent storms it has been noticed
that ocean waves of more than average height succeed each other at
intervals—some allege that every seventh wave towers above the rest.
Be that as it may, there is no doubt that a sudden change of wind
when the sea is strongly agitated frequently produces a wave of
surpassing magnitude. Other causes, not so obvious, may bring about
the same result, producing what in common parlance is called a “tidal
wave.” This is quite different from the tidal wave proper, which
periodically rushes up the estuaries of rivers like the Severn, the
Solway, the Garonne, the Hoogly and the Amazon. In the upper inlets
of the Bay of Fundy, where the spring-tides rise as high as seventy
feet, the incoming tide rushes up over naked sands in the form of a
perpendicular white-crested wave with great velocity. The tidal wave
of the Severn comes up from the Bristol Channel in a “bore” nine feet
high and with the speed of a race-horse, while the great bore of the
Tsien-Tang-Kiang in China is said to advance up that river like a wall
of water thirty feet in height, at the rate of twenty-five miles an
hour, sweeping all before it.[33] The ocean tidal wave dwarfs these and
all other waves by its huge size and tremendous energy. The effective
pressure of such a wave being estimated at 6,000 pounds to the square
foot, it is easy to understand how completely it becomes master of the
situation when it topples over on the deck of a ship. Only once in the
course of a good many voyages has the writer been an eye-witness of its
tremendous force. The occasion was thus noticed in the New York papers
of the 2nd and 3rd of August, 1896:
“The American liner _Paris_ and the Cunarder _Etruria_,
which arrived on Saturday, had a rough-and-tumble
battle before daylight on Tuesday morning with a summer
gale that had an autumn chill and a winter force in
it. The wind blew a whole gale and combed the seas as
high as they are usually seen in the cyclonic season.
The crest of a huge wave tumbled over the port bow of
the _Etruria_ with a crash that shook the ship from
stem to stern, and momentarily checked her speed; a
rent was made in the forward hatch through which the
water poured into the hold, flooding the lower tier of
staterooms ankle-deep. The ship’s bell was unshipped,
and it carried away the iron railing in front of it,
snapping iron stanchions two inches in diameter as if
they had been pipe-stems. The _Paris_, about the same
hour and in the same locality, shipped just such a sea
as that which hit the _Etruria_, but received less
damage. It fared much worse, however, with the sailing
ship _Ernest_, from Havre, which was fallen in with on
the morning of the gale showing signals of distress.
The French liner _La Bourgogne_, came to her rescue and
gallantly took off the captain and his crew of eleven
men, abandoning the shattered ship to her fate with ten
feet of water in her hold.”
It is not often that a tidal wave visits the St. Lawrence, but in
October, 1896, the SS. _Durham City_, of the Furness Line, when off
Anticosti, was struck by a big wave which carried away her deck-load,
including sixty eight head of cattle and everything movable. It was
only one sea that did the damage, but it made a clean sweep.
By a figure of speech, ocean waves are frequently spoken of as running
“mountains high,” and the popular tendency is doubtless towards
exaggeration. The estimate of experts is that storm waves frequently
rise to forty feet, and sometimes even to sixty or seventy feet in
height from the wave’s base to crest.
[Illustration: H. M. SS. “CRESCENT.”
Presented by publishers of the “Star Almanac,” Montreal, 1896.
This outline represents one of the smaller types of British warships,
known as first-class cruisers. The _Crescent_ was launched at
Portsmouth in 1892, and cost £383,068. She is 360 feet long and 60 feet
beam. Her tonnage is 7,700 tons; her indicated horse-power 12,000, and
her speed 19.7 knots an hour. Her armament consists of one 22-ton gun,
twelve 6-inch quick-firing, twelve 6-pounder _do._, five 3-pounder
_do._, seven machine guns and two light guns. The _Crescent_ was for
several years the flagship of Vice-Admiral James Elphinstone Erskine,
on the North American and West Indies Station, and is consequently well
known in Canadian waters. She visited Quebec several times.]
FOOTNOTES:
[30] The _Duke of Wellington_ was 240.6 feet long, 60 feet beam, 3,826
tons burthen, and 2,500 horse-power. She was engined by Robert Napier &
Sons, Glasgow, with geared engines and wooden cogs, and made 10.2 knots
an hour on her trial trip in 1853. The _Rattler_, of 1851, was 179½
feet long, 32¾ feet beam, had geared engines of 436 horse-power, and
attained a speed of 10 knots.
[31] See also p. 90.
[32] Based on a compilation by Captain W. H. Smith.
[33] “Encyclopedia Brit.,” Vol. xvii., p. 581, 8th Ed.