The Elbe's Captain In a Fog

1895

"I have crossed the ocean 40 times," said Mr. Gustav Bowman, proprietor of the Holland House, to a friend recently, "and during all of my voyages I have never been really anxious about the safety of the ship excepting twice. One of these occasions was during a voyage I once made on the Elbe. We had been running along in the fog for two days and were approaching the Needles at the time. The captain had been unable to take an observation during the two days, and of course could not tell exactly where we were.

"The doubt and uncertainty concerning our whereabouts greatly disturbed my peace of mind. I knew we must be near the dangerous coast, and that we might be run down at any moment by a steamer or ship. I stood chatting with some of my friends about our helpless condition, when the captain came along and said:

" 'Why don't you gentlemen go down to dinner?'

" 'We have been so busy discussing our voyage in the fog and wondering at what moment we shall be sent to the bottom that we have forgotten all about dinner,' I replied.

" Will it relieve your minds, gentlemen,' continued the captain, 'if I tell you that between a quarter to 9 and 9 o'clock tonight we will sight land?'

" 'Of course it will,' we replied in chorus. We did not take very much stock in what he said, but we knew that he was one of the best captains on the Atlantic.'

" ' You can now go down to dinner with contented minds,' laughed the captain as he left us.

"We took the captain's advice, and, sure enough, at the very time he predicted the fog cleared away, and land was sighted. To my mind it was the best illustration of a captain's sense of location I have ever known." — New York Herald.


Trivia

Fast days, whenever appointed by the president of the United States, are legal holidays in all the states.

Admiral Christopher Newport gave a name to the Rhode Island city.

The British museum has coins or medals of every Roman emperor.

Whistling Buoys

1900

Valuable Aids to Navigation and Repairers Keep Them In Tune

One of the most interesting aids to navigation is the whistling buoys. There are several of them off the cape, and their dull, hoarse groaning may often be heard for miles.

They are clumsy affairs of steel, ranging in length from 30 to 35 feet, with an air tank shaped like a pear about 10 feet high and 9 feet in diameter from which an 18 inch pipe 20 feet long protrudes.

These buoys may be seen at the lighthouse department storehouses on Diamond island, where buoys of all kinds and shape are kept ready to be placed over some rock dangerous to navigation or to replace any which may be damaged or adrift.

This long pipe which runs down into the water is what furnishes the power for the whistle.

When the buoy is in the water, the rolling of the waves up through pipe and the pressure on the air in the tank forces it out through the whistle, and the well-known dismal sound is the result.

Whistle buoys in different ports of the coast are given a different pitch in order that the mariner may, on a thick night be able to know his locality by the difference in the sound.

It is the duty of the officers to adjust the pitch of these whistles when they get out of tune, And they have become so expert at it that they can detect and remedy the slightest variation from the correct pitch.

The adjustment of these whistles must be made while they are in place, and sometimes the great necessity of the marks on dangerous rocks obliges the men on the buoy boats to make these repairs in very rough weather.

The repairing crew usually includes the mate and one man, who are rowed up to the buoy until they are able to grasp the rings on the side and clamber up over the side to the cage which protects the whistle.

Perhaps the most dangerous duty which falls to the lot of the buoy tenders is that of replacing the heavy buoys during a storm or while a heavy sea is running.

With the steamer rolling her rails under the greatest care must be taken to avoid accident, and many are the stories of narrow escapes related by strong, rugged men who perform this dangerous work. — Augusta (Maine) Journal.

Fastnet Lighthouse — First Glimpse of Great Britain

1896

A Welcome Gleam to the East-Bound Atlantic Voyager

The first glimpse of Great Britain that the American tourist gets on his European tour is that of the Fastnet lighthouse.

It stands on a rugged and solitary rock, situated nine miles south of Crookhaven, at the extreme southwest corner of Ireland, and is, perhaps, more storm-beaten than any other around our coast. The rock is eighty feet in height, and the lighthouse towers another seventy feet above, yet, in winter gales, the Atlantic billows literally bombard the massive structure and have even smashed in a portion, of the lantern at the summit of the erection, the seas frequently sweeping over the rock with tremendous force.

Some two or three years ago the stormy weather then prevailing prevented all communication with the rock for many weeks, so that the store of food was consumed, with the exception of some flour. At last a schooner managed to approach sufficiently near to enable a small quantity of food to be dragged through the sea by the hungry men, and, fortunately, the next day the sea moderated, and the stores were once more fully replenished.

Except in very calm weather, the Fastnet is surrounded by a fringe of foam, and the only means of landing is by the aid of a "jib" fifty-eight feet in length, so placed on the rock that, in moderate weather, its end reaches outside the surf. When a visitor wishes to land (an unusual occurrence) he is rowed in a small boat as near as the waves permit, and the light-keepers throw out a small buoy, attached to a rope, which is secured by the man in the boat. The jib is then swung out, and the visitor, placing one foot in the loop and catching tight hold of the rope, is hoisted about forty feet vertically, and then the jib, being pivoted at its foot, swings him horizontally about 100 feet on to a safe landing. — London Sketch.

The Great Sargasso Sea

1896

Sailors have always been superstitious fellows. No wonder, then, that the ignorant sailors of Columbus, anxious for some excuse to turn back to Spain, believed the "sargasso sea" — that tangled mass of seaweeds in mid-Atlantic — was a trap set by Providence to catch them. Science to-day analyzes and explains all such natural phenomena once deemed supernatural. What is it that causes that mysterious sargasso sea?

Simple enough. The rotation of the earth, the rush of the tides, the steady winds unite to cause a vast surface current in tropical waters, moving at about ten miles an hour from east to west, known as the equatorial current. This, in the Atlantic Ocean, feeds the Gulf Stream, which then is shifted by the contour of the North American continent out across the Atlantic to warm the outlying shores of Northern Europe and only spend itself away on the frozen borders of Franz Josef Land. What results? An eddy. Put a few bits of wood in a basin of water and stir the water till it acquires a circular motion. The bits of wood will all collect in the center of the whirling mass.

So the Atlantic Ocean is one great eddy, and the sargasso sea is only the center of it. A "marine meadow," the Spaniards first called this stagnant water. Later it came to be called the sargasso or sargassoa sea, from the Spanish word sargazo, meaning seaweed. Here the seaweed detached from the bottom of the ocean collects, buoyed up by peculiar little air-cells.

Woe to the ship that wanders into the meshes of this great net, six times as big as all France. The same conditions that produce the great sargasso sea of the Atlantic make similar eddy-spots in various regions of the Indian and Pacific Oceans, though much smaller. The Chinese, always ready to utilize whatever is at hand, use the sargasum weed as a food, and as such it is both palatable and nutritious. — Pathfinder.

Woman May Fly Ocean

1914

Miss Ruth Bancroft Law and her brother, F. Rodman Law, are to try a flight across the Atlantic in a biplane. They expect to make the trip in July.

"The flight will be from Newfoundland to the Irish coast," said Miss Law today, "and I shall take my brother. I do not think there is the slightest doubt that we can do it. We shall carry no pontoons or boats, but under the wings of our machine we will have three floats of hollow tin, so in case of a fall the apparatus will float.

"Boats would be too heavy to carry, and in case we fell they would be of no use in the ocean. Then, again, by not carrying them we get away from just so much weight. We shall have to carry from 90 to 100 gallons of gasoline, and this will be enough for about 30 hours flying. We expect to make 100 miles an hour on our way across. Lord Northcliffe has offered a prize for the successful flight across the Atlantic, and we are after it."

With Heaps of Wool, They Spin It by Hand

They Spin by Hand

1896

The hum of the spinning wheel is still a familiar sound in Block Island, quaint and interesting resort in summer and a miniature world in winter, in which the habits and customs are those of one hundred and fifty years ago. The island is fifteen miles off the Rhode Island shore and almost directly south of stormy Point Judith.

The heads of thirty Block Island families set sail in fishing boats the other day and pushed up the Thames River to Oakdale, where they left heaps of wool to be carded into rolls for hand spinning. The rolls will be spun and knitted into stockings and mittens for the protection of the hardy islanders against the bleak winter winds of the Atlantic.

There are times during the winter when the wind sweeps across the treeless land at a velocity of eighty-four miles an hour, and women take their lives in their hands when they venture out of doors. The isolation of the island is almost complete.

John Schofield established the first woolen mill in Connecticut near Oakdale, where the carding was done by power cards. In 1798 the Block Islanders began to send wool to the mill to be carded into rolls, and generation after generation have kept up the practice. Formerly many bags of grain accompanied the wool, and grist and woolen mills were kept running day and night, while the fishermen and farmers enjoyed themselves in the quiet Connecticut village until the work was done. — New York Herald.