Kitobni o'qish: «Man on the Ocean: A Book about Boats and Ships», sahifa 8

On her first sea-voyage the Captain showed, apparently, such excellent sea-going qualities that her architect and the contractors, the Messrs Laird, were quite satisfied as to her safety in mid-ocean. In the autumn of 1870 she accompanied the fleet on a cruise; and on the 6th of September, shortly after midnight, foundered off Cape Finisterre. The whole crew were lost, with the exception of nineteen men, and among those who perished was Captain Coles himself, Captain Burgoyne, the commander of the ship, and a son of the then First Lord of the Admiralty—Mr Childers. It is unnecessary to recall to the memory of the adult among my readers the deep feeling of pity and gloom spread by this awful disaster throughout Great Britain.

The night on which the Captain foundered was no doubt a somewhat rough one, with squalls and a heavy sea on; but it was not merely the force of the storm which overwhelmed the vessel.

Mr James May, a surviving gunner of the ill-fated ship, gave a sufficiently clear account of the foundering of the vessel. Soon after midnight he was awakened from sleep by a noise and a feeling that the ship was uneasy. Rising, and taking with him a lamp, he proceeded to the after-turret to see if the guns were all right. Everything was secure enough there; but he had hardly finished his examination when he felt the vessel heel steadily over, a heavy sea struck her on the weather-port, the water rushed into the turret, and May presently found himself in the water.

He swam to the pinnace, which he perceived floating bottom upwards, and there he was presently joined by Captain Burgoyne and several others of the crew. Then he beheld the vessel turn over and go down, stern first; the whole catastrophe being over in a few minutes. The launch was drifting a few yards off, and May called out to his comrades, “Jump, men! it is our last chance.” May with three others succeeded in reaching the boat, in which fifteen of the remainder of the crew also found a refuge. It is uncertain whether poor Captain Burgoyne remained in the pinnace or failed to reach the launch.

The nineteen survivors, after a hard row of twelve hours, without food or drink, landed at Cape Finisterre, where they were hospitably received and cared for by the people. A court-martial was held in due course to investigate the cause of the disaster. Into the details of the evidence it is impossible here to enter, but it was sufficiently proved that there were grave faults in the Captain’s construction,—faults which, as is unfortunately too often the case, were not discovered by such calculations as were made before the ship started on what may be said to have been her first, as it was her last, cruise. It had, however, been noticed by some that the vessel was about a foot and a half deeper in the water than she should have been—that her free-board, in a word, instead of being eight feet above the water, as was designed, was only six feet six inches; and it needs but a very slight knowledge of marine matters to understand how this difference would materially prejudice the stability of such a vessel as the Captain.

If it has been the reader’s chance, as it has been ours, to visit anyone of our great naval arsenals—especially Portsmouth or Plymouth—he cannot have failed of being struck with the gallant and splendid appearance presented by many of our ships of war; but he must likewise have been affected with feelings the reverse of admiration by more than one type of modern ironclads. No one who admires a real ship, be it of wood or of iron—a stately frigate in full sail before a favouring wind—can at the same time admire a monitor. Many persons, in truth, will refuse to regard a turret-ship as a ship at all. It overturns our every notion of what a ship should look like. A low, black, mastless, raft-like, cruel-looking machine, without the faintest pretension to form or comeliness, a turret-ship is simply a fighting-engine, a floating battery—an ingenious and formidable instrument of death and destruction, no doubt, but nothing more. Yet these are among the leading war-ships of the present, and, as far as can at present be seen, of the immediate future; and on these we must depend for the protection of our shores should they ever be threatened.

And yet, great as is the annual cost of our navy, and great as is the amount of ingenuity spent in the construction of new and novel ships of war—each designed to be more impregnable and more formidable than its predecessor—our navy is at this moment in somewhat of an unsettled and transitory state. Changes in the construction of ironclads are every year taking place, and considerable difference of opinion exists among our highest naval authorities upon important points in marine architecture. Ships of war have now to contend with such formidable enemies in the shape of guns, torpedoes, and other engines of terribly destructive power, that it is difficult to say at present which will eventually triumph. One of the old wooden ships placed beside a modern ironclad is as a child’s toy battery compared with Gibraltar; and yet it can hardly be said that the nation has the same feeling of confidence and security in our present ships which it reposed in the vessels which Nelson so often led to victory; for it must be long ere the fate of the Captain and the Vanguard is entirely forgotten.

Of this, however, we may, we think, at least rest assured, that, however dubious we may be in regard to some of the novelties and presumed improvements that are being from time to time introduced in naval architecture, England is well abreast of the age in maritime matters; if her ships be not absolutely perfect, and proof against every form of danger, they are at least equal to those of any other nation. We need a strong, a very strong navy; and as a fact our naval resources are nearly equal to the combined naval strength of Europe.

A somewhat different condition of things will need to come about from that which at present exists among the nations of the world ere England can afford to decrease her naval armaments; and until the Great Powers of the world agree to settle their disputes by some other means than by “wager of battle,” and are resolved to “war no more,” probably the best and only way for her is to keep herself as strongly and perfectly armed as possible. It is this that has probably helped, at any rate, to secure so long and uninterrupted peace for our shores; and to try a different and opposite course would, to say the least, be a risk. It is upon her navy, as all the world knows, that England depends for defence and security. To be weak in our navy would be to be weak throughout all our armour. Our navy is at present, we would fain hope, a peace-weapon in our hands—a shield, not a sword; and while it is such, the stronger and more flawless it is, the better for us, and perhaps for the world at large. This may strike the reader as a somewhat vain-glorious, “spread-eagle” way of putting the case; but if he look at the matter fairly and impartially, we think he will admit that there is some truth in our statement.

Before closing this chapter, a word or two must be said descriptive of that fell foe to ships of war, the torpedo, though space demands that our reference should be brief. Almost all modern ships of war are constructed with false bottoms, designed especially to protect them against torpedoes. There are many different forms of torpedoes, employed in a variety of ways. A torpedo may be described as a submarine exploding apparatus. It may contain from thirty to as much as five hundred pounds of gunpowder; and the explosion is effected either by means of electricity, or by a spring and a detonating substance when the engine comes in contact with a ship. Some kinds of torpedoes rest on the bottom of the sea, while others are anchored and float suspended in the water. If a vessel strikes against one of these terrible engines, she is either at once blown to splinters, or a rent is made in her bottom which causes her rapidly to sink.

One type of torpedoes resembles somewhat a fish, and is impelled rapidly through the water by a screw and other machinery. Torpedoes are so constructed as to be able to rise and strike a vessel just at the right moment. When not filled with gunpowder or gun-cotton, dynamite and other explosive substances are used instead for charging these submarine war-engines.

Various methods have been devised to secure ships from torpedoes. Nets are sometimes extended in front of the ship, which catch the torpedoes before they can come in contact with the vessel’s bottom. This safeguard was adopted, in many instances with success, by the Federal war-ships when entering Confederate harbours. But a great deal may be done to secure a ship against these terrible engines of destruction by precaution simply, as was proved in the Crimean War, when the Russian torpedoes did little or no damage to our ships, by reason of the unceasing watchfulness maintained on board.

During the late war between Russia and Turkey one of the most daring exploits of the campaign was an attack by a Russian squadron of torpedo-boats on the Turkish monitor Hifse Rahman. The flotilla comprised four ships, the Czarevich, the Xenia, the Czarevna, and the Djirid. The two first named began the attack, the Czarevna and the Djirid holding themselves in reserve until their assistance should be wanted.

The launches were equipped with strong iron awnings which shielded their crews from the enemy’s fire. Each boat was armed with two torpedoes, fastened to the end of long spars projected over the bulwarks and working on pivots. The torpedoes could be detached from the spars when occasion demanded; while long chains were secured to the missiles, by which they were attached to the enemy’s vessel, as well as to the wire of a galvanic battery fastened round the waist of the commander of the launch. This battery was the means by which the torpedo was exploded.

The flotilla left the Roumanian side of the Danube on the 25th of June 1877 at about midnight, and in something less than an hour the Hifse Rahman loomed in sight, a shadowy mass on the dark waters. The approach of the torpedo-boats was almost noiseless, and the croaking of the frogs was said to have further favoured the Russians by drowning the sound of the engines, so that those on board the monitor were not aware of their enemy’s propinquity until the launches were almost alongside.

The sentry at once challenged, when Lieutenant Doubarsoff, the commander of the Czarevich, answered “Friends.” But his speech betrayed him; the alarm was spread; and the Hifse Rahman opened a sharp fire upon the launches. But Lieutenant Doubarsoff succeeded in attaching his torpedo-chain to a rope hanging at the monitor’s bows, and then rapidly backed his little vessel and fired the torpedo. A tremendous explosion; a column of water shot up into the air, and the launch was nearly swamped! A breach had, however, been made in the Hifse Rahman’s bulwarks.

The other monitors were now thoroughly alive to their danger, and the Russian launches had to sustain a deadly cannonade, upon which Lieutenant Doubarsoff ordered Lieutenant Schestakoff to bring up his launch, the Xenia, and apply a second torpedo, which the latter was able to do, attaching the missile amidships of the Turkish vessel. The fate of the Hifse Rahman was now sealed, and in a few minutes she sank.

The Russian launches succeeded in getting clear of their enemy again without losing a single man, and thus ended the first torpedo expedition ever made against an enemy’s ironclads, but which may, as a writer describing the event says, “end in completely revolutionising our present system of monster iron walls.” The Grand Cross of Saint George was awarded to Lieutenants Doubarsoff and Schestakoff for this intrepid and successful exploit.

Space is not left us to do more than revert for a moment to what is perhaps the deadliest weapon of offensive naval warfare yet devised,—rams. Some experts maintain that nothing can match the power of the ram of a modern ironclad skilfully handled; and a well-known naval authority has declared that the use of the guns in a naval action should be merely preliminary to that of the ram—in other words, that all effort should be concentrated upon making an opportunity of using the ram.

We close this chapter by recalling the reader’s attention to a feature in modern war-ships already alluded to, and which indeed the whole course of our remarks upon this subject points to—the almost universal use of machinery in modern naval tactics. Most assuredly in modern sea-warfare it may be said, in the Laureate’s words—used by him, of course, with a very different sense—that “the individual dwindles,” so that the prediction, which some of our readers may remember was once made by a First Lord of the Admiralty, seems not unlikely one day to become sober fact—that the time will come when we shall no longer require sailors, because all that our warships will need will be stokers and artillerymen. Whether this is a consummation to be desired we are not careful here to pronounce.

Chapter Thirteen.
Origins of Steamships—Ocean-Steamers, etcetera

As we have been led, in writing about ships of the navy, to refer to steam, we turn aside at this point to treat of that tremendous motive-power.

One night, in the year 1807, a terrible sight was witnessed by the inhabitants of the banks of the river Hudson in America.

Men love what is marvellous, and they will go a long distance out of their way to see that which is terrific and horrible; but on the night in question there was no need to go far. The farmers had only to look out of their windows, and the sailors of the shipping had only to lift their heads above the bulwarks, to behold a sight that appalled the stoutest hearted, and caused the very hair on the craniums of the timid to stand on end.

The object that created so much consternation was—a “monster of the deep!” At some parts of the river, men could not tell what it was like, for the night was dark when it passed, but a dark, shadowy idea they obtained by the light of the fire which the creature vomited from its jaws; and they formed a tremendous conception of its size and power from the speed at which it travelled, the splashing which it made, and the hideous groans with which it burdened the night-air.

This “fiery monster of the deep” was the first river-steamer, the Clermont!

Before going further into the details of this the first of a class of ships which have, within the last fifty years, almost completely changed the whole system of navigation, let us take a cursory glance at the first attempts made to propel ships by means of steam.

The subject has occupied mankind much longer than many people suppose. So long ago as the year 1543, a naval captain of Spain applied an engine to a ship of about two hundred tons, and succeeded in moving it at the rate of about two miles an hour. The nature of his engine the captain kept secret; but it was noted that part of it consisted of a caldron of boiling water.

This we are told by Thomas Gonzales, the director of the Royal Archives of Simancas; but his veracity is now called in question,—at any rate, nothing further was afterwards heard of the discovery.

The first authentic record we have of steam navigation occurs in a work written by the Marquis of Worcester in 1665, in which allusion is made to the application of engines to boats and ships, which would “draw them up rivers against the stream, and, if need be, pass London Bridge against the current, at low-water.”

Many attempts, more or less successful, were made by ingenious men from time to time. Papin of France in 1690 constructed a steamboat, the success of which may be gathered from the fact that it was ultimately broken up by enraged and jealous watermen! Jonathan Hulls in 1736, and M. Genevois in 1759, were each successful, to a certain extent, in constructing working models, but nothing definite resulted from their labours. Yet we would not be understood to undervalue the achievements of such men. On the contrary, it is by the successive discoveries of such inquiring and philosophical men that grand results are at last attained. The magnificent structures that crowd the ocean were not the creations of one era, or the product of one stupendous mind. They are the result of the labours of thousands of men whose names have never been known to fame.

The men who, working upon the materials supplied by preceding generations, brought the propulsion of boats by steam nearest to perfection, just before the commencement of navigation, were Mr Miller of Dumfries, Mr Taylor, his friend, and tutor in his family, and Mr Symington. All of these were, in a very important degree, instrumental in ushering in the great event. Symington, in 1788, fitted an engine to a large boat, in which he attained the speed of seven miles an hour.

The man to whom the credit belongs of introducing steam navigation is undoubtedly Mr Fulton of America. This gentleman, who was contemporary with those just mentioned, visited France and England, in the former of which countries he endeavoured, unsuccessfully, to carry out his projects, while in the latter he met with Symington, and obtained much valuable information from him.

We have no sympathy whatever with those who seem to rake in to the credit of their own country every discovery and invention they possibly or plausibly can. We did much towards the commencement of steam navigation, but we did not begin it. We pushed considerably in advance of other nations in the invention of apparatus by which boats might be propelled by steam; we constructed models, tried it on a small scale, and found the thing to answer admirably: but we rested there. Meanwhile, an enterprising American came and saw our achievements, ordered an engine in England, carried it across the Atlantic, and commenced the era of steam navigation, on the river Hudson, by building and launching:

The First Steamer

Robert Fulton, in conjunction with Chancellor Livingston of America, planned, built, and launched a boat in the spring of 1807, which they named the Clermont. It was propelled by steam, and averaged the rate of five miles an hour on its first voyage from New York to Albany, a distance of nearly one hundred and fifty miles.

All discoveries and novelties, great and small, are treated with ridicule at first by the mass of mankind, so it is not a matter of wonder that the crowds which flocked to the wharf to see the Clermont start on her first trip were somewhat satirical and jocose in their remarks. But when the steam was turned on, and they heard the first of that series of snorts that was destined ere long to shake the trembling air of land and sea, and saw the great, uncouth paddle-wheels revolve powerfully in the water and churn it into foam, a shout, tinged doubtless with prophetic fervour, greeted the triumphant engineer as his little steamboat darted from the shore.

Colden, in his Life of Fulton, speaks thus of the Clermont’s first voyage:—

“She excited the astonishment of the inhabitants of the shores of the Hudson, many of whom had not heard even of an engine, much less of a steamboat. There were many descriptions of the effects of her first appearance upon the people of the banks of the river.

“Some of these were ridiculous, but some of them were of such a character as nothing but an object of real grandeur could have excited. She was described by some, who had indistinctly seen her passing in the night, as a monster moving on the waters, defying the winds and tide and breathing flames and smoke! She had the most terrific appearance from other vessels which were navigating the river when she was making her passage. The first steamboat (as others yet do) used dry pine wood for fuel, which sends forth a column of ignited vapour many feet above the flue, and, whenever the fire is stirred, a galaxy of sparks fly off, which, in the night, have a very brilliant and beautiful appearance.

“This uncommon light first attracted the attention of the crews of other vessels. Notwithstanding the wind and tide, which were adverse to its approach, they saw with astonishment that it was rapidly coming towards them; and when it came so near that the noise of the machinery and paddles was heard, the crews—if what was said in the newspapers of the time be true—in some instances shrank beneath their decks from the terrific sight, and left their vessels to go on shore; whilst others prostrated themselves, and besought Providence to protect them from the approaches of the horrible monster which was marching on the tide, and lighting its path by the fires that it vomited!” The Clermont became a regular passenger boat on the Hudson; and the progress of steam navigation continued to advance, until nearly all the navigable rivers of the world, and the great ocean itself, were covered with these clanking ships of commerce, which have added more to the comfort, the wealth, and the power of man—the power of doing good as well as evil—than the feeble human mind can conceive.

The Comet

It was not until five years after the Americans set us the example that we launched our first passenger steamboat, the Comet, a vessel of about twenty-five tons, with engines of three horse-power. This little vessel was started by Henry Bell, of Helensburgh, on the Clyde. It began its career in 1812, and plied regularly for two years.

Like her predecessor the Clermont, she was regarded with no small degree of scepticism, and with a large amount of surprise by the thousands who saw her set forth. Nevertheless, she soon proved her value, became a successful speculation to her owners, and was ere long followed by many other vessels of a similar kind.

The “Argyle”, afterwards named “The Thames.”

In 1813 the Argyle was launched. This vessel was the first European steamer that pushed out into the more dangerous navigation of the open sea-coast. She was purchased by a company in London. On her passage up, she was as nearly as possible wrecked on a lee-shore, but, by her steam-power, was enabled to go straight against the wind, at the rate of three and a half knots an hour, and so escaped.

One of the passengers has left us an interesting account of this interesting voyage, from which we cull one or two paragraphs:

“The weather had now become so stormy and bad that our captain determined to put in to the port of Wexford, his great object being to navigate the vessel safely to London, rather than, by using great despatch, to expose her to unnecessary risk. We put to sea again at two o’clock p.m., on May 30th, and steered for Saint David’s Head, the most westerly point of Wales. During our passage across Saint George’s Channel, one of the blades of the starboard paddle-wheel became out of order; the engine was stopped, and the blade cut away. Some hours afterwards, a similar accident happened to the other wheel, which was remedied in the same manner.

“About two-o’clock in the afternoon, twelve hours after leaving Wexford, we reached the pass of Ramsay. We remained there for three hours, to oil the engine, and to give the stoker, who had not quitted his post an instant since leaving Wexford, a little rest. In a short time several boats were seen coming to our assistance, the idea prevailing here, as at Wexford, that our vessel was on fire. We landed on the island of Ramsay, a most desolate spot, containing only one habitation; we, however, procured some bread, butter, milk, cheese, and ale, with which we returned to the vessel, and commenced steaming through the straits, and across Saint Bride’s Bay.

“The weather had now become unfavourable, and the sea ran alarmingly high in the bay. On the south side of Saint Bride’s Bay, between Skomar Island and the mainland, is a nasty passage called Jack Sound. Our pilot warned us of the danger of attempting this passage, excepting at high-water and with a favourable wind, as there were several formidable whirlpools, which would seize the vessel and carry her on the rocks. Captain Dodd, however, who knew the power of his engine, insisted on going through the sound, in order to save five hours and another night at sea. The pilot repeated his remonstrances, at the same time trembling for fear; but we passed through all the whirlpools with the greatest ease. Nothing, however, can be conceived more frightful than the aspect of some of the rocks, and especially of those called the Bishop and his Clerks. Had we been in a sailing vessel, our position would have been most perilous; but our steam was all-powerful, and brought us safely to Milford Haven.

“We put to sea again late on the evening of the 31st, and on Friday morning we were in the middle of the Bristol Channel, with no land visible; but towards evening we discovered the high coast that terminates England in the west. As the weather, however, again assumed a gloomy aspect, our new pilot judged that it would be imprudent that night to double Land’s End, so we shaped our course towards Saint Ives.

“On approaching the shore, we perceived a crowd of small vessels making towards us with all possible rapidity, by means of oars and sails. Here, as elsewhere, the alarm was taken, on seeing a vessel, judged to be on fire, steering towards the town, and all the disposable craft immediately put to sea. All the rocks commanding Saint Ives were covered with spectators; and when we entered the harbour, the aspect of our vessel appeared to occasion as much surprise amongst the inhabitants as the ships of Captain Cook must have produced on his first appearance amongst the islanders of the South Seas.

“Another night passed, a night of storm and danger, but the little Thames (the vessel had been renamed by the new company who purchased her) behaved nobly, and next day reached Plymouth. Here,” continues the narrative, “the harbour-master, who had never seen a steam-vessel before, was as much struck with astonishment, when he boarded the Thames, as a child is on getting possession of a new plaything. He steered the vessel, and we passed round several ships of war in the sound. The sailors ran in crowds to the sides of their vessels as we passed them, and, mounting the rigging, gave vent to their observations in a most amusing manner.

“We left Plymouth at noon on the following day, and steamed without interruption to Portsmouth, where we arrived on Friday, June 9th, having accomplished one hundred and fifty miles in twenty-three hours. At Portsmouth astonishment and admiration were, if possible, more strongly evinced than elsewhere. Tens of thousands of spectators were assembled to gaze on the Thames; and the number of vessels that crowded around us was so great, that it became necessary to request the admiral to give us a guard to preserve some degree of order.

“We entered the harbour in the most brilliant style, steaming in, with the assistance of wind and tide, at the rate of from twelve to fourteen miles an hour. A court-martial was at the time sitting on board the Gladiator frigate; but the novelty of our steamboat presented an irresistible attraction, and the whole court came off to us, excepting the president, who was obliged by etiquette to retain his seat until the court was regularly adjourned. On Saturday, June 10th, the port-admiral sent his band and a guard of marines at an early hour on board; and soon afterwards he followed, accompanied by three admirals, eighteen post-captains, and a large number of ladies. The morning was spent in steaming amongst the fleet, and running over to the Isle of Wight. From Portsmouth we proceeded to Margate, which we reached on Sunday morning. Here we remained until the following day, when we embarked for our final trip, at half-past eight in the morning; and about six in the evening arrived at Limehouse, where we moored.”

We have entered thus at considerable length into this voyage, because, besides being the first steam sea-voyage, it serves to exhibit very distinctly how great and how rapid has been the progress of steam-navigation within the last fifty years. In reading such an account as this, in these days of “ocean mail-steamers” and “Great Easterns,” we can scarcely believe that in it reference is made, not to the middle ages, but to the year 1813.

Ocean-Steamers

After that momentous era when steam was first successfully applied to useful purposes, human progress and improvement in all departments of science and art seemed to have been hooked on to it, and to have thenceforth rushed roaring at its tail, with truly “railroad speed,” towards perfection!

Scarce had the first model steamboat splashed with its ungainly “blades” the waters of a pond, than river traffic by means of steamboats began. And no sooner had this been proved to be a decided success, than daring schemes were laid to rush over the ocean itself on wheels. Men were not long about it, after the first start was made. Their intellectual steam was up, and the whirl of inventive effort racked the brains of engineers as the wheels of their steamboats tortured the waters of the deep.

And here again the name of Fulton comes into notice. Early in 1814 he conceived the idea of constructing a steam-vessel of war, which should carry a strong battery with furnaces for red-hot shot. Congress authorised the building of such a ship, and before the end of the same year it was launched. Fulton died the following year, but the fame of that enterprising engineer will never die.

The new vessel received the rather quaint title of Fulton the First. She consisted of two boats joined together. Those who were appointed by Congress to examine her and report, gave the following account of this curious man-of-war:

“She is a structure resting on two boats and keels, separated from end to end by a channel fifteen feet wide and sixty-six feet long. One boat contains the caldrons of copper to prepare her steam; the cylinder of iron, its piston, lever, and wheels, occupy part of the other. The water-wheel revolves in the space between them. The main or gun-deck supports the armament, and is protected by a parapet four feet ten inches thick, of solid timber, pierced by embrasures. Through thirty port-holes as many thirty-two pounders are intended to fire red-hot shot, which can be heated with great safety and convenience. Her upper or spar-deck, upon which several thousand men might parade, is encompassed by a bulwark, which affords safe quarters. She is rigged with two stout masts, each of which supports a large lateen yard and sails. She has two bowsprits and jibs, and four rudders—one at each extremity of each boat; so that she can be steered with either end foremost. Her machinery is calculated for the addition of an engine which will discharge an immense column of water, which it is intended to throw upon the decks and through the port-holes of the enemy, and thereby deluge her armament and ammunition.