What a contrast to the days of Henry Bell does the Clyde now present! From a mere salmon stream it has become, in little more than half a century, by far the largest and most important ship-building river in the wide world. “Ancient historians have told us that when the first Punic war roused the citizens of Rome to extraordinary exertions in the equipment of a fleet for the destruction of the maritime supremacy of Carthage, the banks of the Tiber resounded with the axe and the hammer, and that the extent of the ship-building operations then carried on was a matter not merely of surprise, but of wonder. How insignificant, however, was that sound when compared with that of the steam-hammer and the anvil, and the din of the work now to be heard on the banks of the Clyde. For miles on both sides of the river stupendous ship-building yards line its banks, employing tens of thousands of hardy and skilled mechanics earning their daily [pg 98]bread, as God has destined all men to do, by ‘the sweat of their brow.’... Along those banks there is now annually constructed a much larger amount of steam tonnage than in all the other ports of Europe combined, those of England alone excepted.” These great private yards have been and will be invaluable in war times. Take such a firm as that of John Elder and Co., Fairfield, Glasgow, whose works cover sixty acres of ground. They have built vessels in the course of a year aggregating 35,000 to 40,000 tons, and have contracted for as many as six 4,000-ton steam-ships at a time. One of these was delivered to her owners complete and ready for sea, with steam up, within thirteen months of the time she was contracted for. Bell’s Comet was only of thirty tons, and its engine but of four-horse power! Mr. James Deas, C.E., in a work on the Clyde and its commerce, &c., says:—“It was no uncommon occurrence for the passengers, when the little steamer was getting exhausted, to take to turning the fly-wheel to assist her.”[29] Poor Bell, like so many of the pioneers of grand and important undertakings, did not profit much by his successful application of steam to navigation, and in his declining years was chiefly supported by an annuity of £50 granted by the Clyde trustees.
While the public, after the successful experiments already mentioned, and others which followed, were beginning to appreciate the value of steamers, the Admiralty would have nothing to do with them, and it took them about forty years before they reluctantly applied steam to war vessels. The absolutely first steam vessel built for the Royal Navy was a tug, also named the Comet. She was constructed in 1819, after some experiments had convinced Lord Melville and Sir George Cockburn of the value of steam power in towing men-of-war. “At this period, Mr. Ronnie, who planned the breakwater at Plymouth and new London Bridge, was ‘advising engineer’ to the Admiralty, and on every occasion urged the application of steam power to vessels of war. More than this, he hired at his own cost the Margate steam-boat, the Eclipse, and successfully towed the Eastings, 74, against the tide from Woolwich to Gravesend, June 14th, 1819. On this, the Admiralty, supported by Lord Melville, gave up their objections.”[30]
Still, practically, it was not till after the Crimean war that steam became the leading motive power in our war navy. The merchants were more sensible. Mr. David Napier had, in 1818, launched a steamer of ninety tons burden—the Rob Roy—from the yard of Mr. William Denny, of Dumbarton. For two years she ran between Glasgow and Belfast, carrying the mails, and was the first regular sea-going steamer which had been built in either Europe or the United States. But she also calls for particular mention for another reason: she was subsequently transferred to the English Channel as a packet-boat between Dover and Calais. And there are still, no doubt, many travellers or residents of those towns who can remember the inauguration of what is now a most important service. The same Napier, whose name is very intimately connected with the history of the marine engine, which he was constantly striving to improve, inaugurated, with the assistance of capitalists, a line between Liverpool, Greenock, and Glasgow. Next followed a line from London to Leith, which commenced with two steamers, each fitted with engines of fifty horse-power. Now came an immense advance, for in 1826, the first of the then considered “leviathan” class of steamers—the United Kingdom—[pg 99]was built for the trade between London and Edinburgh. She was 160 feet long, with engines of 200 horse-power. “People flocked from all quarters to inspect and admire her.”
THE “UNITED KINGDOM”.
(From a Drawing by E. W. Cooke, R.A.)
Although these two lines of regular steam communication between Liverpool and the river Clyde, and between London and Edinburgh, were now successfully established and proved of considerable importance in the encouragement of steam navigation elsewhere, some years elapsed before those rapid strides were made in its adaptation as a propelling power which have rendered it one of the wonders of the present age. Indeed, this power would probably never have made such an extraordinary advance had iron not been adopted instead of wood for the construction of our ships.
Hitherto throughout all ages, timber alone had been used in ship-building. The forests of Lebanon had supplied the naval architects of Tyre with their materials; Italy cultivated her woods with unusual care so that sufficient trees might be grown for the timber-planking and masts of ships for its once powerful maritime republics; and in our own time how often have we heard fears expressed that Great Britain would not be able to continue the supply of sufficient oak for her royal dockyards, much less for her merchant fleets? Yet, when shrewd, far-seeing men, no farther back than the year 1830, talked about substituting iron for the “ribs” of a ship instead of “timber,” and iron plates for “planking” instead of oak, what, a howl of derision the public raised.
“ ‘Who ever heard of iron floating?’ they derisively inquired,” says Lindsay. “It is true they might have seen old tin kettles float on every pool of water before their doors almost any day of their lives—nay, floating even more buoyantly than their discarded wooden coal-boxes, but such common-place instructors were beneath their notice. Timber-built ships had from time immemorial been in use in every nation and on every sea, and [pg 101]had bravely battled with the storm from the days of Noah, and were these, they sneeringly asked, to be supplanted by a material which in itself would naturally sink? Such was the reasoning of the period; and, indeed, the best of the arguments against the use of iron rested on scarcely more solid foundation.”[31]
It is true that so early as 1809, Richard Trevethick and Robert Dickenson had proposed to build “large ships with decks, beams, and sides of plate iron,” and had even suggested “masts, yards, and spars” of iron, which latter are now by no means uncommon. “But,” says Lindsay, “as these inventors or patentees did not put their ideas into practice, no other person (if, indeed, any other person gave even a passing thought to the subject) was convinced that any craft beyond a boat or a river-barge could be constructed of iron, much less that if made in the form of a ship, this material would oppose more effectual resistance to the storms of the ocean, or, if dashed upon the strand, to the angry fury of the waves, than timber, however scientifically put together. But though no available substance can withstand the raging elements with less chance of destruction than plates of iron [pg 102]riveted together in the form of a boiler (the principle on which iron ships are now constructed), the public could not then appreciate their superior value; and it was not until 1818 that the first iron vessel was built.” This vessel is in use even now. Three years afterwards a steam-engine was, for the first time, fitted into a vessel built of iron—the Aaron Manby—constructed for Mr. Manby and Captain Napier, afterwards Admiral Sir Charles Napier. Gradually the suitableness of these vessels was becoming apparent, and from this time dates the establishment of some of the greatest ship-building yards, like those of the Lairds and Fairbairns. In 1834 the first-named firm built the Garry Owen for service between Limerick and Kilrush. Almost fortunately, she was driven on shore with a number of wooden vessels, all of which were wrecked or seriously damaged, while she got off with scarcely any damage, and the credit of iron vessels became improved. But another of the chief and more tenable objections to the extended use of iron vessels was the perturbation of the compass. This has been clearly shown to proceed almost entirely from the proximity of iron not forming a part of the hull of the ship, the magnetic influence of which is comparatively even all round. A funnel, tank, boilers, the machinery, the iron fastenings even of a deck-house, &c., may all have their influences. Still these influences are now regulated and understood, and iron ships are more commonly employed than those of wood, showing that it is not an objection which can be urged to-day. After the early steamers came by degrees iron sailing vessels, till at length we find iron applied to a grand steamer, magnificent then and first-class still, the Great Britain. “Experience by degrees successfully met almost every objection; and science was again triumphant over prejudice and ignorance. Iron had been made not merely to float, but to ride buoyantly over the crest of the wave amid the raging elements.”
