OILING THE WAVES.
The recent gales have shown that if “Britannia rules the waves” her subjects are very turbulent and costly. Our shipping interests are now of enormous magnitude, and they are growing year by year. We are, in fact, becoming the world’s carriers on the ocean, and are thus ruling the waves in a far better sense than in the old one. Our present mercantile rule adds to the wealth of our neighbors instead of destroying it, as under the old warlike rule.
Everything concerning these waves is thus of great national interest, the loss of life and sacrifice of wealth by marine casualties being so great. Some curious old stories are extant, describing the exploits of ancient mariners in stilling the waves by pouring oil upon them. Both Plutarch and Pliny speak of it as a regular practice. Much later than this, in a letter dated Batavia, January 5, 1770, written by M. Tengragel, and addressed to Count Bentinck, the following passage occurs:—“Near the islands Paul and Amsterdam we met with a storm, which had nothing particular in it worthy of being communicated to you, except that the captain found himself obliged, for greater safety in wearing the ship, to pour oil into the sea to prevent the waves breaking over her, which had an excellent effect, and succeeded in preserving us. As he poured out but a little at a time, the East India Company owes, perhaps, its ship to only six demi-aumes of olive oil. I was present on deck when this was done, and should not have mentioned this circumstance to you, but that we have found people here so prejudiced against the experiment as to make it necessary for the officers on board and myself to give a certificate of the truth on this head, of which we made no difficulty.”
The idea was regarded with similar prejudice by scientific men until Benjamin Franklin had his attention called to it, as he thus narrates:—“In 1757, being at sea in a fleet of ninety-six sail, bound for Louisbourg, I observed the wakes of two of the ships to be remarkably smooth, while all the others were ruffled by the wind, which blew fresh. Being puzzled with the differing appearance, I at last pointed it out to the captain, and asked him the meaning of it. ‘The cooks,’ said he, ‘have, I suppose, been just emptying their greasy water through the scuppers, which has greased the sides of the ships a little.’ And this answer he gave me with an air of some little contempt, as to a person ignorant of what everybody else knew. In my own mind, I first slighted the solution, though I was not able to think of another.”
Franklin was not a man to remain prejudiced; he accordingly investigated the subject, and the results of his experiments, made upon a pond on Clapham Common, were communicated to the Royal Society. He states that after dropping a little oil on the water, “I saw it spread itself with surprising swiftness upon the surface, but the effect of smoothing the waves was not produced; for I had applied it first upon the leeward side of the pond, where the waves were largest, and the wind drove my oil back upon the shore. I then went to the windward side, where they began to form; and there the oil, though not more than a teaspoonful, produced an instant calm over a space several yards square, which spread amazingly, and extended itself gradually till it reached the lee side, making all that quarter of the pond (perhaps half an acre) as smooth as a looking-glass.”
Franklin made further experiments at the entrance of Portsmouth Harbor, opposite the Haslar Hospital, in company with Sir Joseph Banks, Dr. Blagden, and Dr. Solander. In these experiments the waves were not destroyed, but were converted into gentle swelling undulations with smooth surfaces. Thus it appeared that the oil destroys small waves, but not large billows.
Franklin’s explanation is, “that the wind blowing over water covered with a film of oil cannot easily catch upon it, so as to raise the first wrinkles, but slides over it and leaves it smooth as it finds it.”
Further investigations have since been made which confirm this theory. The first action of the wind in blowing up what the sailors call “a sea,” is the production of a ripple on the surface of the water. This ripple gives the wind a strong hold, and thus larger waves are formed, but on these larger there are smaller waves, and on these smaller waves still smaller ripples. All this roughness of surface goes on helping the wind, till at last the mightiest billows are formed, which then have an oscillation independent of the wind that formed them. Hence the oil cannot at once subdue the great waves that are already formed, but may prevent their formation if applied in time. Even the great waves are moderated by the oil stopping the action of the wind which sustains and augments them.
Quite recently, Captain David Gray made some experiments at the north bar of Peterhead, where a very heavy surf breaks over in rough weather. On a rough day he dropped a bottle full of oil into the sea. The oil floating out of the bottle, converted the choppy waves over a large area “into an expanse of long undulating rollers, smooth and glassy, and so robbed of all violence that a small open boat could ride on them in safety.”
This result is quite in accordance with what we are told respecting the ancient practice of the fishermen of Lisbon, who were accustomed to empty a bottle of oil into the sea when they found on their return to the river that there was a dangerous surf on the bar, which might fill their boats in crossing it.