By taking soundings frequently when nearing the land, knowing the ship's course and her position at the last observation, one can prick out her track on the chart even in the heaviest fog. One never can tell what slant of tide or current is silently sending the ship toward the shore, so soundings are taken every fifteen minutes.
The presence of a pilot on board is no excuse for the Captain whose ship gets into trouble. The lives of the fifteen hundred persons on board, the value of the cargo, which is always very great, and of the vessel herself, which is worth at least two millions, all are in his hands. But, as I said before, the responsibility never worries him. He simply watches everything closely. The heads of departments report to him every day, and should any emergency arise, he is kept informed of every new occurrence.
How is it possible, we are often asked, to steer such a great vessel as the modern ocean liner? Steam and electricity have made the work almost seem like play. The senior officer on the bridge can tell at any moment just how fast the ship is going, how many revolutions the port and starboard screws are making per minute, just at what angle the rudder is set—in one word, all about the ship's progress. This is all reported to him on automatic registering machines.
You know, of course, that the ocean greyhound of to-day is a twin-screw ship—that is, that instead of being driven through the water by one propeller, she has two—one on each side of the end of her keel. Each screw is worked by its own set of engines. These engines are entirely independent of each other. The rudder is moved to one side or the other by steam or hydraulic power. Should the rudder become useless from any cause, it is possible to steer the ship by these screws. Most of you know that you can steer a row-boat by putting more force on one oar than on the other. If you want to turn sharply you back-water with one oar and row ahead with the other. So it is with these screws. By backing one screw and going ahead with the other, the ship can be turned around almost within her own length, as the phrase is. The ordinary vessel that loses her rudder is in a sad fix. The twin-screw ship simply needs a little extra care in handling. In fact, it has happened more than once that an ocean greyhound has been steered for more than a thousand miles straight into port while the rudder was useless.
It is easy to appreciate the necessity for making fast time across the ocean when you remember that each idle moment means a loss of earning power. The vessel costs $2,000,000. She will be worn out, say, in ten years. Her value will be very small. So that every moment of her ten good years must be made to tell. Suppose her navigators should be so careless as to let her wander one hour's journey off her course. Another hour would be lost bringing her back. That would mean a clear loss of two hours. Mathematical experts could tell you exactly what that loss would amount to. All we know is that not one instant shall be thrown away.
COALING.
Perhaps you have been aboard one of the largest ships coming up the bay from Sandy Hook to New York. Have you noticed the churned-up white water that flows away behind her? Watch it, and you will observe that now on one side, now on the other, the foam ceases to flow so thickly. This shows that one screw or the other has almost stopped for a moment. The ship-channel coming up the bay is so narrow and shallow that at certain low stages of the tide a great steamship drags the water along with her body, just as your own body can drag the water in a bath-tub. The result is that the rudder has very little effect in guiding the ship. Under such circumstances the screw on one side or the other is slowed so as to steer the vessel.
Whole books might be written about the engines of an ocean greyhound. To inspect the engines thoroughly you go down through four decks. Every bit of machinery is constantly watched. A record is kept of every turn of the screw, of every engine's work. The chief engineer has three first assistants, and one of these three is always on duty. The engine-room is like a gigantic roaring factory—it is a factory that makes power for pushing the ship along. The four large dynamos that produce electricity for lighting and other uses are also in the vast engine-room. So is the machine that makes ice for the ship. This, by-the-way, is almost a magical apparatus. In it is made all the ice used by the ship's company, and from it pipes are led that supply the refrigerating-rooms. There are two of these immense refrigerators. They are on the fourth deck—away below the water-line. As nearly every article of food for the round trip is purchased in this country, practically all the perishable food is stored in these refrigerators—one being known as the "East-bound," and the other the "West-bound." The immense amount of provisions carried is something hard to imagine. A ship like the New York or the St. Paul, for example, takes 25,000 pounds of beef, more than three tons of game and poultry, 18,000 eggs, and other things in proportion. The law requires that enough provisions be carried to feed the ship's people for twenty-four additional days, in case of accident. We carry much more than that amount. In the refrigerating-rooms are also carried enough flowers to adorn the tables all the way to England and back.
Most of you, perhaps, think of an ocean greyhound as a swift-going floating hotel. I think you will admit she is more—that she is one of the greatest wonders of the deep.