Perils of the North Sea

1895

Bit of Ocean Full of Anxiety to Passenger and Navigator.

The passage of the North sea, or German ocean — for it is equally well known by both titles — is looked upon with dread by the navigators who have to brave its dangers.

Thu sailors of the North German Lloyd call it the sea of murder in allusion to the marine disasters with which its history bristles. The captain of the liner, whose destination is Liverpool, feels that the perils of his voyage are practically over when he reaches Queenstown. The commanders of the North German Lloyd ships, on the other hand, realize that the most dangerous part of their journey is yet to come, for ahead of them is the narrow and crowded English channel and the equally crowded and tempestuous North sea.

The unruly waters are open to the fierce sweep of the wind that is so dreaded in Europe, that which is from the northeast. Only those who have experienced those marrow chilling, pneumonia breeding blasts can realize their anger and their power. The gulf stream which surges up the channel and around the northern end of the British isles meets the icy current from the arctic regions. Storms, varied by dense fogs, result from this combination.

The east coast of England forms a deadly ice shore for the shipping caught in the prevailing winds. In addition to these natural dangers, the North sea is crossed and recrossed by dozens of steamer "lanes." It is also the seat of the great herring fisheries, with their thousands of smacks and schooners that, lying at anchor here, there and everywhere, are by no means the least of the dangers which menace the navigator. Here, too, there are hundreds of Scotch and English coasting craft, which stand well to sea to avoid the dangers of shore lines, and, lastly, the mouth of the Thames spreads funnellike into the North sea, adding to the total perils with its fleets of incoming and outgoing vessels. — Boston Transcript.

A Funny Surprise

1901

This story is told by a man who dislikes nothing so much as to be asked questions: "My little girl is very fond of seashells," he said, "and, having been called to Atlantic City on business one day, I took advantage of the opportunity to run down to the beach to see if I could pick up a few. I was strolling along the sand, gathering a few shells and pebbles, which I placed in my handkerchief, when along came one of those old idiots who ask questions with their mouths which their eyes could answer.

"He smiled upon me and said: 'Fine day, isn't it? Are you gathering shells?'

" 'No, I snapped back, saying the first thing that popped into my mind; 'I'm looking for a set of false teeth I lost while in bathing.'

"He expressed his sympathy, and then his face lit up as his eye caught sight of a pink and white object on the sand. 'Well, I declare! Here they are now!' he exclaimed, and, sure enough, he picked up a set of false teeth lying right at his feet. I was too surprised to do anything but grab them and put them in my pocket. The funny part of it is that I never had a tooth pulled in my life. I wonder who that false set belongs to." — Philadelphia Record.

Strangely Illuminated

1900

Weird Effect of Phosphorescence on a Ship In Bering Sea

"I have often heard of the wonderful phosphorescence of southern seas," remarked a traveler from the north, "and I have seen some pretty fair samples of it in the Atlantic between New York and English ports but I did not know until recently that it prevailed to any extent in northern waters.

"Last August I was on board a revenue cutter in the Bering sea, about 63 degrees north latitude, bound north, when one night about 10 o'clock I happened to go on deck, and I was almost frightened by the sight of the sea. The wind was blowing sharp enough to raise the whitecaps, and the whole sea looked as if it were lighted from its depths by a million arc lights, throwing their white rays upward and under the flying foam. The hollows of the waves were dark, but every crest that broke showered and sparkled as if it were filled with light. From the sides of the ship great rolls of broken white light fell away, and she left a broad pathway of silvery foam as far back as the eye could reach.

"But about this hour was the most striking display. Here it was as if the ship were plowing through the sea of white light, and as the water was thrown back from her prow it fell in glittering piles of light upon the dark surface beyond and was driven far down below, lighting the depths as if all the electricity of the ocean were shooting its sparkles through the waves and turning itself into innumerable incandescents that flushed a second and then shut out forever. I stood on the forecastle deck looking down into the brilliant white turmoil of the waters until I began to feel as if we were afloat upon some silver sea, and a really uncanny feeling took possession of me. The white ship was lighted by the phosphorescence of the waters, so that as high up as the deck there was a pale, weird white that made one feel as if the 'Flying Dutchman' were abroad upon the seas and had passed by us. The masts towered in ashy gray above the decks, and every rope and line stood out distinctly in the light, but cast no shadow. It was all as ghostly as if we had gone up against the real thing, and it was a positive relief to get back into the wardroom, where there was something more human. I don't know how long it lasted, but when I went to bed at 11 o'clock I could still see the silver shining through the air port in my stateroom." — Washington Star.

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.

Ocean Heart

1907

The throbbing, and vibration of the engines of a modern steamer have a most extraordinary effect upon the human heart.

Let it be said at once that ocean traveling does not in any way injure the heart; on the contrary, it benefits it, with the general health. But the vibration of the machinery is transmitted to this vital organ with the most extraordinary results so far as medical examination is concerned.

A ship's doctor will tell you that when he listens through his stethoscope to the beating of a man's heart at sea it seems as if every moment the heart would stop. With sturdy and invalid passengers it is just the same. The heart appears to the doctor as if every beat would be its last. This being the case, it is exceedingly difficult for the physician to ascertain the true condition of the traveler's health, and he generally resorts to the expedient of slinging his patient in a hammock, where the vibration is considerably lessened, though no device can overcome it altogether. — London Answers.

A Famous Pirate

1916

On the 23d of May, 1706, Captain William Kidd, the famous pirate, was executed at Execution dock, London. Several others of Kidd's company were executed with him. The summary putting to death of these pirates did much to rid the seas of piracy. Kidd, who was the most daring of all the pirates of history, exemplified the worst of his kind.

Although his exploits have been greatly exaggerated, there is no doubt that he was guilty of desperate crimes. His daring led others to emulate him, and the commerce of the world suffered much because of the depredations of the pirates.

England was the principal sufferer at the hands of the high sea raiders, and accordingly England was most interested in their capture. Kidd's execution began a new era of commercial activity on account of the greater security enjoyed by merchantmen on the high seas.

Report Real Sea-Serpent

1905

Rudyard Kipling has seen his second sea serpent, according to a story which comes with some seriousness from Cape Town. People who read Kipling's first sea-serpent story thought it was merely a brilliant piece of fiction. This second sea serpent story is not told by Kipling, but by the skipper of the steamship Armadale Castle. The sea serpent was seen — in fact, it was struck by the ship and probably killed — while the Armadale Castle was on her last voyage to Cape Town, in latitude 3 degrees south. Mr. Kipling was aboard the ship.

Commander Robinson is not sure whether the creature struck was a real sea serpent, a queer whale or a greatly overgrown shark. Whatever it was, the thing was hit by the bow or the ship where, in all properly regulated fishes, the pectoral fin exists. The head was doubled across the port bow and the tail trailed away along the starboard side. The violent struggles of the creature to free itself from its painful and embarrassing position led to its striking the soft brown paint of the "boot-topping" on the ship's side with the powerful fluke of its tail.

This was observed by the boatswain and some of the men who were watching the affair through the side ports immediately over the tail of the fish. The marks enabled the commander afterward to make fairly accurate measurements. From mark to stem it was forty-five feet. In girth it was apparently about the volume of one of the ship's lifeboats at the broadest part, say eight feet in diameter, very gracefully tapering away toward the tail. The body appeared to be of a greenish-brown color with large dark spots all over the back and sides, the lower parts being of a dull white.

It was first observed by one of the seamen, who heard a knocking against the ship's side. When the news was passed along the decks all the passengers, young and old. performed a mad stampede into the forecastle to look at the unhappy prisoner. The engines were stopped as soon as possible and reversed, but fully a quarter of an hour elapsed between the first discovery and the final clearance, by which time the creature was either dead or completely exhausted, for it sank slowly, tail first.

Feared Burial in Trance

1905

Unhappy Existence Led by Victim of Peculiar Disease

"In one of my voyages from Cape Town to England," writes a traveler, "I shared my cabin with a peculiar man, whose name was Lazarus. He made me promise that if he should die during the voyage I would prevent his burial at sea. He said that on a previous voyage he had fallen sick and was taken for dead and put into a sack for burial.

"A quartermaster had been put on to watch the body until it was time for the funeral. When the burial party arrived, the quartermaster informed the captain that he thought the body had moved in the sack. The sack was opened and Lazarus eventually came to life again.

"Such was the story Lazarus told me. Lazarus was a thin man, with a sallow face. He had an enormous appetite and appeared at every meal, to which he devoted his whole energies. The good feeling only seemed to add to his corpse-like appearance.

"One evening, sure enough, when we were about half way to our voyage's end, he apparently died again. The doctors took him in charge this time, however, and he came out of his trance without any shotted-sack episode. He was met at the London docks by a number of relatives and friends, all of whom looked as if they might be suffering from the same complaint."



One of Life's Perplexities

Why People Admire Something Producer Thinks Little Of

He had two lectures. One was dignified, noble, grand, well-pleasing to himself. The other was common, simple, earnest, popular, but thought little of by himself. One of the perplexities of his life was this: Why should the people admire something that he thought little of, and think little of something which he thought so much of? Some thoughts and sermons are for those who create them, and should be kept in a sealed case in the owner's private laboratory. — Earl M. Pratt in "Short Talks."

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.

Animals Board Ship, Seasick

1903

They Get Seasick, Though Not Just the Way Human Beings Do

"Speaking of animals getting sick at sea," said a man who has had some experience with the dumb brutes on the briny deep, "I can tell you that they do get sick, and sometimes they get very sick too. Of course, they do not manifest the sickness in the way that human beings show it and for reasons which will suggest themselves on a moment's reflection. But they nevertheless get quite as sick as members of the human family. Seasickness in human beings will manifest itself in violent vomiting. A seasick person cannot retain anything in the stomach. The old rule that whatever goes up must come down is in the case of pronounced seasickness reversed. Whatever goes down must come up. But when we come to reckon with horses and cows we find a different condition to deal with. Horses and cows never vomit. They cannot. So here right at the beginning of the matter we find a reason for difference in the way this peculiar sickness shows itself in man and beast.

"I have had more experience with horses than with any other kind of dumb animal and consequently know more about the way the horse suffers during seasickness. It is a rather curious and rather interesting fact that the horse is more violently attacked in the feet than in any other portion of the body. I have seen the feet of horses at sea swell until they could scarcely stand on them. Of course, the stomach of the animal is affected to some extent, but this is not so serious a matter as the attack in the feet. The effect of these attacks is sometimes of a lasting kind, and the usefulness of horses is seriously impaired.

"The fact that seasickness attacks the horse in the feet is mainly due to the peculiar influence a vessel's motion has on the kidneys of the animal. At any rate, this is the generally accepted view of the matter. We cannot say definitely just why horses get knotty feet at sea, but the popular view of horsemen who have studied the matter is as stated. As to cows, I do not know a great deal about them, but I understand the chief trouble with them at sea is that they lose their taste for food and quit eating." — New Orleans Times-Democrat.

A Big Refusal — So the Gold Sunk to the Bottom of the Sea

1895

A Case in Which a Good Bargain Might Have Been a Burden

James Clark, of Old Town, Wash., knows a good story in connection with the sinking of the steamship Pacific in the Straits of Juan de Fuca, in 1875, of which the only survivor was Neil Henley, now of Tacoma.

Mr. Henley floated around for hours on a raft after the Pacific was struck by the bark Orpheus. With him on the raft was a man named William Sampson, who became exhausted and sank, Mr. Clark says, with between $10,000 and $12,000 in a belt around his body. The fact that Sampson had the gold on his person was known to Mr. Clark and a few others only, and it has never been published.

Clark and Sampson were miners together on the Yukon river, in Alaska. The mining claim was a rich one, and was known in the Yukon district as the "Three-to-One." It was so called because the party that mined and owned it, was composed of three white men and a Chinese. They returned to Victoria to spend the first winter, after taking out about $5,000 apiece in gold, and the next spring when they went to back to open up the mine again, they found that the flood had swept away all their machinery and they would have to spend a considerable part of the season in making and putting in new machinery to handle the placer deposits. Sampson became discouraged and he sold his share in the diggings to his partners for about $5,000 and returned to Victoria. The "Three-to-One" made money that season the same as the season before.

Shortly after Sampson returned to Victoria he shipped on the steamer Pacific, intending to go to San Francisco He put the gold in a belt around his body, as was the custom in those days. The raft on which he and Henley floated was in reality a chicken coop. Sampson felt he could not last much longer in the heavy sea, which rolled the coop fearfully, and he begged Henley to take the gold. The latter, feeling that he would never set foot on shore again, refused to take the belt, and it went down with poor Sampson to the bottom of the sea. Henley was soon picked up. The next day, though, he regretted the loss of his companion on the chicken coop, he also deplored that he had not taken the proffered belt with its burden of gold.

The Instinct of Birds — A Storm Coming

1901

While a British brig was gliding smoothly along before a good breeze in the South Pacific, a flock of small birds about the size, shape and color of paroquets, settled down in the rigging, and passed an hour or more resting.

The second mate was so anxious to find out the species to which the visiting strangers belonged that he tried to entrap a specimen, but the birds were too shy to be thus caught, and too spry to be seized by the quick hands of the sailors. At the end of about an hour the birds took the brig's course, and disappeared, but toward nightfall they came back and passed the night in the maintop.

The next morning the birds flew off again, and when they returned at noon the sailors scattered some food about the decks. By this time the birds had become so tame that they hopped about the decks picking up the crumbs.

That afternoon an astonishing thing happened. The flock came flying swiftly toward the brig. Every bird seemed to be piping as if pursued by some invisible enemy on wings, and they at once huddled down behind a deck house. The superstitious sailors at once called the captain of the brig, who rubbed his eyes and looked at the barometer. A glance showed that something was wrong with the elements, and the brig was put in shape to outride a storm.

The storm came about 20 minutes after the birds had reached the vessel. For a few minutes the sky was like the waterless bottom of a lake — a vast arch of yellowish mud — and torrents of rain fell. Why it did not blow very hard no one knows; but on reaching port, two days later, they learned that a great tornado had swept across that part of the sea. — Our Dumb Animals.

An Enchanted Cavern – The Beauties of the Grotto of Capri

1887

An Enchanted Cavern

Beauties of the Grotto of Capri — An American Bicyclist's Adventure

Tradition has it that this "Grotta Azzura" was known in the earliest Roman times and then lost again in the Middle Ages, although the knowledge of its existence was preserved at Capri, and that in the last century it was rediscovered through chance — a shipwrecked sailor was dashed through the narrow opening in the cliff; recovered consciousness to find himself in heaven, as he thought — in reality upon a little ledge in the grotto — and escaped by swimming.

Can I not enter swimming when it would be impossible for a boat? The guide says, "No," but will take me out there, and it is worth the attempt; so watch and valuables are left at the hotel and we are off. On the way we meet a party returning, and upon reaching to the cave we find that the entrance, about three feet high and four broad, is filled by every wave and the spray sent dashing up the rocky sea wall I must enter as the wave recedes.

Undressing and leaping into the sea, I was tossed about a little by the waves, my mouth filled with salt water and I almost decided to give it up; but, after holding to the boat for a few moments and hearing the guide expatiate upon the "Grotta Bellissima," decided that I could risk a bit of a knock for the purpose of seeing one of nature's most beautiful creations. The boat was pushed as near as was safe and I made a plunge for the entrance, but just a little too late; I saw that the coming wave would catch me, and fearing a blow on the head — where even the felt hat I wore for that contingency would not have saved me — I dived on the instant, and the wave, coming roaring in, pushed me by its weight into the depths, instead of against the rocks. I think I must have gone down fifteen feet and been under the surface nearly a minute, for I swallowed an immense quantity of the salty fluid before I came up dazed, after a hard struggle, to find myself in smooth water, surrounded by a wonderful, supernatural, blue light, with countless stars gleaming above me. The water is very clear and seems to be fathomless, while my limbs are bright, polished, sparkling silver. Ideas of distance are lost; I can see for miles in every direction, up and down as well, and it is a surprise to me when, after swimming for ten minutes, I find myself at the other end of the grotto.

There was no resting place except a crevice in the rock for the fingers of one hand, and I hung there swinging back and forth and feasting on this wonderful sight — a feast half mingled with - fear as to my safe exit. The entrance appeared hopelessly far away, entirely closed every few seconds by the inrushing water, and then, upon its recession, admitting a ray from the outside world. The impression and experience is, under such circumstances, altogether indescribable and unearthly. After perhaps fifteen minutes I launched out once more, and swam, in fear and trembling, for the entrance; before reaching it two or three big waves came rushing in, tossing the salt spray into my eyes, and accompanied by a cold wind. I approached as near the entrance as I could, waited until a great wave dashed itself with full force into my face, struck out quickly, and, behold, I came out without the slightest trouble and seized the boat before the next wave came! — George P. Fiske, M. D.. in Outing.