The White Star fleet at present consists of nineteen ocean steamers, ranging in size from 3,807 to 10,000 tons and upwards. Five of these steamers are employed in the Atlantic weekly mail service, three keep up a monthly line to New Zealand, four ply monthly from San Francisco to Japan and China, the remainder are cargo boats of large carrying capacity. A number of vessels built for this company have been sold to other lines and are still running. The Oceanic, pioneer ship of the line, after a few years in the Atlantic service, was transferred to the company’s trans-Pacific line. On her sixty-second voyage in October, 1889, she crossed from Yokohama to San Francisco in 13 days, 14 hours, 4 minutes, the fastest voyage then on record across the Pacific. Having completed twenty-five years of successful work she was sold and broken up in 1896. But the name is to be perpetuated by the magnificent new steamer now building at Belfast, which in point of size and speed is designed to surpass any vessel at present afloat. The new Oceanic is longer than the Great Eastern.
Only two ships of this line have been lost. The Atlantic was wrecked on the coast of Nova Scotia, April 1st, 1873. She had left the Mersey on March 20th, with 32 saloon, 615 steerage passengers, and a crew of 143—790 in all—of whom about 560 perished, including all the women and children. What made the disaster even more deplorable, it was not satisfactorily accounted for. The morning was dark and boisterous, but not particularly foggy. Captain Williams had mistaken his reckoning, and was rushing his ship incautiously too near the land.[21] The Naronic was a fine new cargo ship of 6,594 tons. She left Liverpool, February 11th, 1893, bound for New York; but she never arrived there. Two of her boats were picked up on March 4th, but no clue was ever found to the mysterious disappearance of the ship.
Thomas H. Ismay, recently retired from business, has all along been recognized as the manager-in-chief and moving spirit of the White Star Line, and a man of exceptional gifts and graces. Conspicuous alike by his enterprise and culture, Mr. Ismay has given proof of true greatness in declining honours that were easily within his reach. He might have been chairman of the London and North Western Railway Company—the greatest railway company in the world—but he would not. Several times he might have been returned to Parliament, but he declined. His name was confidently mentioned in connection with the Diamond Jubilee honours. Sir Thomas Ismay would have sounded well, but he begged to be excused, choosing to remain plain Thomas Ismay, of Liverpool, where his beneficent character is known and appreciated at its full value. The same may be said of the genial ex-captain of the Majestic, and commodore of the fleet, Captain Parsell, in whose personality were combined the culture of a gentleman and all the qualifications of a good sailor. Captain Cameron, of the Teutonic, has been in the service of the White Star Company nearly thirty years, having commenced his career in the sailing ships. He is one of the most popular commanders on the route.
Messrs. Harland and Wolff, of Belfast, the builders of all the steamers of the White Star Line, are one of the largest ship-building firms in the world. They employ between seven thousand and eight thousand men in their establishment. Sir Edward J. Harland, late head of the firm, was a Yorkshireman by birth. He served an apprenticeship to engineering at Newcastle, and studied the art of ship-building in the drawing office of Messrs. J. & G. Thomson, Glasgow. He was a man of noble presence, fine ability, and great enterprise. He had been Chairman of the Harbour Board, Mayor of Belfast, High Sheriff of County Down, a Justice of the Peace, and a member of Parliament. He was made a Baronet by the Queen, in 1885, on the occasion of the visit of the Prince and Princess of Wales to Belfast. Sir Edward died at his home, Glenfarne Hall, County Leitrim, December 23rd, 1895, aged sixty-four years.
The rates of passage by the Cunard, the White Star and the American Line are nearly identical, and, all things considered, they are not unreasonable. They are cheaper than the fares by the sailing packets of sixty years ago. The ordinary rates for first-class passengers, in summer, vary from $75 to $150, according to the location of the stateroom, and the number of berths in it; from $40 to $50 for the second-class cabin, and from $20 to $27 in the steerage. The winter rates are somewhat less, say, from $75 to $150 in the steamers Lucania and Campania, and from $60 to $150 in other fast boats. When the rush of travel is in full swing, say, from May to October, rooms must be secured months in advance. Tickets may then be held at a fictitious value, and those who will have special accommodation (suites of rooms, etc., etc.) must pay for it. A fellow-passenger with me, in one of the New York liners, not long since paid—so, at least, I was credibly informed—$3,000 for the single voyage for himself, his wife, two daughters, and two servants. The difference between an outside and an inside stateroom, in the busy season, may be $135 and upwards. At such times a room to yourself is a luxury that means money.
What about ocean steamers racing? The question was raised in the British House of Commons a few years ago, and elicited the answer that there is no law in the statute book forbidding it. Are not these ocean greyhounds built and subsidized with a special view to speed? Other things being equal, the fastest boat draws most passengers. A competing ship may be in sight or out of sight; it makes little difference. There is a race going on all the same, and the palm is awarded to the one that lands the mails in London or New York, as the case may be, in the fewest number of hours and minutes. Probably ninety-nine out of every hundred passengers on board the Majestic on a certain day in May, 1894, if placed in the witness-box, would swear that on that day an exciting race took place on the high seas, which ended in the SS. Paris outrunning the Majestic, and dashing across her bows in dangerous proximity! It was an optical delusion. Both ships, no doubt, were doing their level best, and had they continued their respective courses much longer, there is no saying what might have happened, but, at the proper time, Captain Parsell blew off steam, slowed his ship, put his helm down, and crossed the stern of the Paris. It was beautifully done.
And how about these so-called lifeboats, hanging in the davits, so prettily painted, so neatly encased in canvas, and so firmly secured in their places? That they are useful sometimes, the writer knows from personal observation. On a recent voyage from Liverpool to New York we ran into a dense fog off the Banks of Newfoundland. The steam whistle gave forth its dolorous sounds all hours of the night, but the ship rushed on at her accustomed pace. At 4.20 a.m. most of us were awakened out of our slumbers by a violent shaking of the vessel. Had we been near land we might have fancied that the ship was grating along a pebbly bottom, but that could not be. Presently the engine stopped, and a loud roar of steam from the funnels brought most of the passengers on deck. It was a raw, damp morning, about daybreak, with fog as thick as burgoo all around. You couldn’t see half the length of the ship. Everything on deck appeared to be at sixes and sevens. Where the after-boats had been ropes and tackles were swinging to the roll of the ship; orders were being given from the bridge in peremptory tones, a few sailors were hurrying here and there, yelling out their ready “Aye, aye, sir!” Down goes another boat. Three or four had already left the ship and disappeared in the mist. What is it all about? “Oh! we have run down a fishing schooner and smashed it to smithereens.” Listen! voices of men in distress are heard; they shout louder and louder, and are answered, call for call, by the steam whistle. The ship had overshot the scene of the disaster, but was brought back to the spot by the instant reversal of her twin-screws—it was that that shook the ship as if it would have shaken her to pieces. The boats came in sight one by one, each to be greeted with a hearty cheer. Seven of the eight fishermen have been rescued! One had left the spar to which he had been clinging, thinking to swim for the ship, but he quickly went under and was seen no more. The longboat came first with two of the survivors; the life-boat came last, strange to say, full of water. She had struck a piece of wreckage and stove in her bow, but the men sat up to their waists in water—every sea washing over them—and plied their oars as merrily as though nothing had happened. They brought two of the fishermen, one of whom was too weak to grasp the rope ladder hanging over the ship’s side, and was hoisted up by a cord passed round his body, a pitiful object. Reaching the deck they took him up tenderly and carried him below—to die in a few minutes. The remaining six, some of them badly bruised, were well cared for. A subscription on their behalf, added to the proceeds of a concert in the second cabin, realized about £380 sterling, which would cover the loss of their vessel and its cargo. The whole time occupied in the rescue was one hour and three-quarters. It was cleverly done: and the ship sailed on.
A fine instance of coolness and sound judgment in a sudden emergency has been related of Captain E. R. McKinstry, Lieut. R.N.R., of the SS. Germanic, which collided with the steamer Cambrae entering the Mersey in a dense fog. The Germanic had cut deeply into the broadside of the other ship, and filled the opening she had made like a wedge. Had the order been given to reverse the engine the result would have been disastrous, for the damaged ship must have filled and sank immediately, but with rare presence of mind the engines of the Germanic were kept moving slowly ahead, effectually preventing the rush of water until every soul on board was rescued. Captain McKinstry is a young man to have reached the top of his profession, and has already given many proofs of his gallantry and pluck. On several occasions he has risked his life to save that of others, notably during the naval review at Spithead, in 1887, when he jumped from the deck of the Teutonic to rescue a drowning sailor. Another instance of fine seamanship occurred recently on board the City of Rome, Atlantic liner, which had a narrow escape from destruction by fire on her voyage to New York with a large number of passengers on board. The coolness and skill of Captain Young on that occasion merited the highest praise. Mr. Wonham, of Montreal, one of the passengers, after describing the steps taken to subdue the flames, and to provide for the safety of the passengers and crew, concluded his narrative by saying, “I’m like the American who came to Montreal to enjoy a toboggan slide. He would not have missed the experience for a thousand dollars, but he wouldn’t go through it again for ten thousand.”
Leaving out of the count innumerable “tramps,” there are many lines of steamships besides those already mentioned, keeping up regular sailings between Britain and United States ports. The Wilson Line, of Hull, has a fleet of about eighty steamers trading to all parts of the world, with weekly services from Hull and London to New York, and fortnightly from Newcastle and Antwerp. They also have a fortnightly service from Hull to Boston. The State Line, now incorporated with the Allan Line, has a weekly service from Glasgow to New York. The State of Nebraska and State of California are large and fine ships with excellent accommodation for passengers at low rates. The Atlantic Transport Line, with its fine fleet of twin-screw steamers, connects New York, Philadelphia and Baltimore with London every week. The North American Transport Company has also a numerous fleet plying between Norfolk, Va., and New York to Liverpool, Glasgow, Leith, Rotterdam and Hamburg. The Arrow Line runs from New York to Leith; the Manhanset Line, to Bristol and Swansea from New York. The Hill Line plies between London and New York, and the Lord Line between Baltimore and Belfast. The Chesapeake and Ohio Steamship Company sail their ships from Newport News and New York to London and Liverpool. The Blue Flag Line has regular communication with Baltimore and Glasgow, Liverpool, Dublin, Belfast and Rotterdam. The Lamport and Holt Line plies between New York, Liverpool and Manchester; the Bristol City Line weekly between New York and Bristol, while another line makes its terminus at Avonmouth. Barber & Co.’s steamers run regularly from New York to Leith, and from Norfolk, Va., and Newport News to Liverpool and Antwerp. The United States Shipping Company send their ships from Norfolk to Glasgow, Liverpool, Manchester, Leith and Hamburg.
Besides these there are many lines of steamships leaving New York at regular intervals for Bermuda, West Indies, Trinidad, New Orleans, South American ports, Mexico, Central America and San Francisco, via the Isthmus of Panama.