The best ships of to-day are gigantic compared with the best of twenty or even fifteen years ago. The New York is 565 feet long, and of 63 feet beam. She extends 27 feet beneath the water. These mere figures do not convey much of an impression of her size. If she should be lifted out of the water, however, she would fill Broadway, from curb-stone to curb-stone, from Chambers Street to Park Place, and a man standing on her bridge could easily look into the fifth story of the houses on either side. A ship of this size costs more than two millions of dollars. Her engines have power equivalent to that of 20,000 horses. The crew of the New York averages 400 men all the year around. There are 70 in the navigating department, 180 in the engine department, and the rest are in the steward's department.
Just as the government of the city of New York is divided among the Mayor, Aldermen, and boards and commissioners of various departments, so the administration of a giant steamship is divided into specialties. The Mayor is the chief officer of the city. The Captain is the chief officer of the ship. He is more than that. From the time she leaves port until she enters port he is master of the life and liberty of every person aboard the ship, as well as of all the property in it. He is an autocrat. Of course he must administer his authority wisely. Unwise autocrats don't last long, whether afloat or ashore.
LOOKOUT IN THE FORETOP.
The head of each department is responsible for all that goes on in it. The first officer is at the head of the crew, or navigating department. The chief engineer directs everything connected with the engines. The chief steward has full control of all that has to do with the comfort of the passengers and crew. Each of these chiefs makes a written report at noon every day. Thus the Captain is kept informed of everything pertaining to the ship's welfare.
Every one of the senior officers of the ship is a duly qualified master, capable of taking her around the world if need be. The day is divided into "watches," or tours of duty, of four hours each. One junior officer is on the bridge with each senior officer on duty. The senior officer directs the ship's course. He never leaves the bridge while he is on watch. Should he do so he would be dismissed at once. There is no excuse possible. It would be just as if he had died suddenly. His friends would all feel sorry, but nothing could be done to help him. Two seamen are always on watch in the bow of the ship, and two more in the fore-top. Twice as many are on the lookout in thick weather. Observations are taken every two hours. In the good old sailing-ship days the Captain was content to "take the sun" at noon every day. If the sky was cloudy for a day or two, it really didn't matter much, for he could jog along on dead reckoning. But on an ocean greyhound, rushing over the course between New York and Europe at the rate of more than twenty miles an hour, it is highly important that the ship's position be known all the time. Fog may come down at any moment, observations may not be obtainable for ten or twelve hours. The positions of more than one hundred stars are known. By observing any one of these the ship's whereabouts can be ascertained in a few minutes. Of course the "road" becomes more or less familiar to a man who crosses the ocean along the same route year after year. Yet this familiarity never breeds contempt or any carelessness. No man knows all the influences that affect the currents of the ocean. You may find the current in one place the same forty times in succession; on the forty-first trip it may be entirely changed. Sometimes a big storm that has ended four or five hours before the steamship passes a certain place may have given the surface current a strong set in one direction. There is no means of telling when these influences may have been at work save by taking the ship's position frequently.
Those of you who are familiar with boat-racing know how often a race is lost by bad steering. The cockswain who lets his shell drift to one side and then to the other loses much valuable time in getting back to the course. You know that from the start of the race he has his eye fixed on a certain mark, and that he steers straight for that mark. It is the same way with the Captain of a steamship. His mark is the port on the other side of the ocean. He aims at it all the time. If his ship should go astray only for one hour she would lose valuable time getting back to her course. Every unnecessary mile travelled not only causes loss of time, but waste of coal, and wear and tear of machinery, ship, crew, etc.
Great caution must be used at all times, but especially on nearing the land. Old-fashioned ships use the lead and hand-line for finding the depth of water and nature of the bottom, so that by referring to the chart the navigator can tell just where he is. That apparatus is too clumsy for the swift steamship. We use Sir William Thompson's sounding-machine while the ship goes at full speed. A brass tube is fastened to the end of a piano-wire line. When this is lowered to the bottom the pressure of the water is exactly registered on a glass tube—somewhat resembling a thermometer—which is fastened inside the tube of brass. Upon reading the amount of pressure we know the exact depth. A cup on the end of the brass tube brings up a specimen of the bottom.
THE GREYHOUND IN A FOG—A CLOSE SHAVE.