Early California Ships

1895

How Commerce Grew In the Early Days of the Golden State.

The first European vessel to enter this port (San Francisco), of which there is any record, was the Eagle, in 1816, commanded by Captain William H. Davis. She sailed from Boston via the Sandwich Islands and Alaska. She brought an assortment of goods which were a revelation to the natives, and their garments of skins and hides were substituted by the clothing of civilization. Payments were made in hides, tallow, soap and fish. The Eagle then became engaged in the sea otter trade and was very successful, as otters were plentiful in this bay and all along the coast. She made three trips, netting about $25,000 on each trip. This stimulated others, and this discovery no doubt gave an impetus to commerce which made this port known to the world.

Commerce in those days of manna was carried on in what might be termed a "free and easy" manner. On many articles the duty was 100 per cent, which practically amounted to confiscation or made smuggling necessary in self defense. The Mexican officials generally opened the door. Frequently vessels were permitted to pass Monterey, the port of entry, coming to Yerba Buena, and after selling as much of the cargo as possible to return to Monterey for entry and dispose of the remainder.

The shippers were not sworn as to the value of the cargo. They gave fictitious invoices, and by this means would got off on the payment of $5,000 on a $20,000 cargo.

It became so customary to swindle the government as scarcely to excite comment, except in cases where goods were concealed in false linings of the vessels, and the government officials were outwitted. — Overland Monthly.

The Naming of the Dolphin

1895

An old story, but not a bad one, was told the other day by an officer of the navy who heard the argument repeated in it. While General Arthur was president, and during one of the summers of his administration, he was on board of the Dispatch at Newport, and Secretary of the Navy Chandler was pestering him to consent to naming the new dispatch boat, afterward the Dolphin, the Concord, after the first battle of the Revolution. General Arthur was disposed to quiz Chandler about his proposed name. He preferred the name Dolphin as being more suggestive of speed at sea. When Chandler argued the importance of keeping in mind the heroic resistance of the colonial militia and the brilliant opposition offered to Pitcairn's men, General Arthur asked him:

"What is it that you propose to call this ship?"

"The Concord," answered Chandler, giving the approved New Hampshire pronunciation.

"There," retorted Arthur, inviting the attention of Captain Reeder. "Do you hear that? Conquered. Do you think that a good name to give a ship-of-war? Then suppose you change the pronunciation and call it Concord, just as spelled. Does it not strike you, Chandler, that there is a degree of Concord in the presence of a vessel of war?"

The new ship was called the Dolphin, but the Concord appeared after General Arthur had ceased to have influence in naming the ships of the navy. — New York Times.

Boards By a Wine Cask

New York, 1895

A Strange Incident While Lying to In a Storm Off Cape Horn.

City Physician Wheeler has two bottles of claret of uncertain age and still more uncertain flavor, which he delights in offering to his friends, not because of the fine quality of the wine, but because it gives him a chance to tell again a story of the sea that is a little out of the ordinary. The claret is put in lime bottles, such as may be found aboard any long voyage vessel, and while its most pronounced flavor is a cross between lime juice and salt water there is still a "smack" in it that reminds one that it must have been at one time prime "stuff." Dr. Wheeler was presented with the bottles by Captain Dexter of the British ship Samaritan, which recently left this port in cargo for Liverpool, and the captain told the following story of how he came by them:

"In the fall of 1893 we were bound from Liverpool to Shanghai in ballast and were nearing the Horn when a big storm overtook us. We hove to and drifted about 1,000 miles offshore. The storm was one of the worst I have over experienced in 20 years of seafaring life, and one dark night, when big seas were breaking over us, a big, burly fellow from the forecastle came aft, knife in hand, and walked directly up to me. I thought for a minute that mutiny was aboard, and drawing my revolver ordered him to stand back. But I soon saw he was terribly frightened, and, with chattering teeth, he told me that a frightful looking object was floundering about amidships.

"I went with him to see it, and, sure enough, whenever a wave struck us a huge black body, glowing in the phosphorescent blaze of the tropics, could be seen floundering about on deck. I soon ascertained that it was lifeless and then proceeded to investigate. It proved to be nothing but a huge wine cask, every stave of which was incrusted with barnacles, and it had probably been left on dock by a receding wave. Visions of dead bodies buried at sea in casks loomed up before me as I lashed the trophy to the rigging to await daylight before investigating.

"When the storm cleared away, I tapped the cask, and by means of a long iron rod ascertained that there was nothing but liquor in it. I drew off some of the stuff and tried it on two Portuguese sailors aboard. They pronounced it prime, so we all took a taste. After that I drew off all the wine and stored it in these lime bottles, the only thing I had handy. The cask I placed in the British museum at Shanghai, for it was a real curiosity. The chances are that cask of claret was thrown overboard from some wreck, and it must have floated about in midocean for three or four years at least before it came aboard of us. Barnacles do not form on floating wood in less time than that, and the cask was so covered with them that not a bit of the wood was visible." — Portland Oregonian.

The Ship's Bell

1895

An Old Soldier's Reminiscence of a Companion In the Civil War.

"I was in the land service," said an old soldier, "but everything about the naval service has always had the greatest fascination for me, perhaps on account of the fact that my regiment, like many another, for that matter, had more or less of service on the coast or by navigable waters, within sight or sound of gunboats. I think the landsman generally when he first hears the sound of a ship's bell is pretty sure to be struck by it, even more than by the sound of the ship's cannon, for cannon speak alike on land and sea, but there is a distinctly salty flavor about the ship's bell, and one soon comes to like it very much.

"The sight of the gunboat by day is cheerful, but the sound of the ship's bell at night is more cheering still. Time and again, on guard at night, I have listened for the bell. I met, to be sure, at either end of the post the man on the next post, yet all the camp was asleep, and the sound of the bell was a welcome companionship. It meant that somebody was up on the gunboat, too, and not only up, but alert. The ship may not be visible, but the exact striking of the hours means presence, readiness and power. And what's this it strikes? Seven belle. Half past 3, and you smile a little as you think that at eight bells comes the relief.

"It maybe that you are on picket, far from the camp, with its friendly suggestion of support even though it be asleep, with the other men on post sleeping now, and yourself alone, meeting at the ends of the little beat you pace no one. Then, through the darkness and stillness comes, doubly welcome now, the sound of the ship's bell, distant, but heard." — New York Sun.

No Romance In It

1895

NO MUSIC OR HORNPIPE IN THE LIFE OF THE MODERN SEAMAN.

Bitter Disappointment Followed an Investigation — Sailors Who Work, Eat and Sleep and Are Devoid of All Ambition. A Hard and Hopeless Life.

My earliest and strongest impressions of seafaring life were gained by watching the evolutions of her majesty's ship Pinafore while she lay in the dry dock in Philadelphia, and although my ideals have been somewhat shaken by seeing the deck-hands of the transatlantic steamers I retained the notion that the counterpart of my old friends would be found aboard sailing vessels. But that dream is over. The first shock came soon after leaving port, when I told the captain that he was to teach me how to dance the hornpipe. He said that he didn't know how, and, moreover, had never seen any one who did. I replied that I was not from the country, but he solemnly assured me that he was telling the truth and called upon the second mate to bear him witness. The latter, after much reflection, recollected that he had once known a sailor who could dance a hornpipe, but couldn't remember whether it was on a voyage to the East Indies or while he was "in steam" on the Mississippi. Further inquiry proved that no one else had over witnessed such a performance.

This was not the most bitter disappointment, however. I am not a great lover of music, but it seemed to me to be a necessary part of a sailor's existence that he should scamper merrily about and pour forth the gladness of his heart in song. To be sure, they do make a noise when they pull on the ropes and occasionally burst into a dirge while at pumps, but to both of these performances the cry of the penguin is cheerful by comparison.

Indeed I have come to the melancholy conclusion that the flavor of romance evaporated with the first generation of seamen. There is none of that picturesque idleness which I was led to believe was as essential as the song and dance. Were one of them to write his daily life it would be expressive of more energy than Mark Twain's famous diary, but would partake of the same simplicity. It would read, "Worked, ate and slept." Work begins when they are driven aboard by their respective keepers and ceases when the vessel arrives at her destination, so that the time occupied in eating and sleeping is their only respite. In heavy and squally weather there is also constant pulling of sails. It is then that their abilities in that monkeylike accomplishment of climbing the riggings are tested. As you stand on deck in a heavy gale and watch all hands upon one of the yardarms furling a sail you begin to put some faith in Darwin's theory concerning the origin of mankind. In fine weather their duties are of a different sort. They then turn painters, carpenters and jacks of all trades. "Holy stoning," scraping, painting and varnishing go on until the ship looks as if she were just off the drydock.

Sometimes in an idle moment or in a fit of temporary insanity a sailor decides to wash a shirt or a red bandanna. One day during a heavy rain this madness became epidemic, and after closing the "scuppers" all hands got upon the deck and proceeded to wash their clothes with a small piece of soap with a large question mark.

Were they as well treated on all vessels as they were on The Standard they might possibly learn to take care of themselves when ashore. It is indeed a case of out of the frying pan into the fire, for when they escape from the rule of more or less severe shipmasters they have not the sense to keep out of the way of boarding house runners and the like. If they would only keep their wits about them and make up their minds to defend themselves in an honest way, they could not fail to better their condition. They sometimes entertain themselves by shirking work at the latter part of the passage and by damaging the rigging just before saying farewell.

They never lose the sheeplike appearance with which they come aboard, going about in a flock at the beck and call of the officers. The watch may be forward pulling at some ropes when they hear, "Come aft, two o' yer!" and immediately replying, "Come aft, two o' yer!" they shuffle in a body in that direction. In nothing are sailors more obliging than in regard to their names. It matters not what they are called — Tom, Dick, Harry — all are the same to them as long as each has a separate one. When two happen to claim the same name on their arrival, each trios to outdo the other in nobly sacrificing it to his companion. Truly they are believers in the poetical theory concerning the rose and can see nothing in a name.

Bringing up the rear in the ship's company came the animals. Besides a pig we left port with an army of chickens, cats and rats, of which the latter were by far the most numerous. The chickens went all too soon, the cats departed save two, but the rats remained faithful to us. The surviving cats were natives of Boston and showed a great fondness for baked beans and brown bread. It was just as well that their comrades did not live, for they were all possessed with hearty appetites and doubtless would have proved a very severe tax upon our supply of provisions. When the bell sounded, these creatures appeared from their various nooks and corners to demand a meal in as many different keys. — Edward Porter in Philadelphia Times.

A Storm on the Pacific

1895

The captain of a San Francisco tug thus describes a storm on the Pacific:

"When I say that the waves ran mountain high, I am not exaggerating the situation in the least. The tug would be poised on the crest of a sea and then be plunged down into a valley of water which seemed a mile below us. At times the moon would come out through the clouds, and in the uncertain light the waves seemed twice as high. The wind was blowing a perfect hurricane, and our lee rail was under water all the time. The angry sea appeared raging above, below and all around us, and nearly every wave into which we dipped would wash over the tug. It was impossible to remain aft, for the lower deck was flooded."

A Bridge of Bad Luck

New York, 1895

The bridge over Newtown Creek at Hunter's Point was knocked out of place on New Year's day by the ship Eurydice. Traffic across the structure was suspended, and it was turned so that navigation would not be interrupted. On Monday the four-masted ship Lansing, in tow, swung against the bridge and smashed it some more. While assisting in clearing away the wreckage George Crane, of Long Island City, had his left hand badly crushed. On the Greenpoint side a large opening along side the iron railing of the bridge was unprotected. John Holmes a blacksmith, walked through the opening on Monday night and fell into the creek. He stuck in the mud and called feebly for help. Policeman Bowes dragged Holmes out of the creek.

—The Long Island Farmer, Jamaica, N.Y., Jan. 11, 1895, p. 1.

Gulls Perched on Cedars

1895

The captain of a steamer that plies along the New England coast, and that was passing one of the rugged, lonely islands off the Maine shore, pointed to an enormous flock of gulls that whitened the rocks, the surface of the sea and the branches of the cedars that cling to the hard soil. "There," said he, "what do you think of that? And yet if you turn to a book on natural history they'll tell you that gulls won't perch on trees. Some fool sailors believe that the petrels, or Mother Caray's chickens, never alight, even on the water, but are always on the wing. They don't use their eyes. And some of these scientific fellows are as bad as the sailors." — Lewiston Journal.

From The Black Forest

1895

Wild Boar and Boarhounds for Austin Corbin's Game Park.

Six passengers on board the North German Lloyd steamship Scandia which arrived at her pier in Hoboken on Monday were neither seasick nor homesick on the voyage. One of them was a wild boar, who thrived on the kitchen slops, and the others were young boarhounds, who learned German and chased each other around the decks. The wild boar came from the Black Forest in Germany. He and the hounds were consigned to Austin Corbin, and they will be sent to his game park, Blue Mountain Forest, in New Hampshire. Mr. Corbin has enough wild boars roaming around his park now to relieve the monotony of the landscape, but he has been unable to capture any of them for breeding purposes.

The boar that arrived on the Scandia is about half grown. He suggests a big gray rat old in wickedness, but the ship's butcher, who has taken care of him, says that he has behaved like a perfect gentleman. He grunts like an ordinary pig and his appetite, too, suggests that animal. He has been confined in a large wooden box with bars across the front. The crew paid him a lot of attention, and he grunted his thanks for anything eatable from potatoes down.

He didn't hold a candle in popularity, however, to the five young boarhounds. They were permitted to roam on deck in pleasant weather and every one made friends of them. They still have much to learn, but they are not a bit proud. When the butcher talks German to them they wag their tails and mind. Several men offered them good advice in English and they ignored it. — Sun.

England Makes Apology

1916

Washingon, Sept. 20 -- Great Britain today formally expressed to the United States regret for the action of a British destroyer in holding up and examining the Philippine steamer Ceb within the territorial waters of the Philippines.

Because of a heavy fog, it was explained, the destroyer's commander did not know the vessel was so near shore.

In the absence of Ambassador Spring Rice, Colville Barclay, counsellor of the British Embassy, called at the State Department at the request of Sec. Gray and presented the explanation and expression of regret. Department official said later the incident was regarded as closed.

Iceland Ship Arrives

1916

New York, Sept. 23. — The Gullfoss, said to be one of the first Icelandic ships to visit the shores of the western hemisphere since the days of Leif the Lucky, tied up in New York harbor yesterday with a cargo of herring. Aboard the Gullfoss, a little steamer of 886 tons, is a crew of Icelandic sailors, officered by Icelandic navigators, and speaking virtually the same language that Leif, son of Eric the Red, spoke when he landed at Cape Cod about the year 1000. The ship is under command of Captain Sigurdur Pjeturssen, who told of the remarkable prosperity that has come upon Iceland since the European war started.

The Gullfoss brought twenty-eight passengers, mostly merchants, from Reykjavik, the capital, and other cities, who came to buy goods in American markets. On its return trip, the first of next month, the Gullfoss will pass a sister ship, the Gothaloss, bound for New York with a cargo of fish. Captain Pjeturssen said he hopes to see established a regular trade with the United States. The two vessels are owned by the Icelandic Steamship company. They sail under the Danish flag.

Amazingly high prices for products of the island have brought prosperity in the last two years, the captain said. The war created the first millionaires in Iceland, he declared, and also gave the island its first experience with labor troubles and other disorders of modern civilization. A strike of the fishermen's union on the island lasted throughout last summer.

54 Hits in 58 Shots by the U. S. Ship Florida

1916

Norfolk, Sept. 23. — Fifty-four hits in 58 shots with 12 inch guns is said to be the record established by the battleship Florida, in the Atlantic fleet's individual target practice at short and intermediate ranges off the Virginia coast this week. Officers tonight predicted that this record would put the Florida at the top of the gunnery list by a wide margin.

The fleet came into Hampton Roads tonight for the week end. The records of the various battleships are not available, but it is known the Texas made the second best showing and the Wyoming was third. The Pennsylvania, Oklahoma and Arkansas, the newest superdreadnaughts, have not yet finished their initial firing.

Practice will be completed next week and the ships will proceed then to their home stations for repairs, preparatory to winter maneuvers in the tropics.

Cockroach Derby Excites "Rookies"

1916

HERB ROTH'S "ATTABOY" IS EASY WINNER.

Runs the Two-yard Course in Two fifths of a Second — A Classy Brute.

BOSTON, Massachusetts, (Aboard the U. S. S. Kentucky). — "Attaboy," the pride of Herb Roth's string of racing cockroaches, won the two-yard championship on a recent afternoon from a field composed of Dal Dawkins' "Hammock King," J. W. Bailey's "Ditty Box Bill," Herbert Reed's "Mess Jumper," Albert Schedy's "Scamperer" and a half dozen others. Practically all of the civilian volunteers and many of the regular crew witnessed the speed contests and the bookmakers did a thriving business.

It was thinness which finally resulted in victory for the Roth string. Hawkins had starved his roaches for two days in preparation for the big race, but some miscreant broke into the stables and fed them, so that they were a bit leggy at the start and not much interested in the mince pie which awaited them at the finish, while Roth's "Attaboy," ravenous, covered the two yards in two-fifths of a second.

The overfed condition of Hawkins' string resulted in all his entries running last, while Bailey's "Ditty Box Bill" and Reed's "Mess Jumper" were a bad second and third to the winner.

"Attaboy" is a magnificent brute, standing nearly three-quarters of an inch high at the withers and weighing not less than ten milligrams.

These cockroach races have proved so interesting a divertissement that it is proposed to arrange intership contests.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 7.

Boston to Junk Heap.

1916

PORTLAND, Oregon — The United States cruiser Boston, of the famous White Squadron, and a participant in the battle of Manila Bay, is to be taken from Portland to the navy yard within a week and sold to the highest bidder for junk.


There's nothing like a heart-ache for reducing weight.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 11.

Sea Lions Helped to Detect U-Boats

1919

Design of Hydrophone Was Changed to Resemble Head of Acute Water Animal.

In the late months of the war some wild stories were published to the effect that the British naval authorities were training sea lions to catch German submarines. Of course this was ridiculous, but the story was based upon a fact, and that fact has only just been revealed.

It was at the recent meeting of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, when Sir Charles Parsons, the president, delivered an address on "Science in War and Peace." In it he described the development of the binaural hydroplane, with which submarines are located by the sound they make. Early in the game it was discovered that the first forms of these instruments were useless when the vessel bearing them was in motion or when the sea was rough, because the noises made by the vessel's motion and by the waves drowned the noise of the submarine. This is where the sea lions came in.

Hear at Six Knots an Hour.

Sir Richard Paget, the eminent biologist, made experiments to learn how far these interesting animals could hear under water and at what speed their directional hearing ceased. These proved that the directional hearing of the lions was good up to six knots an hour.

Dr. Arthur Keith informed the naval experimenters that whales' ears are too small to receive sound waves in the usual way, but that the animals heard under water by the transmission of sound waves thru the bones of the head.

Design Was Changed.

Now, the whale's organ of hearing resembles the hydrophone. So the design of this was changed, and those used in the last year of the war were hollow bodies in the form of fish or porpoises, made of celluloid, varnished canvas or thin metal, filled with water and towed by the ship. The hydrophone was fixed in the head, and the towing cable carried the insulated wire leads to the telephone receivers of the observer on board the vessel.

These were towed some distance behind the ship, thus losing most of the noises made by the swift motion of this, and it was found that they registered directional sounds when traveling thru the water at speeds of fourteen knots and at considerable distances.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 9.

A Formidable Navy

1901

Morocco has the smallest navy in the world. It consists of just one vessel — the Hassani. Until recently the peculiar feature of this warship was that it had no guns, but the sultan, Abdul Asiz, has now purchased at Cadiz four of the lightest pieces of ordnance left to Spain by the United States at the close of the war and has had them mounted. He is thoroughly satisfied that in the event of war with any of the powers the "reorganized" navy would be able to sweep the seas. — Philadelphia Record.

Steal Gold Cargo

1919

Scrap Iron Is Found in Boxes Packed With $50,000.

SAN FRANCISCO, California — A box supposed to hold $25,000 in gold coin shipped by the Anglo and London Paris National Bank of San Francisco on the liner Korea Maru Aug. 2 was found to contain scrap iron and metal washers when opened by the consignee in Hong-Kong, according to advices received by the bank and steamship company.

The bank, acting as agent for a New York firm, packed two boxes, each containing $25,000 in gold and the correctness of the shipment was certified to by three trusted employes.

Both boxes were put in the strong room of the steamship, but only one of them arrived at its destination with gold in it.

Officials of the bank said they believed the substitution of scrap iron for the gold was either made on board the steamer or after the consignment reached Hong-Kong.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1920, p. 7.

Bold Pirates Attack Ships Near Mexico

1920

Modern Red Rovers Recall Days of Captain Kidd — U. S. May Act to End Ravages

Buccaneers and pirates are swarming in the Pacific off the west coast of Mexico — freebooters in high leather boots, who swear terrible oaths and carry huge swords. Just as if they had stepped out of the pages of story books or had come to life again from the days of Captain Kidd, these marine highwaymen are waging their nefarious trade much as did the pirates of the old Spanish Main. From Mazatlan the Mexican government has dispatched a naval expedition equipped for two months' service and which it is hoped will be able to rout the outlaws.

From time to time into the ports on the Pacific coast of the United States, in the places where sailormen gather, there have come rumors of these bands of pirates. Mostly they have been put down to overindulgence in forbidden liquor or a desire to shine in the spotlight with wild and improbable tales. But now the discovery has been made that these pirates actually are infesting the seas and the stories that once were sneered at or dismissed with a pitying smile are avidly listened to.

Small Vessels Their Victims

In wild and almost inaccessible caves on the lonely islands off the Mexican coast these buccaneers have their hiding places. Tramp steamers, coastwise trading vessels and sailing ships with small crews are their victims. They appear at the break of dawn, sail boldly up to their prey, swarm over the sides, battle the crews and loot the ships. Then they sail away with their holds loaded with booty, to hide it in their caves until a favorable opportunity presents itself to smuggle the loot into the United States at some lonely point on the coast or into one of the less usually watched parts.

Who are these men and where do they come from? They do not seem to belong to any one nationality. Americans, Europeans, Mexicans, a Jap and a Chinese or two — these make up the motley crew of the pirate ships, according to J. C. Robinson, who recently arrived at San Francisco, Cal., with a thrilling tale of his capture and his adventures at the hiding place of the gang.

Pirates Overcame Crew

"They took me off the sailing ship Marie Penman," says Robinson. "I had stood my watch and was in my bunk in the forecastle. I learned afterward there had been a battle on deck and that the pirates had overcome the crew, but I was so tired I didn't hear any of the noise of the scuffle. The first I knew was when I was roughly shaken and awoke to find a pirate holding me by the shoulder. I rubbed my eyes and believed that I was dreaming, because he looked just like the pirates of whom I had read in my boyhood days. But I quickly saw that it was no dream, for I was jerked to my feet and ordered on deck.

"There the pirate chief, a big, black-mustached man who wore big boots to above his knees, carried a huge cutlass and swore the most blood-curdling oaths, put me to work helping transfer some of our cargo to the pirate ship. I was frightened and I worked hard, and when the pirates left they took me with them. Why I do not know.

"A day or two later we made port in a lonely island. I haven't the least idea where it was. The pirate ship just sailed straight toward it, and just when I was beginning to think that we were going to bump square into a huge cliff an opening appeared and our ship twisted through it into a little bay. Back in the edge of the hills, a half mile from the sandy shore where we landed the cargo, there was quite a settlement of these pirates. Evidently the ship which had attacked the Marie Penman was only one of several pirate vessels.

U. S. May Take Action

"They didn't pay much attention to me — just let me run around and do what I wanted to. I heard a lot of their plans, ate with them, slept with them and it seemed they had forgotten I did not belong to the band. When the chief who had captured me sailed away the next time he took me along. We raided a small schooner, and when the pirate ship was leaving I managed to remain aboard the schooner, upon which I worked my way back to a port in Lower California, from which I worked my way to Frisco." Robinson has been asked to tell his story to Navy officials, who say that if such a pirate nest exists the United States may take a hand in helping to wipe it out.

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Jan. 3, 1900, p. 1.

Treasures of the Sea

1903

The sea around the shores of Greece is full of treasures. A little time ago the divers were bringing up the statues lost when the ship which was taking them to Rome was wrecked over 2000 years ago. Now the relics of the battle of Navarino, which was fought in 1827, are being fished up, and a number of old bronze cannon, swords, guns and pistols have been recovered from the Turkish and Egyptian ships. — Tit-Bits.


Household Sermons

The best sermons that ever were written to make men good husbands were written to recipes. — New York Press.

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.