Presently the shipping world arrived at the awakening period of its history, when steamers of from 350 to 500 feet long, and of from 4,000 to 7,000 tons, began to be common; but old stagers shook their heads, and asked where and when this enlargement was going to stop. Time went on, and splendid mail boats, such as the Cunard Scotia and Persia, in their day considered perfect, were looked upon as obsolete, and even their successors, the Servia, 7,392 tons and 515 feet long, the Etruria, 7,718 tons and 502 feet long, and others of similar dimensions, soon ceased to be wondered at. This was eighteen years ago. Then, by leaps and bounds, so great was the competition between the different Atlantic liners, and so strong the demand for speed, that 10,000 tons was soon reached in the White Star Company’s Majestic and Teutonic, and exceeded by the Cunarders, Campania and Lucania (1893), of 13,000 tons each, 620 feet in length, and over 65 feet in beam.
But Harland and Wolff, of Belfast, who had been building 12,000 ton boats, metaphorically without “turning a hair,” were determined not to be beaten, and produced their new Oceanic (1899), 704 feet by 68 feet, i.e. nearly as long as the Haymarket, and about as broad as one portion of Piccadilly. In her, it was thought, finality had been reached; but last year Belfast witnessed the launch of a still bigger vessel, the Cedric, 21,000 tons gross register, 700 feet long, and 75 feet wide—the largest steamer afloat! Even she is destined to take second place, as ere long two ships belonging to the Cunard Line will dispossess the Cedric of her premier position. These wonderful creations will be 750 feet by 76 feet, with an estimated sea-speed of 25 knots.
Thus we clearly see how enormously the dimensions of steamers have increased; for instance, the Britannia (1840) was 1,154 tons, and 207 feet long, and had accommodation for 115 cabin passengers, no “steerage” being carried. But the Cedric is nearly 3½ times longer, and carries 3,000 people across the Atlantic, besides her crew of 350 hands. In the same ratio of progression, ships (they will not be called steamers, but electrofers) 2,500 feet long, with comfortable quarters for 75,000 human beings, will be the order of the day!
I have not referred to the poor old Great Eastern—or Leviathan as she was originally named—680 feet long, and of 16,000 tons register. She was before her time, and, like other big steamers of that day, far too heavy in her plating to be driven economically at even moderate speed.
Great dimensions and swiftness have been rendered possible by improved engines, but chiefly by the employment of steel in their construction, which so materially reduces the vis inertia, that in the case of the Pennsylvania, built by Harland and Wolff for the Hamburg-American Line, although a mighty carrack of something like 585 feet, and 62 feet by 42 feet, her actual dead-weight is only 8,000 tons. Still more remarkable will be the reduction—about one-half—when aluminium with some form of alloy—copper, perhaps—comes into general use. Torpedo-boats have been built with this metal, and have run with great smoothness. It exists in every clay and shale formation, and is scattered throughout the world in immense profusion, our London clay consisting principally of silicate of alumina. Electricity is used in manufacturing this beautiful metal, that requires no paint to defend it from rusting; and, although it has hitherto been a costly article, the time is not far off—so it is said—when the price will come down to £19 a ton, or less.
A recent and novel application of aluminium to building purposes is to be seen at Chicago, where a house sixteen stories high is fronted on both sides with it, instead of bricks or terra-cotta.
Berthing the monstrous ships of the future is a problem met by a radical and world-wide alteration in the dimensions of docks, supplemented by quays running out into deep water, which in London would extend on both sides of the Thames, on the north from Tilbury to the Albert Docks, thus converting the old river, like the Clyde, into a long water-street lined by sea-walls, and kept constantly dredged, and connected with London by special lines of railway.
But what is to be the propelling power of the future leviathans? Not steam; but electricity, applied to the machinery from storage batteries. Why not?
ELECTRIC STORAGE AS A MOTIVE POWER
Sceptics in the past argued that it was manifestly impossible that vehicles would ever be horseless, or that communications would one day be transmitted by telegraph, not to speak of the time when even the wires for that purpose would be dispensed with; while the suggestion that artificial light would be obtained through any other agency than candles or oil-lamps, and that sail-less ships would be propelled against wind and tide, seemed savouring of Bedlam!