Ramsgate, March 26, 1870.
The eye-witness of a battle from an unusual point of view may, without presumption, believe that he has something interesting to tell. I therefore send you an account of what I saw in the Gull lightship, off the Goodwin Sands, on the night of Thursday last, when the Germania, of Bremen, was wrecked on the South-Sand-Head. Having been an inhabitant of the Gull lightship for a week, and cut off from communication with the shore for several days, I have been unable to write sooner.
Our never-ending warfare with the storm is well known. Here is one specimen of the manner in which it is carried on.
A little before midnight on Thursday last (the 24th), while I was rolling uneasily in my “bunk,” contending with sleep and sea-sickness, and moralising on the madness of those who choose “the sea” for a profession, I was roused—and sickness instantly cured—by the watch on deck suddenly shouting down the hatchway to the mate, “South-Sand-Head light is firing, sir, and sending up rockets.” The mate sprang from his “bunk,” and was on the cabin floor before the sentence was well finished. I followed suit, and pulled on coat, nether garments, and shoes, as if my life depended on my own speed. There was unusual need for clothing, for the night was bitterly cold. A coat of ice had formed even on the salt-water spray which had blown into the boats. On gaining the deck, we found the two men on duty actively at work, the one loading the lee gun, the other adjusting a rocket to its stick. A few hurried questions from the mate elicited all that it was needful to know. The flash of a gun from the South-Sand-Head lightship, about six miles distant, had been seen, followed by a rocket, indicating that a vessel had got upon the fatal Goodwins. While the men spoke, I saw the bright flash of another gun, but heard no report, owing to the gale carrying the sound to leeward. A rocket followed, and at the same moment we observed the light of the vessel in distress just on the southern tail of the Sands. By this time our gun was charged, and the rocket in position. “Look alive, Jack! get the poker,” cried the mate, as he primed the gun. Jack dived down the companion hatch, and in another moment returned with a red-hot poker, which the mate had thrust into the cabin fire at the first alarm. Jack applied it in quick succession to the gun and the rocket. A blinding flash and deafening crash were followed by the whiz of the rocket as it sprang with a magnificent curve far away into the surrounding darkness. This was our answer to the South-Sand-Head light, which, having fired three guns and three rockets to attract our attention, now ceased firing. It was also our note of warning to the look-out on the pier of Ramsgate Harbour. “That’s a beauty,” said our mate, referring to the rocket; “get up another, Jack; sponge her well out. Jacobs, we’ll give ’em another shot in a few minutes.” Loud and clear were both our signals; but four and a half miles of distance and a fresh gale neutralised their influence. The look-out did not see them. In less than five minutes the gun and rocket were fired again. Still no answering signal came from Ramsgate. “Load the weather gun,” said the mate. Jacobs obeyed; and I sought shelter under the lee of the weather bulwarks, for the wind appeared to be composed of pen-knives and needles. Our third gun thundered forth, and shook the lightship from stem to stern; but the rocket struck the rigging, and made a low, wavering flight. Another was therefore sent up; but it had scarcely cut its bright line across the sky, when we observed the answering signal—a rocket from Ramsgate Pier.
“That’s all right now, sir; our work is done,” said the mate, as he went below, and, divesting himself of his outer garments, quietly turned in; while the watch, having sponged out and re-covered the gun, resumed their active perambulation of the deck. I confess that I felt somewhat disappointed at this sudden termination of the noise and excitement. I was told that the Ramsgate lifeboat could not well be out in less than an hour. It seemed to my excited spirit a terrible thing that human lives should be kept so long in jeopardy; and, of course, I began to think, “Is it not possible to prevent this delay?” But excited spirits are not always the best judges of such matters, although they have an irresistible tendency to judge. There was nothing for it, however, but patience; so I turned in, “all standing,” as sailors have it, with orders that I should be called when the lights of the tug should come in sight. It seemed but a few minutes after, when the voice of the watch was again heard shouting hastily, “Lifeboat close alongside, sir. Didn’t see it till this moment. She carries no lights.” I bounced out, and, minus coat, hat, and shoes, scrambled on deck, just in time to see the Broadstairs lifeboat rush past us before the gale. She was close under our stern, and rendered spectrally visible by the light of our lantern. “What are you firing for?” shouted the coxswain of the boat. “Ship on the sands, bearing south,” replied Jack at the full pitch of his stentorian voice. The boat did not pause. It passed with a magnificent rush into darkness. The reply had been heard; and the lifeboat shot straight as an arrow to the rescue. We often hear and read of such scenes, but vision is necessary to enable one to realise the full import of all that goes on. A strange thrill ran through me as I saw the familiar blue and white boat leaping over the foaming billows. Often had I seen it in model, and in quiescence in its boat-house—ponderous and ungainly; but now I saw it, for the first time, endued with life. So, I fancy, warriors might speak of our heavy cavalry as we see them in barracks, and as they saw them at Alma. Again all was silent and unexciting on board of the Gull. I went shivering below, with exalted notions of the courage and endurance of lifeboat men. Soon after, the watch once more shouted, “Tug’s in sight, sir;” and once again the mate and I went on deck. On this occasion, the tug Aid had made a mistake. Some one on shore had reported that the guns and rockets had been seen flashing from the Gull and North-Sand-Head lightships; whereas the report should have been, from the Gull and South-Sand-Head vessels. The single word was all-important. It involved an unnecessary run of about twelve miles, and an hour and a half’s loss of time. But we mention this merely as a fact, not as a complaint. Accidents will happen. The Ramsgate lifeboat service is admirably regulated, and for once that an error of this kind can be pointed out, we can point to dozens—ay, hundreds—of cases in which the steamer and lifeboat have gone straight as the crow flies to the rescue, and have done good service on occasions when all other lifeboats would have failed, so great is the value of steam in such matters. On this occasion, however, the tug appeared late on the scene, and hailed us. When the true state of the case was ascertained, the course was directed aright, and full steam let on. The Ramsgate lifeboat, Bradford, was in tow far astern. As she passed us the brief questions and answers were repeated for the benefit of the coxswain of the boat. I observed that every man in the boat lay flat on the thwarts except the coxswain. No wonder. It is not an easy matter to sit up in a gale of wind, with freezing spray, and sometimes green seas, sweeping over one. They were, doubtless, wide awake, and listening; but, as far as vision went, that boat was manned with ten oilskin coats and sou’-westers. A few seconds took them out of sight; and thus, as far as the Gull lightship was concerned, the drama ended. There was no possibility of our ascertaining more, at least during that night; for whatever might be the result of these efforts, the floating lights had no chance of hearing of them until the next visit of their tender. I was therefore obliged to turn in once more, at three a.m. Next forenoon we saw the wreck, bottom up, high on the Goodwin Sands.
On Friday morning, the Alert—tender to the lightships of this district, under command of the Trinity Superintendent, Captain Vaile—came off to us, and we learned the name of the vessel, that she was a total wreck, and that the crew, seven men, had taken to their boat, and succeeded in reaching the South-Sand-Head lightship, whence they were almost immediately after taken by the Deal lifeboat, and safely landed at Deal.
It is to be carefully observed here that, although in this case much energy was expended unnecessarily, it does not follow that it is often so expended. Often—too often—all the force of lifeboat service on this coast is insufficient to meet the demands on it. The crews of the various boats in the vicinity of the Goodwin Sands are frequently called out more than once in a night; and they are sometimes out all night, visiting various wrecks in succession. In all this work the value of the steam-tug is very conspicuous. For it can tow its boat again and again to windward, and renew the effort to save life in cases where, unaided, lifeboats would be compelled to give in. Embarking in the Alert, I sailed round the wreck at low water, and observed that the Deal luggers were swarming round her like flies; the crews stripping her bottom of copper, and saving her stores, while, apparently, hundreds of men were busy upon her deck dismantling her shattered hull.
This, after all, is but an insignificant episode of wreck on the Goodwins. Many wrecks there are every year much more worthy of record; but this is sufficient to give a general idea of the manner in which our great war with the storm is conducted—the promptitude with which relief is rendered, and the energy with which our brave seamen are ready to imperil their lives almost every night, all round the coast, and all the year round.
Chapter Eight.
Docks and Shipbuilding.
Having in the previous chapters treated of the subjects of ancient navigation and ships, and given some account of the boats of the present time, we now proceed to write about modern ships. In doing so, let us turn our attention first to:—
The Dockyard.
If we were a maker of riddles, we would ask our reader, “Why is a ship like a human being?” and having added, “D’ye give it up?” would reply, “Because it commences life in a cradle;” but not being a fabricator of riddles, we don’t ask our reader that question. We merely draw his attention to the fact that ships, like men, have not only an infancy, but also have cradles—of which more hereafter.
Let us enter one of those naval nurseries—the dockyard—where ships may be seen commencing their career. What a scene it is! What sawing and thumping, and filing, and grinding, and clinching, and hammering, without intermission, from morn till noon, and from noon till dewy eve! What a Babel of sounds and chaos of indescribable material!
That little boy whom you observe standing under the shadow of yonder hull—his hands in his pockets (of course), his mouth open (probably), and his eyes gazing up fixedly at the workmen, who cluster like bees on the ribs and timbers of yonder infant ship has stood there for more than an hour, and he will stand there, or thereabout, for many hours to come; for it happens to be a holiday with him, and he dotes on harbours and dockyards. His whole being is wrapped up in them.
And this is natural enough. Most boys delight to gaze on incomprehensible and stupendous works. Let us—you and I, reader—follow this urchin’s example, keeping our mouths shut, however, save when we mean to speak, and our eyes open.
There are ships here of every shape and size—from the little coasting-vessel to the great East Indiaman, which, in its unfinished condition, looks like the skeleton of some dire megatherium of the antediluvian world. Some of these infant ships have an enormous shed over them to protect them from the weather; others are destitute of such protection: for ships, like men, it would seem, are liable to vicissitudes of fortune. While the “great ones” of the dockyard world are comfortably housed, the small ones are not unfrequently exposed to the fitful buffeting of the rude elements even from their birth.
There are ships here, too, in every state of progression. There, just beside you, is a “little one” that was born yesterday. The keel has just been laid on the blocks; and it will take many a long day of clinching and sawing and hammering ere that infant assumes the bristling appearance of an antediluvian skeleton. Yonder is the hull of a ship almost completed. It is a gigantic infant, and has the aspect of a very thriving child. It evidently has a robust constitution and a sturdy frame. Perhaps we may re-visit the dockyard to-morrow, and see this vessel launched.
Besides these two, there are ships with their ribs partially up, and ships with their planking partially on; and in a more distant part of the yard there are one or two old ships hauled up, high and dry, to have their bottoms repaired and their seams re-pitched, after many a rough and bravely-fought battle with the ocean waves.
Now that we have gazed our fill at the general aspect of the dockyard, let us descend a little more to particulars. We shall first tell of the:—
Nature and Use of Docks.
There are two kinds of docks—dry and wet. A dry-dock is usually constructed with gates, to admit or shut out the tide. When a ship arrives from a long voyage, and needs repair to the lower part of her hull, she must be got out of the water somehow or other.
This object is frequently attained in regard to small vessels by simply running them gently on the flat sand or mud beach of a bay or harbour, so that, when the tide retires, they shall be left dry. But it would be dangerous as well as inconvenient to do this with large ships, therefore dry-docks have been constructed for this purpose. They are so built that when the tide is full the dry-docks are also full. When thus full of water, the gates of a dry-dock are opened, and the large ship is dragged slowly in, after which the gates are shut. The tide then retires, leaving it in this basin of water. The ship is then propped up on all sides with timbers, in such a way that she stands upright, “upon an even keel,” and thus, the pressure on her hull being equally distributed, she is not damaged. Then the water is let out by means of sluices in the gates, or it is pumped out, and the ship left dry. When the tide returns, the gates and sluices are all shut, and its entrance into the dock prevented, until such time as the ship is repaired, when water is let slowly in. As the vessel floats, the props and supports fall away, the gates of her hospital are opened, and off she goes again, in all the vigour of recruited health, to wing her way over the billows of the great deep.
A wet-dock is somewhat similar to a dry-dock, the chief difference being that ships while in it are kept floating in water.
Docks are not only used, however, for repairing and building ships. They are also used for loading and unloading them; and as ships are entering and departing from them almost constantly, the busy, bustling, active scene they present is always agreeable.
The principal docks in the United Kingdom are as follows:—
Docks on the Thames—namely, East and West India Docks, London Docks, Saint Katherine’s Docks, Commercial Docks, Victoria Docks.
Southampton Docks.
Liverpool and Bristol Docks.
Hull Docks.
Glasgow Docks.
Dundee Docks.
Leith Docks.
Birkenhead Docks.
So much for docks in passing. Let us now turn our attention to the process of:—
Building a Ship.
As we think it highly improbable that any of our readers intend to become either ship-carpenters or ship-architects, we will not worry them with technical explanations. To give an easily understood and general idea of the manner of building a ship is all we shall attempt. The names of those parts only that are frequently or occasionally referred to in general literature shall be given.
The term ship is employed in two significations. In familiar language it denotes any large or small vessel that navigates the ocean with sails. In nautical language it refers solely to a vessel having three masts, each consisting of a lower-mast, a top-mast, and a top-gallant-mast. At present we use the term ship in the familiar sense.
Elaborate and complicated drawings having been prepared, the shipbuilder begins his work.
The keel is the first part of a ship that is laid. It is the beam which runs along the bottom of a boat or ship from one end to the other. In large ships the keel consists of several pieces joined together. Its uses are, to cause the ship to preserve a direct course in its passage through the water; to check the leeway which every vessel has a tendency to make; and to moderate the rolling motion. The keel is also the ground-work, or foundation, on which the whole superstructure is reared, and is, therefore, immensely strong and solid. The best wood for keels is teak, as it is not liable to split.
Having laid the keel firmly on a bed of wooden blocks, in such a position that the ship when finished may slide into the water stern foremost, the shipbuilder proceeds next to erect the stem and stern posts.
The stem-post rises from the front end of the keel, not quite perpendicularly from it, but sloping a little outwards. It is formed of one or more pieces of wood, according to the size of the ship; but no matter how many pieces may be used, it is always a uniform single beam in appearance. To this the ends of the planks of the ship are afterwards fastened. Its outer edge is called the cut-water, and the part of the ship around it is named the bow.
The stern-post rises from the opposite end of the keel, and also slopes a little outwards. To it are fastened the ends of the planking and the framework of the stern part of the ship. To it also is attached that little but most important part of a vessel, the rudder. The rudder, or helm, is a small piece of timber extending along the back of the stern-post, and hung movably upon it by means of what may be called large iron hooks-and-eyes. By means of the rudder the mariner guides the ship in whatever direction he pleases. The contrast between the insignificant size of the rudder and its immense importance is very striking. Its power over the ship is thus referred to in Scripture,—“Behold also the ships, which, though they be so great, and are driven of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm, whithersoever the governor listeth.” The rudder is moved from side to side by a huge handle or lever on deck, called the tiller; but as in large ships the rudder is difficult to move by so simple a contrivance, several ropes or chains and pulleys are attached to it, and connected with the drum of a wheel, at which the steersman stands. In the largest ships two, and in rough weather four men are often stationed at the wheel.
The ribs of the ship next rise to view. These are curved wooden beams, which rise on each side of the keel, and are bolted firmly to it. They serve the same purpose to a ship that bones do to the human frame—they support and give strength to it as well as form.
The planks follow the ribs. These are broad, and vary in thickness from two to four inches. They form the outer skin of the ship, and are fastened to the ribs, keel, stem-post, and stern-post by means of innumerable pins of wood or iron, called tree-nails. The spaces between the planks are caulked—that is, stuffed with oakum; which substance is simply the untwisted tow of old and tarry ropes. A figure-head of some ornamental kind having been placed on the top and front of the stem-post, just above the cutwater, and a flat, ornamental stern, with windows in it to light the cabin, the hull of our ship is complete. But the interior arrangements have yet to be described, although, of course, they have been progressing at the same time with the rest.
The beams of a ship are massive wooden timbers, which extend across from side to side in a series of tiers. They serve the purpose of binding the sides together, of preventing them from collapsing, and of supporting the decks, as well as of giving compactness and great strength to the whole structure.
The decks are simply plank floors nailed to the beams, and serve very much the same purposes as the floors of a house. They also help to strengthen the ship longitudinally. All ships have at least one complete deck; most have two, with a half-deck at the stern, called the quarter-deck, and another at the bow, called the forecastle. But the decks of large ships are still more numerous. Those of a first-rate man-of-war are as follows—we begin with the lowest, which is considerably under the surface of the sea:—
The Orlop-deck, the Gun-deck, the Middle-deck, the Upper-deck, the Quarter-deck, and the Poop—the latter deck being the highest deck of all, a very small one, at the stern.
Thus a man-of-war is a floating house with six stories—the poop being the garret, and the orlop-deck the cellars. The upper decks are lighted by sky-lights; those farther down by port-holes (or gun-holes) and windows; the lowest of all by candles or lamps, daylight being for ever banished from those gloomy submarine regions!
The bulwarks rise above the upper-deck, all round the ship, and serve the purposes of protecting the upper-deck from the waves, and supporting the belaying-pins, to which the ropes are fastened. In ships of war the top of the bulwarks forms a sort of trough all round the ship, in which the hammocks (the swinging-beds) of the men are stowed away every morning. This trough is termed the hammock-nettings, and the hammocks are placed there to be well aired. In action the bulwarks serve to protect the crew from musketry.
The wheel, which has been already referred to, stands usually at the stern of the ship, on the quarter-deck; but it is sometimes placed on an elevated platform amid-ships, so that the steersman may see more clearly where he is going.
The binnacle stands directly in front of the wheel. It is a species of box, firmly fixed to the deck, in which is placed the compass. It is completely covered in, having a glass window, through which the man at the wheel can observe the course he is steering.
The capstan stands on the main-deck, sometimes near the centre of the vessel, at other times near the bow or the stern. It is a massive block of timber moving on a pivot, which is turned round by wooden levers, called capstan bars, or hand-spikes, and is used for any purpose that requires great tractive power—the drawing in of the cable, for instance, or warping the ship; which means that a rope is fixed on shore, or by an anchor to the bottom of the sea, and the other end of it is coiled round the capstan, so that when the capstan is forced round by the handspikes, the rope coils on to it, and the ship is slowly dragged forward.
The windlass is simply a horizontal, instead of a perpendicular capstan. Its sole purpose is for heaving up the anchor, and it is placed close to the bow of the ship.
The galley, or cooking-house, is usually near to the windlass, in the front part of the vessel. Here the cook reigns supreme; but this nautical kitchen is wonderfully small. It is just big enough to hold the fireplace and “coppers,” with a small shelf, on which the cook (always a man, and often a negro) performs the duties of his office.
The various decks below are partitioned off by means of plank walls, which are called bulk-heads, into a variety of berths and apartments; and the greater part of the centre of the vessel (in merchantmen) is called the hold, and is reserved for cargo.
The hull of the ship being finished, now gets a coat of tar all over it, which preserves the wood from the action of the weather, and helps to render the seams water-tight. Some vessels are sheathed from the keel to a short way above their water-line with thin sheets of copper, to preserve them more effectually from tear and wear, and especially to defend them against those barnacles and marine insects that would otherwise fasten to them.
Being now ready to be launched from her cradle into the sea—her future home—we will proceed in our next chapter to describe the process of launching.
Chapter Nine.
The Launch, etcetera.
Ships begin life with a retrograde movement; they imitate the crabs: in other words, they are launched stern foremost. Whether great or small, long or short, whether clothed in patrician copper or smeared with plebeian tar, they all start on their first voyage with their stern-posts acting the part of cut-water, and, also, without masts or sails. These necessary adjuncts, and a host of others, are added after they have been clasped to the bosom of their native sea. One notable exception there is to this rule, the launch of the far-famed Great Eastern, which monster of the deep was forced into her element sidewise, of which a full account will be found in another part of this volume.
The cradles on which ships are launched are wooden frameworks, so constructed as to slide down an inclined plane, called the ways, bearing their burdens along with them into the water. When a ship is ready for launching, the shores, or supports, that have kept her so long in position are knocked away one by one, until the entire weight of the ship rests on the cradle. The ways are then well greased, and it only remains to knock away one or two remaining checks to allow the vessel to seek her future home by means of her own weight.
But before this last act is done, a day must be fixed for the launch; friends of the owners must be invited to go on board during this her first voyage; a fair maiden must be asked to go through the ceremony of giving the ship her name; and paragraphs must go the round of the newspapers. As the hour draws near, crowds of human beings, young and old, male and female, must hurry to the spot to witness the great event, and hundreds of little boys must beg leave from school (if they can); in short, a great stir must be made, and a great day must dawn, before the last shores are knocked away, and the noble structure be permitted to rush down that inclined plane, and for the first time cleave the waves.
And now, having shown how the launching of our ship is accomplished, let us turn to consider the next step towards completion; for there is yet much to be done ere she is able to brave the tempest.
Rigging a Ship.
Although fitting-in the lower-masts of a ship cannot well be deemed a part of the rigging, we will nevertheless describe the operation here.
As the lower-masts of a large ship are from five to six feet in circumference, it is manifest that some powerful mechanical contrivance is required to raise them over the bulwarks, and put them in an upright position, into their appointed places. Such contrivances, in the form of enormous cranes, are fixed in some of the larger docks; but the most useful method is to have the masts put in by means of:
The Shear Hulk. This is a strongly built hull of a ship, moored in a part of a river or harbour that will afford depth of water to float vessels of any size alongside. It has one stout mast, with two immense beams attached to it near the deck, and sloping outwards over the bulwarks in such a way that their ends overhang the deck of the vessel into which masts are to be placed. These sloping beams are prevented from falling overboard altogether, and their slope is regulated, by blocks and tackles from the mast of the hulk. By means of this contrivance, which is just a gigantic floating crane, the ponderous lower-masts of large ships are raised and lowered into their places.
When these are fixed, the rigging of the ship commences. The method of putting it up cannot prove interesting to general readers; not even to boys, for when they take to rigging model ships, they do not require the mechanical contrivances that are necessary in rigging large vessels. But all readers of sea stories and nautical history will find it of the utmost advantage to their clear understanding of what they read, to have a general idea of the names and uses of the principal parts of a ship’s rigging.
We shall, therefore, devote a small space to the explanation of this subject. And, first, let us examine the Masts.
These vary in size, form, and number in different ships, but in all they serve the same purpose—to support the sails. Lower masts of large vessels are never formed out of one tree. They are found to be stronger when built up of several pieces, which are fastened together by strong iron hoops. Masts sometimes consist of three distinct parts. The lower-mast, top-mast, and top-gallant-mast. In most large ships there are three masts, each having three parts. The centre mast, being the largest, is the main-mast; the front one, which is next in size, is the fore-mast; and the one next the stern, the smallest, is called the mizzen.
Although we have spoken of lower-masts for the sake of clearness, the name is never used. The name of the mast itself designates the lower part of it. To name the masts in order, we have the Fore-mast. Main-mast. Mizzen-mast. Fore-top-mast. Main-top-mast. Mizzen-top-mast. Fore-topgallant-mast. Main-topgallant-mast. Mizzen-topgallant-mast.
The parts of the different masts are connected and secured by means of cross-trees and caps, which are named after the mast and part of the mast to which they belong. Thus we have the fore-top, the fore-top-mast cross-trees, the main-top, and main-top-mast cross-trees, etcetera. Observe, particularly, that the fore-top, main-top, and mizzen-top, are the platforms, or cross-trees, at the tops of the lower-masts, and not—as might well be supposed by landsmen—the extreme tops of these masts. The button-like objects on the summits of the masts are called the trucks; which, besides forming a sort of finish to them, are fitted with small pulleys, through which signal-halyards, or cords for hoisting the flags, are rove.
In first-rate men-of-war the tops are so large that a number of men can be stationed on them. Besides their other purposes, they are very frequently used as a place of punishment for the midshipmen, or “middies” (the boy officers), who are often sent there to air themselves, and profit, if they can, by calm reflection in exalted solitude.
Shrouds and stays are the thick ropes that keep the masts firmly in position. They form part of what is termed the “standing gear” of a ship—in other words, the ropes that are fixtures—to distinguish them from the “running gear”—those movable ropes, by means of which the sails, boats, flags, etcetera, are hoisted. Nearly all the ropes of a ship are named after the mast, or yard, or sail with which they are connected. Thus we have the main shrouds, the main-top-mast shrouds, and the main-topgallant shrouds; the main back-stay, the main-topgallant back-stay, and so on—those of the other masts being similarly named, with the exception of the first word, which, of course, indicates the particular mast referred to. The shrouds rise from the chains, which are a series of blocks called “dead eyes,” fixed to the sides of the ship. To these the shrouds are fixed, and also to the masts near the tops; they serve the purpose of preventing the masts from falling sideways. Backstays prevent them from falling forward, and forestays prevent them from falling backward, or “aft.” Besides this, shrouds have little cross ropes called ratlines attached to them, by means of which rope-ladders the sailors ascend and descend the rigging to furl, that is, tie up, or unfurl, that is, to untie or shake out, the sails.
Our cut represents a sailor-boy ascending the mizzen-top-mast shrouds. He grasps the shrouds, and stands on the ratlines.
Yards are the heavy wooden cross-poles or beams to which the sails are attached.
Reef-points are the little ropes which may be observed hanging in successive rows on all sails, by means of which parts of the sails are gathered in and tied round the yards, thus reducing their size in stormy weather. Hence such nautical expressions as “taking in a reef,” or a “double reef,” and “close reefing,”—which last implies that a sail is to be reduced to its smallest possible dimensions. The only further reduction possible would be folding it up altogether, close to the yard, which would be called “furling” it, and which would render it altogether ineffective. In order to furl or reef sails, the men have to ascend the masts, and lay-out upon the yards. It is very dangerous work in stormy weather. Many a poor fellow, while reefing sails in a dark tempestuous night, has been blown from the yard into the sea, and never heard of more. All the yards of a ship, except the three largest, can be hoisted and lowered by means of halyards. The top-gallant masts can also be lowered, but the lower-masts, of course, are fixtures.
The bowsprit of a ship is a mast which projects out horizontally, or at an angle, from the bow. It is sometimes in two or three pieces, sometimes only in one. To it are attached the jib-sail and the flying-jib, besides a variety of ropes and stays which are connected with and support the fore-mast.
The cat heads are two short beams which project from the bows on either side, and support the ship’s anchors.
Miscellaneous.—The openings in the decks are called hatches; the stair-cases which descend to the cabins are called companions. The pulleys by which sails, etcetera, are hoisted, are named blocks. Braces are the ropes by which sails are fixed tightly in any position. Hauling a rope taut, means hauling it tight. The weather side of a ship means the side which happens to be presented to the wind; the lee side, that which is away from the wind, and, therefore, sheltered. The starboard side means the right side, the larboard signifies the left; but as the two words resemble each other, the word port is always used for larboard to prevent mistakes in shouting orders. Heaving the lead is the act of throwing a heavy leaden plummet, with a line attached, into the sea to ascertain its depth. It is thrown from the chains as far as possible ahead of the ship, so that it may reach the bottom and be perpendicularly beneath the man who heaves it when the ship comes up to the spot where it entered the water. A peculiar and musical cry is given forth by the heaver of the lead each time he throws it. The forecastle is the habitat of the ordinary sailors, and is usually in nautical parlance termed the foge-s’l.
Most of what we have just described applies more or less to every ship; but this will be seen in future chapters. Meanwhile, we would seriously recommend all those who have found this chapter a dry one to turn back to the heading entitled “Rigging a Ship,” and from that point read it all over again with earnest attention.
Chapter Ten.
Coasting Vessels.
The coasting-trade of the British Islands is replete with danger, yet it is carried on with the utmost vigour; and there are always plenty of “hands,” as seamen are called when spoken of in connection with ships, to man the vessels. The traffic in which they are engaged is the transporting of the goods peculiar to one part of our island, to another part where they are in demand.
In describing these vessels, we shall begin with the smallest.
Sloops.
Like all other vessels, sloops vary in size, but none of them attain to great magnitude. As a class, they are the smallest decked vessels we have. From 40 to 100 tons burden is a very common size. A sloop of 40 tons burden is what we ordinarily call a little ship, and one of 100 tons is by no means a big one. The hull of such a vessel being intended exclusively to carry cargo, very little space is allowed for the crew. The cabins of the smaller-sized sloops are seldom high enough to permit of an ordinary man standing erect. They are usually capable of affording accommodation to two in the cabin, and three or four in the forecastle,—and such accommodation is by no means ample. The class to which vessels belong is determined chiefly by the number of their masts and by the arrangement and the form of their sails.
The distinctive peculiarity of the sloop is, that it has but one mast; and its rig is, nautically speaking, fore-and-aft—that is to say, the sails are spread with their surfaces parallel to the sides of the vessel, not stretched upon yards across the vessel. The term “fore-and-aft” is derived from the forward part and the after part of the ship. Fore-and-aft sails, then, are such as are spread upon yards which point fore and aft, not across the ship. We conceive this elaborate explanation to be necessary for some readers, and, therefore, don’t apologise for making it. A ship whose sails are spread across the hull is said to be square-rigged. Sometimes, however, a sloop carries one and even two square sails.
The masts, yards, and sails of a sloop are as follows:— As has been already said, one of the distinctive peculiarities of a sloop is, that it has only one mast. This mast is sometimes formed of one stick, sometimes of two; the second, or top-mast, being fastened to the top of the lower mast by cross-trees and cap, in such a way that it may be hoisted or lowered at pleasure. A sloop has usually four sails,—a mainsail, fore-sail, gaff, and jib. The main-sail is behind the lower mast. It reaches from within a few feet of the deck to the top of the lower mast, and spreads out upon two yards towards the stern or after part of the ship, over which it projects a few feet. The lower yard of the main-sail is called the boom, and the upper the main-sail yard. This is by far the largest sail in the sloop. Above it is spread the gaff, which is comparatively a small sail, and is used when the wind is not very strong. The fore-sail is a triangular sheet, which traverses on the fore-stay; that is, the strong rope which runs from the lower mast-head to the bow, or front part of the sloop. On the bowsprit is stretched the jib, another triangular sail, which reaches nearly to the top of the lower mast. The only sail that rises above the lower mast is the gaff. In stormy weather this sail is always taken down. If the wind increases to a gale, the jib is lowered and lashed to the bowsprit.
Should the gale increase, a reef is taken in the main-sail. One, two, three, and sometimes four reefs are taken in, according to the violence of the storm; when the last reef is taken in, the sloop is under close-reefed main-sail. Increased violence in the storm necessitates the taking in of the main-sail and lying-to under the fore-sail, or a part of it. Lying-to is putting the sloop’s head to the wind, and placing the helm in such a position that it tends to turn the vessel in one direction, while the gale acting on the fore-sail tends to force it in another, and thus it remains stationary between the two opposing forces. Many vessels thus lie-to, and ride out the severest storm. Sometimes, however, a dreadful hurricane arises, and compels vessels to take in all sails and “scud under bare poles”—that is, drive before the wind without any sails at all; and it is at such seasons that man is forced to feel his utter helplessness, and his absolute dependence on the Almighty. Of course, there are slight variations in the rig of sloops—some have a square-sail, and some have a flying-jib; but these are not distinctive sails, and they are seldom used in small craft.
Doubtless, those of our readers who have dwelt on the sea-coast must have observed that boats and vessels frequently sail in precisely opposite directions, although acted upon by the same wind. This apparent paradox may be explained thus:—
Suppose a vessel with the bow and stern sharp and precisely alike, so that it might sail backwards or forwards with equal facility. Suppose, also, that it has two masts exactly the same in all respects—one near the bow, the other near the stern. Suppose, further, a square sail stretched between the two masts quite flat; and remember that this would be a fore-and-aft sail—namely, one extending along the length, not across the breadth of the vessel.
Well, now, were a breeze to blow straight against the side of such a vessel, it would either blow it over, flat on its side, or urge it slowly sideways over the water, after the fashion of a crab. Now remove one of these masts—say the stern one—and erect it close to the lee-side of the vessel (that is, away from the windward-side), still keeping the sail extended. The immediate effect would be that the sail would no longer present itself flatly against the wind, but diagonally. The wind, therefore, after dashing against it would slide violently off in the direction of the mast that had been removed, that is, towards the stern. In doing so it would, of course, give the vessel a shove in the opposite direction; on the very same principle that a boy, when he jumps violently off a chair, not only sends his body in one direction, but sends the chair in the opposite direction. So, when the wind jumps off the sail towards the stern, it sends the ship in the opposite direction—namely, forward. Reverse this; bring back the mast you removed to its old place in the centre of the deck, and shift the front mast near to the lee-bulwarks. The wind will now slide off the sail towards the bow, and force our vessel in the opposite direction—namely, backward; so that, with the same side wind, two ships may sail in exactly opposite directions.
By means of the rudder, and placing the sails in various positions, so as to cause them to press against the masts in a particular manner, vessels can be made to sail not only with a side wind, but with a breeze blowing a good deal against them—in nautical phraseology, they can be made to sail “close to the wind.” In short, they can sail in every direction, except directly in the “teeth” of the wind. Some ships sail closer to the wind than others; their powers in this respect depending very much on the cut of their sails and the form of their hulls.
The Lighter is a small, rough, clumsy species of coasting-vessel, usually of the sloop rig. It is used for discharging cargoes of large vessels in harbours, and off coasts where the depth of water is not great. Lighters are usually picturesque-looking craft with dingy sails, and they seldom carry top-sails of any kind. Being seldom decked, they are more properly huge boats than little ships. But lighters are not classed according to their rig,—they may be of any rig, though that of the sloop is most commonly adopted.
The Cutter.
This species of vessel is similar, in nearly all respects, to the sloop; the only difference being that it is better and more elegantly built. Gentlemen’s pleasure yachts are frequently cutters; but yachts may be of any form or rig—that is, they may belong to any class of vessels without changing their name of yacht. Cutter-yachts are much more elegantly moulded and rigged than the sloops that we have just described. They are clipper-built—that is, the hull is smoothly and sharply shaped; the cut-water, in particular, is like a knife, and the bow wedge-like. In short, although similar in general outline, a cutter-yacht bears the same relation to a trading-sloop that a racer does to a cart-horse. Their sails, also, are larger in proportion, and they are fast-sailing vessels; but, on this very account, they are not such good sea-boats as their clumsy brethren, whose bluff or rounded bows rise on the waves, while the sharp vessels cut through them, and often deluge the decks with spray.
In our engraving we have several cutter-rigged yachts sailing with a light side wind, with main-sail, gaff, fore-sail, and jib set.
The Schooner.
This is the most elegant and, for small craft, the most manageable vessel that floats. Its proportions are more agreeable to the eye than those of any other species of craft, and its rig is in favour with owners of yachts,—especially with those whose yachts are large. The schooner’s distinctive peculiarities are, that it carries two masts, which usually “rake aft,” or lean back a good deal; and its rig is chiefly fore-and-aft, like the sloop. Of the two masts, the after one is the main-mast. The other is termed the fore-mast. The sails of a schooner are—the main-sail and the gaff, on the main-mast; the fore-sail, fore-top-sail, and fore-top-gallant-sail (the two last being square sails), on the foremast. In front of the fore-mast are the staysail, the jib, and the flying-jib; these last are triangular sails. If a schooner were cut in two in the middle, cross-wise, the front portion would be in all respects a sloop with a square top-sail; the stern part would also be a sloop, minus the bowsprit and the triangular sails before the mast. Schooners sometimes carry a large square-sail, which is spread when the wind is “dead aft.” They are much used in the coasting-trade; and one of their great advantages is that they can be worked with fewer “hands” than sloops of the same size.
The Brig.
Advancing step by step in our investigation of the peculiar rig and build of ships, we come to the brig. This species of craft is usually, but not necessarily, larger than those that have been described; it is generally built on a larger scale than the schooner, and often approaches in magnitude to the full-sized, three-masted ship.
The distinctive features of the brig are, that it has two masts, both of which are square-rigged. It is a particularly serviceable species of craft, and, when of large size, is much used in foreign trade.
The advantage of the square-rig over the fore-and-aft rig is, that the sails, being smaller and more numerous, are more easily managed, and require fewer men or “hands” to work them. Thus, as we increase the size of our vessel, the more necessity is there that it should be square-rigged. The huge main-sail of the sloop and schooner could not be applied to large vessels; so that when men came to construct ships of several hundred tons burden, they were compelled to increase the number of masts and sails, and diminish the size of them; hence, probably, brigs were devised after schooners. The main-mast of a brig is the aft one.
The sails are named after the masts to which they are fastened,—namely, the main-sail; above that the main-top-sail; above that the main-top-gallant-sail; and sometimes a very small sail, named the royal, is spread above all. Behind the main-sail there is a small fore-and-aft sail similar to the main-sail of a schooner, which is called the boom-main-sail. On the fore-mast is a similar sail, which is called the try-sail. Attached to the respective yards of square-rigged ships there are smaller poles or arms, which can be pushed out at pleasure, and the yard lengthened, in order to receive an additional little sailor wing on each side. These wings are called studding-sails or stun-sails, and are used only when the wind is fair and light. They are named after the sails to which they are fastened; thus there are the main-stun-sails, the main-top-stun-sails, and the main-top-gallant-stun-sails, etcetera. The fore-mast of a brig is smaller than the main-mast. It carries a fore-sail, fore-top-sail, fore-top-gallant-sail, and fore-royal. Between it and the bowsprit are the fore-stay-sail, jib, and flying-jib. The three last sails are nearly similar in all vessels. All the yards, etcetera, are hoisted and shifted, and held in their position, by a complicated arrangement of cordage, which in the mass is called the running-rigging, in contradistinction to the standing-rigging, which, as we have said, is fixed, and keeps the masts, etcetera, immovably in position. Yet every rope, in what seems to a landsman’s eye a bewildering mass of confusion, has its distinctive name and specific purpose.
Brigs and schooners, being light and handy craft, are generally used by pirates and smugglers in the prosecution of their lawless pursuits, and many a deed of bloodshed and horror has been done on board such craft by those miscreants.
The Brigantine.
The rig of this vessel is a mixture of that of the sloop and brig. The brigantine is square-rigged on the fore-mast, and sloop-rigged on its after or mizzen mast. Of its two masts, the front one is the larger, and, therefore, is the main-mast. In short, a brigantine is a mixed vessel, being a brig forward and a sloop aft.
Such are our coasting-vessels; but it must be borne in mind that ships of their class are not confined to the coast. When built very large they are intended for the deep ocean trade, and many schooners approach in size to full-rigged “ships.”