THE PERUVIAN IRONCLAD HUASCAR.
The recent story of the saucy Russian merchantman,[23] which not merely dared the Turkish ironclad, but fought her for five hours, and inflicted quite as much damage as she received, will also be remembered, although it may be taken just for what it is worth. One Captain Baranoff, of the Imperial Russian Navy, had, in an article published in the Golos, of St. Petersburg, recommended his Government to abandon ironclads, avoid naval battles, and confine operations at sea to the letting loose of a number of cruisers against the enemy’s merchantmen. Where a naval engagement was inevitable, he “preferred fighting with small craft, making up by agility and speed what they lacked in cuirass, and if the worst came to the worst, easily replaced by other specimens of the same type.” The article created much notice; and at the beginning of the present war, the author was given to understand by the Russian Admiralty that he should have an opportunity of proving his theories by deeds. The Vesta, an ordinary iron steamer of light build, was selected; she had been employed previously in no more warlike functions than the conveyance of corn and tallow from Russia to foreign ports. She was equipped immediately with a few 6-in. mortars, her decks being strengthened to receive them, but no other changes were made. On the morning of the 23rd of July, cruising in the Black Sea, Captain Baranoff encountered the Turkish ironclad Assari Tefvik, a formidable vessel armoured with twelve inches of iron, and carrying 12-ton guns, and nothing daunted by the disproportion in size and strength, immediately engaged her. Both vessels were skilfully manœuvred, the ironclad moving about with extraordinary alertness and speed. She was only hit three times with large balls; the second went through her deck, “kindling a fire which was quickly extinguished;” the third was believed to have injured the turret. Meantime, the Vesta was herself badly injured, a grenade hitting her close to the powder-magazine, which would have soon blown up but for the rapid measures taken by her commander. Her rudder was struck and partially disabled, but still she was not sunk, as she should have been, according to all theoretical considerations. She eventually steamed back again to Sebastopol—after two other vessels had come to the ironclad’s assistance—covered with glory, having for five hours worried, and somewhat injured, a giant vessel to which, in proportion, she was but a weak and miserable dwarf.
It will be obvious that from neither of the above cases can any positive inferences be safely drawn. In the former case, the weaker vessel had the stronger guns, and so matters were partially balanced; in the second example, the ironclad ought to have easily sunk the merchantman by means of her heavy guns, even from a great distance—but she didn’t. The ironclad question will engage our attention again, as it will, we fear, that of the nation, for a very long time to come.
CHAPTER II.
Men of Peace.
Naval Life in Peace Times—A Grand Exploring Voyage—The Cruise of the Challenger—Its Work—Deep-sea Soundings—Five Miles Down—Apparatus Employed—Ocean Treasures—A Gigantic Sea-monster—Tristan d’Acunha—A Discovery Interesting to the Discovered—The Two Crusoes—The Inaccessible Island—Solitary Life—The Sea-cart—Swimming Pigs—Rescued at Last—The Real Crusoe Island to Let—Down South—The Land of Desolation—Kerguelen—The Sealers’ Dreary Life—In the Antarctic—Among the Icebergs.
No form of life presents greater contrasts than that of the sailor. Storm and calm alternate; to-day in the thick of the fight—battling man or the elements—to-morrow we find him tranquilly pursuing some peaceful scheme of discovery or exploration, or calmly cruising from one station to another, protecting by moral influence alone the interests of his country. His deeds may be none the less heroic because his conquests are peaceful, and because Neptune rather than Mars is challenged to cede his treasures. Anson, Cook, and Vancouver, Parry, Franklin, M’Clintock, and M’Clure, among a host of others, stand worthily by the side of our fighting sailors, because made of the same stuff. Let us also, then, for a time, leave behind the smoke and din, the glories and horrors of war, and cool our fevered imaginations by descending, in spirit at least, to the depths of the great sea. The records of the famous voyage of the Challenger[24] will afford a capital opportunity of contrasting the deeds of the men of peace with those of men of war.
We may commence by saying that no such voyage has in truth ever been undertaken before.[25] Nearly 70,000 miles of the earth’s watery surface were traversed, and the Atlantic and Pacific crossed and recrossed several times. It was a veritable voyage en zigzag. Apart from ordinary soundings innumerable, 374 deep-sea soundings, when the progress of the vessel had to be stopped, and which occupied an hour or two apiece, were made, and at least two-thirds as many successful dredgings and trawlings. The greatest depth of ocean reached was 4,575 fathoms (27,450 feet), or over five miles. This was in the Pacific, about 1,400 miles S.E. of Japan. We all know that this ocean derives its name from its generally calmer weather and less tempestuous seas; and the researches of the officers of the Challenger, and of the United States vessel Tuscarora, show that the bottom slopes to its greatest depths very evenly and gradually, little broken by submarine mountain ranges, except off volcanic islands and coasts like those of the Hawaiian (Sandwich) Islands. Off the latter there are mountains in the sea ranging to as high as 12,000 feet. The general evenness of the bottom helps to account for the long, sweeping waves of the Pacific, so distinguishable from the short, [pg 29]cut-up, and “choppy” waves of the Atlantic. In the Atlantic, on the voyage of the Challenger from Teneriffe to St. Thomas, a pretty level bottom off the African coast gradually deepened till it reached 3,125 fathoms (over three and a half miles), at about one-third of the way across to the West Indies. If the Alps, Mont Blanc and all, were submerged at this spot, there would still be more than half a mile of water above them! Five hundred miles further west there is a comparatively shallow part—two miles or so deep—which afterwards deepens to three miles, and continues at the same depth nearly as far as the West Indies.
