This is a record of which all concerned, builders, owners, and working staff, may well be proud. It augurs first-class, honest work, and superb engineering skill. Since the construction of these ships, however, vessels surpassing them in speed have, of course, been built, among which may be mentioned the same line’s Teutonic and Majestic.
The well-known Cunarders, Umbria and Etruria, have also done some very fine work, indicating great excellence of construction. Thus, on her eighty-second voyage, the Umbria steamed from Queenstown to Sandy Hook in 5 days, 22 hours; or, allowing for detention through fog, 5 days, 18½ hours, which is within three or four hours of the White Stars’ and American’s time.
The story of the British warship Calliope, at Samoa, will also show how marvellously well ships’ engines can be built. Some difficulties had arisen between the United States and Germany as to Samoa, and several warships had gathered there. Some weeks of bad weather had occurred, and then, on the 15th of March, 1889, the wind began to blow with tremendous force. Down came the top masts from the warships—taken down as a precaution; steam was raised in the boilers in case anchors should not hold, and spars were made secure. But no man among the sailors expected such a hurricane as ensued.
Rain fell at midnight, and the wind increased. Huge waves rolled in from the South Pacific, and the vessels tugged madly at their anchor chains and pitched fearfully up and down, like corks. Then the Eber, one of the German ships, began to drag her anchors; and the Vandalia, one of the Americans, followed suit. But by their steam power they kept off a dangerous reef, and also prevented themselves from colliding with their neighbours.
Still higher and higher blew the hurricane, and the rain fell with tropic severity. Three hours after midnight the situation had become terrible. Almost every vessel was dragging her anchors, and the danger of collision was constant.
The scene of the occurrence was a small bay before Apia, the capital of Samoa. But there is a coral reef extending in front of the bay for about two miles, and in the centre of the reef an opening about a quarter of a mile wide. The ships, therefore, were shut up in a comparatively small space, from which the way of escape was this gateway through the reef. The tide rushed in with great rapidity, swamping the land a hundred feet or so above high-water mark.
As morning dawned and wore on to-day, the Eber collided with the Nipsic and then with the Olga, and, finally, was dashed by the huge waves, like a toy, upon the reef, and rolled over into deep water. Only five men struggled to shore and were saved. Other sad disasters occurred; and then, shortly before noon, the Vandalia and the Calliope were tossed perilously near together, and also toward the dangerous reef. In endeavouring to steam away, the Vandalia collided with the Calliope, and was much damaged. Then, with splendid courage, Captain Kane determined to steam right away to sea—to remain would but risk another collision, or a wreck on the reef. Sea-room he must have at any cost!
“Lift all anchors!” was the thrilling order, and then—“Full speed ahead!” Round swung the vessel’s head to the wind, and though the powerful engines were working “all they knew” to force the ship along, the steamer stood still, as if aghast at being asked to break through these tremendous waves.
But she stood for a moment only. The superb engines began to tell; the quickly-whirling screw churned up the heavy water at the stern, and slowly the good ship made headway through the huge billows. They crashed over her stern and poured over her decks, as if in anger at her defiance. But on went the coal to her furnaces, and the thick smoke reeled off from the funnel in volumes. The strain quivered through every limb of the ship, but her captain kept her at it, and inch by inch she forced her way through the pounding seas.
“This manœuvre of the gallant British ship,” says an eye-witness, Mr. John P. Dunning, of the Associated U.S. Press, “is regarded as one of the most daring in naval annals. It was the one desperate chance offered her commander to save his vessel and the three hundred lives aboard. An accident to the machinery at this critical moment would have meant certain death to all. Every pound of steam which the Calliope could possibly carry was crowded on, and down in the fire-rooms the men worked as they never had worked before. To clear the harbour, the Calliope had to pass between the Trenton (an American warship) and the reef, and it required the most skilful seamanship to avoid a collision with the Trenton, on the one hand, or total destruction upon the reef, on the other. The Trenton’s fires had gone out by that time, and she lay helpless almost in the path of the Calliope.”