"he's as mad as the King of Bedlam--that is, to my thinking. In fact, on
shore they say he is in league with the devil. But whether it is the
devil or the powers above, he certainly carries a fair pinch of good
luck 'twixt his thumb and his forefinger. You haven't heard him sing
yet. Wait till you hear him at that. It will make the flesh crawl on
your back, my lad. But, mark ye, he's a good seaman, for all of his
vagaries. And he can man-handle any two of us."
The only other officer capable of navigation left on board the schooner
was the third Lieutenant, Mr. Carter, who had been one of the slightly
wounded, and who yet carried his right arm in a sling. As Plummer and I
were talking, the Lieutenant came on deck, and ordered us to shake out
the reef in the mainsail that we had taken in some time back, and set
the topsail and flying jib.
The weather was clearing up and the wind going down at the same time.
The sun now broke through the clouds, and by noon it was fine, clear
weather. To the eastward we could see the low-lying shores of France,
while to the westward the white cliffs of England shone plain to sight.
A number of sail could be seen skirting the English coast, but nothing
in the way of shipping could we make out on the other hand. But after we
had altered our course slightly to the eastward, at three o'clock in the
afternoon we made out a brown sail hugging the east shore, and evidently
endeavoring to make the entrance to a small port not far from the mouth
of a little bay. We could see the houses and steeples plainly.
It was evidently our intention to head off this little brown sail, and
soon we saw that in this we should be successful, as the latter turned
about, and started to run for it; but a point of land made her take
quite an offing, and in two hours we were almost within hailing
distance.
One of the 18-pound carronades was loaded, and a shot fired across the
little vessel's bow. Down came the brown sail, and she lay there
swinging and dipping like a wild fowl too frightened to escape. I have
seen some clumsy craft in my day, but I think these vessels are the
strangest-looking. She was a French lugger, only half decked over, with
a great leeboard swung alongside, and had a comformation somewhat like
the shape of the boat which boys whittle out with their jack-knives.
There were five men in her, who appeared scared out of their wits, but
their relief was great when Captain Gorham hailed them in French.
They had no compass, but agreed to set our pilot on shore, and he left
us, grinning and delighted. Now we cleared away again, and left the
Strait of Dover behind us, steering a course somewhat to the eastward of
the middle of the English Channel.
I noticed that the armament of the _Yankee_ was very similar to that of
the _Young Eagle_, except she carried one less gun on a side.
In the evening, as I was talking to some of the crew below, a cabin-boy
came into the forecastle in search of me, with an order for me to repair
aft at once--the Captain wished me. I was thinking of exchanging my
citizen's clothes for some that Plummer had offered me, but I had not
done so when the message was given me, so I hastened up. Captain Gorham
was pacing up and down the little quarter-deck; he halted as he saw me
approaching.
"You will dine with me this evening, Mr. Hurdiss," he said. "And if my
nose does not deceive me, dinner is on the table."
I bowed and thanked him, and we went down into the little cabin. Mr.
Carter was on deck, and the Captain and I sat down _vis-à-vis_. No
sooner had he seated himself than he began to hum, or chant better, only
without using words, beneath his breath. This he kept up even while he
was feeding himself. As I was very hungry, I did not interrupt the
music, and so for full five minutes not a word was said. At last Gorham
pushed back a little ways from the table, and sang a few words to the
same air he had been humming.
"And-now,-Mr.-Hurdiss, spin-us-your-yarn," he chanted.
So I began at once with the cruise of the _Young Eagle_ and the fight
with the frigate, for I did not consider it necessary to tell of my
earlier life. It was the second time that I had told the story this day,
and I probably hastened it. When I came to the more exciting parts,
dealing with my prison life and escape, Captain Gorham hummed a little
bit louder, and this continuous accompaniment urged me to speak faster,
so I covered ground in great fashion. He played an obligato to my solo,
as it were piano, fortissimo, and all of it. When I had finished he
arose and hushed his noise, as if he had been forced to bite the end off
the tune against his will.
"Mr. Hurdiss," he said, "we need some one here aft with us, and there's
a berth for you. Take it. I shall tell the men to obey your orders, as
you will obey mine. You will act as third Lieutenant, sir."
Then, as if this settled matters, he began to hum again, and went up the
ladder to the deck, leaving me sitting there in amazement. Here was
another false position! How fate had forced such situations upon me! It
seemed a long time ago that I was supposed to be a French nobleman (mark
you, I was one), and I could scarce bring myself to believe that my
rescue had happened only the very morning of this day. "Now," said I to
myself, "if I refuse to accept this honor thrust upon me, I may do the
very worst thing for myself that may happen." It behooved me to balance
matters carefully, to weigh and measure possible results.
I knew enough to give the orders under ordinary circumstances for the
making and taking in of sail. I could, at a pinch, have stood my trick
at the wheel. I could use enough sea terms to lead one to suppose that I
knew more, but I knew none of the methods used in determining a ship's
position at sea. I had no inkling of how to prick a course on the chart,
and what a navigator did when he squinted at the sun through a sextant I
could not imagine; but yet, I reasoned, the Captain and Mr. Carter would
probably do all of that that was necessary. I could get on with the men,
I felt sure, and why not undertake it? Thus I convinced myself that I
could become a Lieutenant. I had learned to box the compass while in
prison; and thinking of this accomplishment made me smile, for surely we
would have given something to have possessed one to box.
The good ten-knot breeze held in the same direction all night long. I
took the midnight watch, and felt quite proud of myself as the men moved
to obey my orders to ease off the sheets when I thought occasion
demanded it.
Plummer appeared quite pleased at my promotion, and the other men had
not appeared to take any dislike to their new officer; so I became quite
tickled with the idea of my importance, and stopped my misgivings.
The next day was Sunday. I think I detected that Captain Gorham hummed
psalm tunes during breakfast. Surely it was Old Hundred that he was
repeating when I joined him on deck in the afternoon.
But it was no Sunday breeze, and we skipped along lively. In my opinion
the _Yankee_ would have been no match for the _Young Eagle_ in sailing,
but she would have shown a clean pair of heels to almost any English or
French cruiser.
During the day we had passed within some miles of a number of vessels,
but they had paid no attention to us, and it was not until half past
five that we had anything that approached an interesting situation. We
were somewhere off the island of Alderney, for the Captain knew his
position to a nicety, and was steering a little to the north, "to give
the Casquet Rocks a wide berth," he told me, when we made out a vessel
bearing down to meet us, and carrying the wind so that if we kept on as
we were we would pass near to her.
In an hour it could be seen that she was a frigate, but Captain Gorham
held the same course undisturbed.
It reminded me a little of my voyage in the _Minetta_ to note the
anxiety among the crew. The vessel was to windward, and had evidently
been reconnoitring the French coast; but she did not show any suspicion,
and we approached one another as peaceably as were we two friendly
merchantmen. All at once the frigate tossed out her flag, and up went
ours in answer.
Needless to say ours was the same as hers--the cross of St. George.
Mr. Carter had brought up from the cabin a canvas bag and a book, the
edges of which were weighted with lead. "There she goes, sir," he said,
turning to the Captain; and as he spoke a little line of streamers crept
up the Britisher's mast-head. The Captain, humming carelessly, opened
the book.
"Give them four, one, nine, three, seven, Mr. Carter," he said, in a
singsong.
Five little flags that the Lieutenant had picked out rose on our color
halyards. To this day I do not know what they meant, but it was
apparently satisfactory to the frigate, for she took in her signals, and
we did likewise. Plummer gave me a wink as he gathered the colors in as
they fluttered to the deck.
"We caught these aboard the last prize," he said, "and just saved the
book from going overboard. There's luck for you!"
I noticed that Captain Gorham's eyes were dancing as we passed by the
frigate, about a quarter of a mile astern of her, but I was totally
unprepared for what he did, and stood aghast at his orders.
"Stand by to cast loose and provide the long twelve!" he shrieked in his
high voice.
Mr. Carter made as if to offer some remonstrance; but the men, grinning,
jumped to obey. We had the windward place now, and every advantage,
besides it would soon be dusk.
"Teedle, dee, dumpty, di-do," sang Captain Gorham as he sighted the long
gun himself.
As soon as he had trained it to his satisfaction there was a roar, and
we all bent forward to watch the shot. I gave a squeal of delight as I
saw the frigate's mizzen-topsail yard break square in two and, with the
sail, slam over against the stays. The Captain of that vessel must have
been a most surprised individual. He yawed about and succeeded in
getting taken all aback and generally mixed up.
"Show our colors!" cried Gorham, and I dare say the sight of them
surprised the Englishman still more. It was full five minutes, however,
before he got upon our track or fired a gun. Then two of his shot went
over us, and the rest fell short; but as we sailed three points closer
in the wind almost, and legged two feet for his one, he gave up after
half an hour's sailing; and I wonder if he made a report of all this to
their lordships!
A pitch-dark night came on. I went on watch at ten o'clock, and did a
great deal of thinking while I paced the deck; but my wandering thoughts
were soon called back. At eleven the lookout reported to me that he
thought there was land dead ahead, as he could make out lights.
I ran forward, and sure enough I could see flashes here and there, and
two or three steady points of light off our weather beam. I jumped below
and called the Captain.
"Have you held the same course?" he asked.
"I think so, sir, unless the wind has changed."
"Oh, confound it, we must get a compass!" Gorham grumbled, as he ran up
the ladder ahead of me.
He ascended a short ways into the weather shrouds.
"That's no shore," he cried to Mr. Carter, who had come on deck
barefooted. "That's a big fleet bound out for the Indies--that's what it
is. By Jupiter, we'll stop and get a compass! Port your helm!" he roared
to the man at the wheel, and the booms swung out as we got before the
wind.
We bore straight down upon the lights, that had now increased in number
and vividness. We slackened our speed by taking in our topsails one
after another, and hauling all sheets well aft. By one o'clock we were
almost within speaking distance of the two rearmost ships, whose lights
we could make out very plainly. As we displayed none of our own, we were
probably invisible, owing to the blackness of the night. The crew had
all been called on deck, and the carronades and the midship guns were
loaded. And we came closer and closer, until it was only a question of
time when a lookout should discern our presence.
"Get out the whale-boat, Mr. Carter," said Gorham, quietly, (he had been
squinting through a night-glass). "The nearest vessel is a merchant
brig! Now, Mr. Hurdiss," he added, turning to me and dropping his
singsong for a moment, "see what you're made of. Take the carpenter and
nine men, and board that brig. They're all asleep on her. Do it quietly,
and fire no shot unless you have to. Here, take this cutlass--a slit
throat stops a shout."
Almost before I knew it the whale-boat was ready, the men sitting on the
thwarts with their cutlasses and pistols in their belts, and we had
shoved off. I confess that I was trembling so from excitement that my
breath came in short gasps, and I could not swallow for the life of me.
The carpenter was sitting close to me on the gun-wale.
"Old Smiler is going to see what that other chap is made of," he said,
pointing to the faint glimmer a half a mile or so down the wind.
The last instructions I had received on leaving the _Yankee_ were, if I
took the vessel successfully, to douse all lights, make off to the
eastward for an hour, and then crack on all sail, holding a course
southwest-by-west. That would carry me, as I was told, clear of Lizard
Head and out into the Atlantic, where Gorham would try to pick me up.
The men, of their own accord, were taking quick short strokes, with no
noise in the row-locks. And in a few minutes we were under the stern of
the vessel, that I made out to be a brig, as Gorham said.
The breeze was much lighter than it had been, and we swung under the
stern and backed up to her, the better to run away if necessary, and
took in our oars quietly without any danger of capsizing. The man in the
stern caught the chains that run down to the rudder, and whispered back,
"All's well!"
I stood up, and straining my eyes, saw that within reach of a man's hand
overhead was a row of four cabin windows; the middle one was open.
[Illustration: I CAUGHT THE COMBING OF THE WINDOW AND WORMED MYSELF
INSIDE.]
Thinking that it befitted my position best to be the first on board, I
got to my feet, and then by standing on the shoulders of the two men on
the afterthwart, I caught the combing of the window and wormed myself
inside. I could see that I was in a fair-sized cabin, that a dim light
came from a lantern hanging in a passageway forward; but my heart almost
stood still after a tremendous thump against my ribs.
Not more than an arm's-length from me, I heard the sound of heavy
breathing! I had unshipped my cutlass to make my entrance more easy, and
now I drew the pistol from my belt and stood there, peering to one side,
with every muscle stiff as a harp-string. The deep breathing went on
without an interruption.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
THE USE OF TORPEDOES IN WAR.
HOW THEY ARE MADE, AND WHAT THEY DO.
BY FRANKLIN MATTHEWS.
The most dreaded implement of war in these days is the torpedo. One of
these darting fishes of death, costing a little more than $3000, can
almost instantly send the most powerful battle-ship, costing as much as
$5,000,000, to the bottom of the sea. This shark of war has a
destructive charge of guncotton in its nose. When it strikes the
war-ship it destroys itself and the ship also. No ship has ever been
built stout enough to withstand an attack by one of these artificial
monsters of the sea. They are made to leap from the side of a vessel
into the water, and after they are once released they go with the speed
of an express train to the place where they are aimed to go. They propel
themselves through the water, and they keep exactly at a depth which is
fixed before they are fired. Nowadays they dive from the ship into the
water. It is probable that soon they will be sent into the water below
the surface and out of sight of the enemy. Then no captain of a ship in
battle will know when to expect an attack by a torpedo, and perhaps when
he fancies that he has beaten his enemy, and has the other ship at his
mercy, a torpedo may be darting at him, unseen and unerring in its
track, that will send him and his ship to the bottom before any one on
board can save himself.
[Illustration: A CONTROLLABLE TORPEDO IN ACTION.]
Torpedoes are of two general kinds. One is the automobile type and the
other is the controllable type. The first goes its own way, that is,
controls itself. The second may be steered or controlled from the place
of its discharge. This country and most other countries use the
automobile torpedoes, and we have two kinds of them. One is the
Whitehead torpedo, and the other is the Howell. The Whitehead is
practically a submarine boat, intended to destroy itself and anything
else it hits after a limited run under the water. It has its own engine
for propulsion, and uses compressed air as the motive power. The Howell
is also intended to cause as much destruction as the Whitehead, and is
also a submarine vessel. It is propelled by the rotation of a
centrifugal wheel, which has been turned by machinery up to about 10,000
revolutions. As this wheel unwinds itself, so to speak, it sets the
machinery of the torpedo in motion, and it goes on its errand of
destruction. The Whitehead is a foreign invention, and the Howell is the
invention of one of our own naval officers. This government has favored
the Whitehead for the equipment of most of the ships of the navy, and
for the purposes of this article we may take that as a type.
These torpedoes require as much delicacy in their manufacture as a
watch. They are boats, and must be fashioned in their outlines so as to
glide through the water without the slightest deviation. Any inequality
of shape would send a torpedo flying off in some other direction than
that in which it was intended it should go. Inside, the complex
machinery must act as accurately as the machinery of a watch, or the
torpedo will fail of its purpose. It would be tiresome to go into the
full details of the machinery of a torpedo, and, besides, it is
practically a government secret; but we may tell about the general
features of these engines of war.
[Illustration: A WHITEHEAD TORPEDO.]
The Whitehead torpedo consists of several well-defined parts. The first
is the head, where the guncotton is placed for explosion. This part is
what is called "ogival" in shape, and is bluntly rounded. Then comes
quite a long straight part. That is the chamber for the compressed air.
Then there is what is called a buoyancy chamber, in which is placed the
diving apparatus. Then follows the engine-room, to which the water is
admitted through little slits in the torpedo. Then comes another
buoyancy chamber, in which the important parts of the steering apparatus
are placed, and then comes the tail with its two screws and rudders and
fins.
The war-heads of the torpedoes of the largest size contain 220 pounds of
guncotton. Most of this guncotton is kept in a damp condition. The rest
is dry. The dry guncotton is exploded by a small charge of fulminate of
mercury, and that in turn explodes the wet guncotton. About the only
thing that will explode wet guncotton is dry guncotton. The war-heads of
the torpedoes are so arranged that until they travel at least eighty
yards from a ship the firing apparatus is locked. This saves the ship
from being destroyed by its own weapon in case of accident. When the
nose of the war-head strikes an object, it pushes a pin through a copper
partition into the fulminate of mercury, and the explosion follows.
The torpedo's air-chamber consists of forged steel about an inch thick.
It must be very strong, for it must be charged with compressed air to a
pressure of 1350 pounds to the square inch. Expensive machinery is used
in finishing off this part of the torpedo. The lathes, that work on the
inside can produce steel shavings of the thickness of a thousandth of an
inch. The long after-part of the torpedo is made of thin steel, but
strongly braced so that the machinery can do its work.
We probably can best understand how these little ships are made by
studying what they do. Suppose the battle-ship _Kentucky_ wants to sink
an antagonist in war. The air-compressor is set at work. A large-size
torpedo is swung on a rack and lowered to a tube in the side of the
ship, and slid in place. A valve is attached to an opening in the
torpedo, and the air is compressed into the air-chamber. By means of a
measuring device the observer has fixed the exact time and direction
when to discharge the torpedo so as to hit the enemy. Four ounces of
powder have been inserted in the torpedo-tube back of the torpedo, and
the word to fire is given.
By a simple arrangement the air-valves are closed, the machinery in the
torpedo unlocked so that after it strikes the water the air will flow
into the engine and start the screws going. The gauges and springs have
also been so arranged that the torpedo will remain at a fixed depth.
With a speed of about a mile in two minutes the 16-foot torpedo rushes
through the water. If it strikes the enemy, a great naval catastrophe
happens. If it misses, it is so arranged as to sink after it has spent
its force, and to disappear out of the way of doing harm to shipping. If
practice work is being done with the torpedo at any time, the mechanism
is so arranged beforehand that when the torpedo has run its course it
rises to the surface and is recovered.
How does a torpedo keep at a certain distance under water? Well, there
are two bits of machinery to accomplish that. One is a pendulum. If the
nose of the torpedo raises itself, the pendulum swings backward and
depresses the rudders at the stern, and brings down the nose. If the
torpedo begins to dive, the pendulum moves forward, and the opposite
result follows. The torpedo remains at the required depth through the
pressure of the water that comes into the engine-room on a rubber
diaphragm, to which is attached a delicate spring. The pressure of the
water and the strength of the spring offset each other when the torpedo
is at the depth wanted. If the torpedo sinks or rises, the harmony
between the spring and the pressure of water is disturbed and the
steering-engine is affected, and the rudders moved so as to keep the
weapon at a certain depth. Slight changes up or down are regulated by
this machinery; but if the plunge or rise is of a serious nature, the
pendulum begins to swing, and the torpedo corrects its course at once.
Another most delicate part of the torpedo's machinery is what is called
a "valve group." This is a set of valves used for various purposes, the
chief of which is to restrain violent action from the compressed air
during changes in direction of the little craft or during its run. They
have such names as the "controlling valve," the "reducing valve," the
"regulating valve." The flow of air into the little three-cylinder
engine must be constant and of a certain pressure. The screws at the
stern of the boat must be turned at the rate of about one thousand
revolutions a minute, and the control of the force that propels them
must be most efficient.
Another piece of important machinery is known as the "locking gear."
When a torpedo is shot into the water from a ship the pendulum may lag a
little in its swing forward. This would put the rudder down and make the
torpedo take a deep dive. In shallow water this might mean contact with
the bottom, and of course that would never do. The locking gear prevents
any action by the rudder until the torpedo has travelled about a hundred
yards. By that time the craft has settled to its work, and has ceased to
make any skipping motions in the water. Thus we see that the torpedo is
not ready for full duty until it has gone a considerable distance from
the ship. It cannot explode nor steer itself until it is darting through
the water under its own power at a certain depth and at a certain speed.
If it does the work expected of it, it will strike its target in
probably less than one minute. It therefore does appalling destruction
in almost an instant.
[Illustration: TORPEDO AND LAUNCHING TUBE.]
The reason that there are two screws at the stern is to make sure of
propelling the torpedo in a straight line. One screw turns to the right,
and one to the left. The tendency to go to the right or left which would
occur if there were only one screw is thus equalized. The fin part of
the tail also serves to keep the torpedo on a straight course. There is
a great deal of variety in the machinery which is crowded into one of
these torpedoes, but with that we need not concern ourselves. There is
almost as much delicate machinery necessary to place the torpedoes in
the water as to keep them going after they get into the water. The
launching tube and air-compressors look like simple affairs, but in
reality they have to be adjusted most delicately and most carefully to
the torpedoes.