Man on the Ocean: A Book about Boats and Ships

Soon after this a small brig was seen right under the starboard bow. As usual with these small coasters, she was showing no light and keeping no look-out, and but for the anxious vigilance exercised on board the big ship, the brig would have been under the waves in two minutes more. Her escape was narrow enough, and nothing short of the instant stoppage of the engines and actually reversing the screw saved her from swift destruction. She drifted from under the starboard paddle within twenty yards—quite close enough to enable Captain Harrison to speak to her master, and to express a very strong opinion on his style of navigation and conduct generally.

Towards the close of the trip all the fore and aft sails were set. The look of her vast spread of canvas and the extraordinary effect it produced, as one stood at the wheel-house and gazed beneath the long vista of brown sails stretched to the very utmost, and sending off the wind with the sustained roar of a volcano, was something almost indescribable. No mere description could convey a fair idea of the curious effect of the long, unbroken avenue of masts, sails, and funnels,—like a whole street of steamships, if such a term is fairly applicable.

The rate of going throughout the whole trip was very satisfactory. Allowing for the want of trim on the part of the vessel, and consequent absence of immersion in both screw and paddles, it was calculated from this data, by all the nautical authorities on board, that, in proper condition, the vessel might be depended on for eighteen miles an hour throughout a long voyage, and under steam alone. That in a strong and favourable breeze she would at times accomplish eighteen knots, or more than twenty-one miles an hour, there was no reason to doubt.

Among other tests to which the Great Eastern was subjected was the terrible storm of the 25th and 26th October of that year, (1859), in which the Royal Charter went down. She lay at anchor in the harbour of Holyhead during that storm. So fierce was the gale that a large part of the breakwater was destroyed, and several vessels went down inside the harbour, while some were driven on shore. For one hour the big ship was as near destruction as she is ever likely to be. Her salvation, under God, was due to the experience and energy of Captain Harrison and his officers. During the whole gale the captain was on the watch, sounding the lead to see if she dragged, and keeping the steam up to be in readiness to put to sea at a moment’s notice. The gale roared and whistled through the rigging with indescribable fury. The captain, in trying to pass along the deck, was thrown down, and his waterproof coat was blown to ribbons. The cabin skylights were thrown open with a fearful crash, the glass broken, and deluges of rain and spray poured into the saloons. Two anchors were down, one seven tons, the other three, with eighty and sixty fathoms of chain respectively; but the ground was known to be bad, and the lee-shore rocky, while the waves came curling and writhing into harbour, straining the cables to the utmost, and dashing against the rocks like avalanches of snow. The dash of these billows on the breakwater was like the roar of artillery. All this time the red light at the end of the breakwater shone out cheerily in the midst of a turmoil of spray. At last masses of the timber-work and solid masonry gave way. The gale rose to its fiercest, and one huge billow came rolling in; it towered high above the breakwater; it fell, and the red light was seen no more. The danger was now imminent. The cables could evidently bear no more, and the gale was increasing; so the screw was set going, but the wreck of timber from the breakwater fouled it and brought it to a dead-lock. Then the wind veered round more to the north-east, sending a tremendous swell into the harbour, and the Great Eastern began to roll heavily. In this extremity the paddle engines were set going, and the ship was brought up to her anchors, one of which was raised for the purpose of being dropped in a better position. At this moment the cable of the other anchor parted, and the great ship drifted swiftly toward what seemed certain destruction; but the heavy anchor was let go, and the engines turned on full speed. She swung round head to wind, and was brought up. This was the turning-point. The gale slowly abated, and the Great Eastern was saved, while all round her the shores and harbour were strewn with wrecks.

After the gale the Great Eastern started on her return trip to Southampton, which she reached in safety on the morning of the 3rd November. In this, as in her previous experiences, the mighty ship was well tested, and her good and bad points in some degree proved. At the very outset the steam gear for aiding in lifting the anchors broke down, and one of the anchors refusing to let go, was broken in half. The condenser of the paddle engines seems to have been proved too small in this trip. For some time she went against a stiff head-wind and sea—which is now well known to be the great ship’s forte—with perfect steadiness; but on getting into the channel she rolled slowly but decidedly, as if bowing—acknowledging majestically the might of the Atlantic’s genuine swell. Here, too, a wave actually overtopped her towering hull, and sent a mass of green water inboard! But her roll was peculiarly her own, and wonderfully easy.

The vessel made eighteen knots an hour. She was under perfect command, even in narrow and intricate channels, and, despite her varied mishaps and trials, passed through this stormy period of her infancy with credit.

Disaster to “Great Eastern” in September 1861.—Having made three successful voyages to America, the Great Eastern, after all her troubles, was beginning to establish her reputation, to confirm the hopes of her friends and silence the cavils of her enemies, when the bad fortune that has been her portion from the cradle once more overwhelmed her, and shook, if it did not altogether destroy, the confidence in her capabilities which the public had been beginning tardily to entertain.

There is nothing more difficult to ascertain than the true state of the case—with reference to culpability, accidental circumstance, inherent or incidental weakness, negligence, unavoidable risks, etcetera—in such a disaster as that which happened to the great ship in September of 1861. And nothing could be more unfair than to pass judgment on her without a full knowledge of the minute particulars, and, moreover, a pretty fair capacity to understand such details and their various relations. Before proceeding with the narrative of the event referred to, we may remark that while, on the one hand, it may be argued, with great plausibility, that her numerous disasters and misfortunes prove that she is unfitted for the navigation of the sea, it may, on the other hand, be argued, with equal plausibility, that the very fact of her having come through such appalling trials unconquered, though buffeted, is strong presumptive evidence that she is eminently fitted for her work, and that, under ordinary circumstances and proper management, she would do it well. It is believed that any other vessel afloat would have been sunk had she been exposed to the same storm under similar circumstances. It must be borne in mind that, although other vessels weathered the same storm successfully, they did not do so with their rudder and rudder-posts gone, their captains and part of their crews new to them, and their chain cables, cabin furniture, and other material left as totally unsecured as if she had been a river steamer about to start on a few hours’ trip.

On Tuesday the 10th of September the Great Eastern left Liverpool for America with 400 passengers and a large, though not a full, general cargo. Between 100 and 200 of the passengers occupied the berths in the principal cabins; the remainder of them occupied the intermediate and steerage cabins.

All went on prosperously until the Thursday, when, as the ship was in full steam and sail, she encountered a terrific gale about 280 miles to the west of Cape Clear, and, in spite of the best seamanship, she failed to ride over the storm, which, with tremendous fury, swept away both her paddles. Simultaneously the top of the rudder-post, a bar of iron ten inches in diameter, was suddenly wrenched off, and her steering gear being also carried away, she broached to and lay like a huge log in the trough of the sea. From Thursday evening until two o’clock on Sunday, her bulwarks almost touching the water, she rolled about like a disabled hulk, the passengers and crew expecting that she would every moment go down. The working and rolling of the vessel, at one instant of dread, displaced and destroyed all the furniture of the cabin and saloons, and, broke it to pieces, throwing the passengers pell-mell about the cabin. Everything that occupied the upper deck was washed away, and a large part of the passengers’ luggage was destroyed. Between twenty and thirty of those who were on board, including several ladies, had limbs and ribs fractured, with numerous cuts and bruises. One of the cow-sheds, with two cows in it, was washed into the ladies’ cabin, together with other things on board, and caused indescribable consternation and confusion.

On Sunday evening, after two days of terrible suspense, a temporary steering gear was fitted up, and the disabled vessel with her distressed crew made for Cork Harbour, steaming with her screw at nine knots an hour. Her flag of distress was sighted at about three o’clock in the afternoon of Tuesday, off the Old Head of Kinsale, and H.M. ship Advice at once steamed out to her assistance and towed her to within a mile of the lighthouse off Cork Harbour by about nine o’clock.

Such is a general outline of this disaster—one which is rendered all the more remarkable from the circumstance that the vessel had only been recently surveyed by the officers of the marine department of the Board of Trade, when new decks and other requirements were carried out and completed at a cost of 15,000 pounds.

The scene during the storm in the grand saloon, as described in detail by various passengers, was absolutely terrific. None of the furniture had been secured, and when the gale became violent and the rolling of the vessel increased, sideboards, tables, chairs, stools, crockery, sofas, and passengers were hurled with fearful violence from side to side in a promiscuous heap. When it is said that at each roll the top platform of the paddle-boxes dipped into the sea, anyone who has seen the towering sides of the Great Eastern may form some conception of the angle of the decks, and the riot of unfastened articles that continued below during the greater part of the gale. The destruction was universal. The largest mirror in the grand saloon, which was about twelve feet high, was smashed to pieces by a gentleman going head foremost into it. Although much bruised and cut, strange to say he was not seriously injured. The chandeliers fell from the ceiling, and the crashes they made in falling added to the general din. One of the other mirrors was smashed by a large stove. Some of the passengers escaping from the dining-room were dashed against the iron balconies, which gave way with the pressure, and falling on the glass flooring at the sides, dashed it to atoms. The noise and turmoil of destruction below, together with the howling of the tempest above and the dashing of spray over the decks, whence it flowed in copious streams down into the cabins, formed a scene which cannot be fully conceived except by those who witnessed it.

On deck, the confusion was equally great and destructive. Many of the boats were carried away. The great chain cables rolled from side to side, until they were actually polished bright by the friction, while they were a source of perpetual danger to the crew in the performance of their duties. The oil-tanks broke loose, and after tumbling about for a time, fell down through the upper hatchway. And the two cows that fell with their cow-shed down into the ladies’ cabin were killed by the violence of the shock. The chief cook was flung against one of the paddle-boxes, and having put out his hand to save himself, had his wrist sprained. He was then flung towards the other side, and coming against a stanchion in the way, had his leg fractured in three places. One lady had a rib fractured; another her shoulder dislocated; another her wrist. These are only specimens, selected to show what the poor people were subjected to. It is said that there were twenty-two fractures altogether, among passengers and crew, besides innumerable cuts and bruises. The cabins were flooded to the depth of several feet, and broken articles of furniture floated about everywhere. The luggage in the luggage-room, which had not been secured, was hurled about, until trunks, boxes, valises, etcetera, striking against each other, and against the sides of the compartment, were utterly destroyed—the very leather of the trunks being torn into small shreds.

Throughout all this terrible scene, the passengers behaved, with one or two exceptions, admirably. The ladies especially displayed great courage—remaining, in accordance with the desires intimated to them, in their cabins; while the gentlemen did their best to keep order. On the Friday, they appointed a sort of committee or police force, of upwards of twenty strong, who took the duty in turns of going round the vessel, keeping order, carrying information to, and reassuring, the ladies and children. Four only of these, who were called directors, had the privilege of speaking to the captain during the storm—thus saving him from the annoyance of repeated and ceaseless questioning.

The crew also did their duty nobly. Captain Walker acted throughout with calmness, courage, and good judgment; and from the tenor of resolutions passed at an indignation meeting, held by the passengers after their return into port, it would appear that they entirely exonerated him from any blame in reference to the disaster. The fitting up of temporary steering gear, which was begun on the Sunday when the storm moderated, was a work of great difficulty and danger. It was accomplished chiefly through the courage and cleverness of two men—John Carroll and Patrick Grant—who volunteered for it, and were let down over the stern at the imminent risk of their lives; and an American gentleman, Mr Towle, a civil engineer, rendered great assistance in superintending and directing the work.

It was not until two o’clock on Sunday morning that the vessel got up steam in her screw boilers, and steered for Cork Harbour. The whole of the ironwork of both paddle-wheels was carried entirely away. The ladder leading up to the larboard paddle-box was twisted in an extraordinary manner. The boats on the starboard side were all gone, and those on the other side were hanging loosely from their fastenings. Altogether, the great ship presented a most melancholy spectacle as she was towed into port.

At the meeting of the passengers already referred to, the first resolution was expressive of their grateful acknowledgments to Almighty God for his kind care in protecting them during the storm, and bringing them in safety out of their danger. The second condemned the directors, and stated that “the Great Eastern was sent to sea thoroughly unprepared to face the storms which everyone must expect to meet with in crossing the Atlantic; and that, if it had not been for the extraordinary strength of the hull, and the skill which was manifested in the construction of the vessel and its engines, in all human probability every soul on board would have perished.”

It has been said that if the ship had been more deeply laden she would have weathered the gale more easily. This, if true, is an argument in her favour. But in viewing the whole circumstances of this and previous disasters, we cannot avoid being deeply impressed with the fact that the Great Eastern had not up to that time had fair play. In her construction and general arrangements there have been some grave, and numerous more or less trivial errors. From first to last there has been a good deal of gross mismanagement; but the Great Eastern cannot, with justice, be pronounced a failure. Latterly she has done good service in laying ocean telegraph-cables, a species of work for which she is pre-eminently well adapted. It is possible that she may yet live to ride out many a wild Atlantic storm, and perchance become the first of a race of ponderous giants who shall yet walk the deep,—to the utter confusion of timid croakers, and to the immense advantage of the world.

Chapter Fifteen.

Curious Craft of Many Lands

“Many men, many minds,” runs the proverb. “Many nations, many ships,” is almost equally true. A nation may show its individuality in the fashion of its marine architecture as much as in any other direction—as, for instance, in its national dress, dwelling-houses, food, amusements; and an ethnologist in studying a people’s characteristics may do wisely not to overlook its ships and boats.

Even in Europe, where an advanced civilisation may be supposed to be slowly smoothing off national characteristics and peculiarities, and gradually blending and amalgamating diverse national customs, there still exists a considerable disparity in the marine architecture of different states; while between the ships of Europe and those of some parts of Asia the gulf is certainly broad enough, so that about the only point of resemblance between an English ironclad and a Chinese junk is, that both are manifestly better adapted for the sea than the land. We now propose describing some of the more curious craft peculiar to various nations, beginning with Europe:

The Dutch galliot is a somewhat peculiar craft to the eye of an Englishman; heavy and clumsy-looking beyond doubt, but a good sea-boat notwithstanding. The galliot looks much the same, whether you regard her from stem or from stern, both being almost equally rounded. Keel she has scarce any; her floors are flat, hull broad and deep, and rudder very wide. Hung on each side is a large lee-board, to keep her from making too much leeway. Her hull is varnished a bright yellow colour, and shines in the sun. Her bulwarks are lofty; and a wooden house is placed aft, where the captain and his family live, and which is always kept brightly painted. This part of the ship is a remarkably snug place, comfortably furnished, and kept with the characteristic Dutch cleanliness and neatness. Forward is the caboose of the crew, a wide, low, but roomy erection.

The galliot is rigged with square sails on her mainmast, a fore and aft main-sail, a gaff mizzen and mizzen gaff top-sails, and a high bowsprit. Her sails are sometimes white, sometimes tanned. If the reader has ever chanced to enter the port of Rotterdam, he will have encountered plenty of examples of the craft we are describing; and if he did not altogether approve or admire their shape, he must at least have been struck by their remarkable cleanness and brightness. A Dutch galliot may be fifty, eighty, or even a hundred and fifty tons burden. When the Dutch build vessels of a larger size than this, they do so on very similar lines to English merchantmen, though usually somewhat broader and bluffer.

Off the coast of Portugal we meet with many different kinds of craft, of which the trading schooners differ from almost any other kind of vessel. Broad in the beam, and short in the counter, some are rounded at the stem, some nearly square. They are decked, and are from forty to one hundred tons burden. They are peculiarly rigged, having only lower masts stepped at different angles. The gaffs of the fore-sail, as well as the main-sail, can be raised to different heights. They have fore stay-sail, jib and flying jib, gaff top-sails, and a large square sail and square top-sails. On the whole, they are ungainly-looking craft in the extreme; but they are very capable sea-boats, and make voyages as far as South America.

Mr W.H.G. Kingston gives a graphic description of a Portuguese craft which it has never been our fortune to see. He calls it the Lisbon bean-pod, from its exact resemblance to that vegetable, and affirms it to be the most curious of European craft, which we can readily believe. “Take a well-grown bean-pod,” he says, “and put it on its convex edge, and then put two little sticks, one in the centre and one at the bows, raking forward, for the masts, and another in the bows, steeving up, for the bowsprit, and another astern for a boomkin or outrigger, and then you have before you the boat in question.” These boats carry a lateen sail, sail very fast, and are much used on the waters of the Tagus as fishing-boats and trawlers.

Other curious craft to be met with in Europe are the scamparia and felucca of the Mediterranean, the Greek mystico and the trabacalo of the Adriatic. The gondola, than which, perhaps, nothing that floats on the waters is suggestive of more romantic and poetical associations, is so familiar to everybody from pictures, and has so often been introduced into story, song, and narratives of travel, that we shall not pause to describe it.

Passing from Europe to Africa, we note among the craft peculiar to that country the diabiah or Nile boat, a very comfortable travelling boat for warm climates. It is a large boat, and contains a house at one end, in which the passengers sleep at night, or take refuge from the sun’s fierce heat by day.

In Asia a great variety of vessels and boats of various shapes and sizes are met with, to describe all of which would carry us far beyond the space at our disposal. The dhow of the Arabs runs from sixty to a hundred tons, is almost entirely open, and has a sharp pointed bow, projecting for a considerable distance beyond the hull. On the high, broad stern a covered-in poop is placed, containing the quarters of the captain and passengers. The stern is usually ornamented with carving, as English vessels used to be in old days. The dhow carries but one sail, lateen-shaped, and the mast stoops forward at a sharp angle. These craft have not unfrequently been engaged in the nefarious slave traffic carried on on the east coast of Africa.

The catamaran of Madras can only be called a boat on the lucus a non lucendo principle, for it consists simply of three logs placed side by side, pointed at the bows, and kept together by two cross-pieces. Yet this rude raft does good service in its way, being the only means of communication in rough weather between vessels lying off Madras and the shore; for there are no wharves at Madras, and ships are compelled to anchor in the offing. When the sea runs so high that boats of the ordinary kind are useless, the services of the catamarans are gladly enough made use of.

The native boatmen, seated on their log rafts, and quite naked, make their way through the roughest surf to the vessels, carrying messages to and from the land. The rower propels his boat with a rather long paddle. Sometimes he is washed off his catamaran into the sea; but being an expert swimmer, he usually recovers his seat without much trouble, and it rarely happens that any of these men are drowned.

We spoke a little space back of the national characteristics of a people being traceable in its marine architecture as well as in other things, and surely this statement finds abundant illustration in the craft of the Chinese. In China we find an intensely conservative people, and their national bent is undoubtedly indicated in their ships, which in all probability have not altered in any material regard for centuries. A Chinaman would be as slow to change the shape of his junk as his shoes, or the length of his pigtail. And a strange, old-world, semi-barbarous look a Chinese junk has.

Chinese junks vary greatly in size, but all present the same type of architecture. The sails in every case are of brownish-yellow matting, swung across the mast like a main-sail, and having pieces of bamboo placed cross-wise and parallel to each other, making them look somewhat like venetian blinds. These wooden strips both strengthen the sail and facilitate its reefing when lowered.

A large Chinese junk rises high out of the water; there are two or more decks aft above the main-deck, painted and carved with various devices; and the cabins are often luxuriously furnished according to Celestial tastes. If you look at any representation of a junk, you will notice that the rudder is very broad, resembling somewhat the rudder of a canal barge. In spite of its primitive look, it has, after all, something picturesque about it; but we fancy that we would rather contemplate it in a picture than sail in one across the Atlantic.