“I have just read the project of Citizen Fulton, Engineer, which you have sent me much too late, since it is one which may change the face of the world.”
So, in the beginning of the century, wrote the first Napoleon from his Imperial camp at Boulogne. Wrapped in his day-dream of a descent upon the Thames, he saw, with prophetic vision, in the plans of the American engineer, the future of navigation, and he strove to grasp—but too late—the opportunity which might have made his armada victorious over wind and tide.
His words, however, rang truer than he knew. On the sea, as on the land, the engineer has indeed “changed the face of the world;” and in no department of human progress has his influence been more radical or more far-reaching than in the mechanism, the scope, and the strategy of naval war. Fleets move now with a swiftness and surety unthought of in the days of sail. Over the same western ocean which Nelson, in his eager chase of Villeneuve, crossed at but four knots an hour, the United States cruiser Columbia swept, ninety years later, at a speed nearly four and three quarters times that of his lagging craft. When, in 1898, war came, the great battleship Oregon, although far to the northward on our western coast, was needed in the distant battle-line off the Cuban shore. In 79 days she steamed 14,500 miles, making a run which is without parallel or approach by any warship of any navy in the world’s history. The magnificent manhood, the unconquerable pluck, the engineering skill, which brought her just in time off Santiago, won their reward when the Colon struck her flag. Speed has been a determining factor in many a naval action. It was that which gave the power to take and hold the old-time “weather-gauge.” None knew its value better than Nelson, the chief fighter of the age of sail. Once he said that there would be found, stamped upon his heart, “the want of frigates,” the swift and nimble “eyes of the fleet” in his day. If his career in warfare on the sea had been a century later, he would be found foremost among the advocates of high-speed battleships and quick-firing guns.
It is, however, not only in the speed of warships that steam and mechanism have revolutionized fleets. For example, the displacement of the battleship of to-day is fully three and one half times greater than that of her heaviest ancestor of the sailing age. With due limitation as to length of hull, it is evident that the wind would be, at best, a wholly inadequate and untrustworthy motor for this huge structure with its great weight of armor. It is true that, during the era of transition, sail and steam were both applied to iron-clads—this absurdity reaching its climax in the British Agincourt and her sisters, which were 400 feet long, 10,600 tons’ displacement, and were fitted with five masts. It is said that a merchant steamer narrowly escaped collision at night with one of these vessels, believing from her length and rigging that there were two ships ahead, between which she could pass. What these large displacements mean, in contrast with those of past days, will be, perhaps, best illustrated by the statement that the Italia of 13,600 tons—a ship with which, in her day, Italy challenged the criticism of the world—carries on her deck a weight, in armor and armament, of 2500 tons, or one fourth more than that of Nelson’s flagship Victory.
PLATE II. SIDE VIEW OF CONSTITUTION FROM ORIGINAL DRAWING.
(Furnished by the Author.)
| Length | 174 ft. 10½ ins. |
| Beam | 43 ft. 6 in. |
| Mean Draught | 20 ft. 0 in. |
| Displacement | 2200 tons. |
William Doughty, Fecit. 1796, Oct.
Joshua Humphreys, of Philadelphia, Designer. Cloghorne and Hartley, of Boston, Builders. Launched Oct. 21, 1797.