And yet the poetry has not gone out of it all. The poetry of the sailing-frigate was lyric. That of the steel battle-ship is Homeric.

Nothing save a war of the elements has the power of a battle-ship in action. Ten thousand tons of steel,--a mighty fortress churning speedily through the water fills the spirit with wonder at the works of man and makes any engine for his destruction a possibility. Away down below the water-line a score or more of furnaces, white-heated, roar furiously under the forced draught, and the monster engines move their ponderous arms majestically, and in rhythm and harmony mask their awful strength. Before the furnace-doors, blackened, half-naked stokers move, silhouetted against the crimson glare, like grim phantoms of the Shades. The iron uprights and tools are hot to their touch, the purple gases hiss and sputter in their very faces, yet still they toil on, gasping for breath, their tongues cleaving to their mouths, and their wet bodies steaming in the heat of it.

[Ill.u.s.tration: MODERN SEA MONSTERS IN ACTION]

The deck above gives no sign of the struggle below. Where, in the old days, the sonorous trumpet rang out and the spar-deck was alive with the watch who hurried to the pin-rail at the frequent call, now all is quiet.

Here and there bright work is polished, or a lookout pa.s.ses a cheery call, but nothing save the man at the wheel and the officer of the watch shows the actual working of the ship.

Seamanship, in the sense of sail-handling, is a thing of the past. Though there is no officer in the navy who could not in an emergency handle a square-rigger with the science of an old sea-captain, the man on the bridge has now come to be first a tactician and after that a master of steam and electricity.

In the sea-battles of 1812 the captain was here, there, and everywhere in the thickest of the fight, inspiring by his personal magnetism the men at the guns. He was the soul of his ship. To-day the sea-battle is a one-man battle. The captain is still the heart and soul of the ship, but his ends are accomplished in a less personal way. His men need not see him. By the touch of a finger he can perform every action necessary to carry his ship to victory. He can see everything, do everything, and make his presence everywhere felt by the mere operation of a set of electrical instruments in front of him.

The intricacies of his position are, in a way, increased. He may lose a boiler, split a crank, or break an electrical connection, but the beautiful subtleties of old-fashioned seamanship have no place whatever on the modern war-ship.

Let it not be understood that the handling of the great ocean fortress of to-day may be mastered by any save a craftsman of the art. With plenty of sea-room and a keen watch alow and aloft the trick is a simple one, for the monster is only a speck in the infinity of sea and sky, and there is never a fear save for a blow, or a ship, or a sh.o.r.e. But in close manuvre, or in harbor, the problem is different. Ten thousand tons of bulk cannot be turned and twisted on the heel with the swish and toss of the wieldy clipper. Observant transpontine voyagers, who have watched the gigantic liner warped out from her pier into a swift tide-way with a leeward ebb, will tell you what a complicated and difficult thing it seems to be.

The captain of the battle-ship must be all that the merchant captain is, and more besides. Mooring and slipping moorings should be an open book to the naval officer, but his higher studies, the deeper intricacies of the science of war, are mysteries for the merchant captain. All of it is seamanship, of course. But to-day it is the seamanship of the bridled elements, where strength is met by strength and steam and iron make wind and wave as nothing.

The perfection of the seamanship of the past was not in strength, but in yielding, and the saltiest sea-captain was he who cajoled both ship and sea to his bidding. The wind and waves, they say, are always on the side of the ablest navigators, but it was rather a mysterious and subtle knowledge of the habits and humors of G.o.d's sea and sky, and a sympathy born of constant communion, which made both ship and captain a part of the elements about them, and turned them into servants, and not masters.

The naval captains of 1812 had learned this freemasonry of sea and sky, and one incident--a typical one--will show it as no mere words can do.

Its characteristics are Yankee pluck and old-fashioned Yankee seamanship.

The frigate "Const.i.tution"--of glorious memory--in 1812 gave the British squadron which surrounded her startling proof of the niceties of Yankee seamanship. There never has been a race for such a stake, and never will be. Had "Old Ironsides" been captured, there is no telling what would have been the deadly effect on the American fortunes. It was the race for the life of a nation.

The "Const.i.tution" was the country's hope and pride, and Captain Hull knew it. He felt that "Old Ironsides" could never fail to do the work required of her. So for four days and nights the old man towed her along, the British frigates just out of range, until he showed clean heels to the entire squadron. The ingenuity and deft manuvring of the chase has no parallel in the history of this or any other country in the world.

With hardly a catspaw of wind, Hull drifted into sight of the British fleet off the Jersey coast. Before he knew it, they brought the wind up with them, and his position was desperate. There were four frigates and a ship-of-the-line spread out in a way to take advantage of any breath of air. Hull called away his boats, and running lines to them, sent them ahead to tow her as best they might. The British did still better, for they concentrated the boats of the squadron on two ships, and gained rapidly on the American. Hull cut ports over the stern, and ran two 18-pounders out of his cabin windows, where he began a continuous fire on the enemy. The British ships shifted their helms and took up positions on the quarters of the frigate, unable to approach too closely with their boats for fear of the "Const.i.tution's" stern-guns, which dropped their hurtling shot under their very bows.

The desperate game had only begun. Hull, finding that he had but one hundred and fifty feet of water under him, decided to kedge her along. In a few minutes the largest boat was rowing away ahead with a small anchor on board, stretching out half a mile of cable. The anchor dropped, the men hauled in roundly and walked away with the line at a smart pace. It was heart-breaking work, but the speed of the ship was trebled. By the time the vessel was warped up to the first anchor another one was ready for her, and she clawed still further out of the enemy's reach. The British did not at first discover the magic headway of the American, and not for some time did they attempt to follow suit.

Then a breeze came up. Hull hauled his yards to it, picked up his boats without slacking sail, and went ahead. But hardly were the sails drawing when the wind died away again. One of the ships came into range, and there was nothing for it but to go back to the kedging. Three times did this occur, the captain, with his eye on the dog-vane, jockeying her along as a skipper would his racing-yacht. The men had now been at their quarters for thirty-six hours without rest or sleep. But at the order they dropped into the boats again, ready for anything.

Another breeze sprang up now and held for two hours. Like logs the sailor-men tumbled over on the decks, nearly dead for lack of sleep. On the afternoon of the third day of the chase the "Const.i.tution" lost the wind and the enemy kept it. Back again to kedging they went, weary and sick at heart.

But relief was in sight. A great cloud hove up on the southeastern horizon, and the black squall that followed was a G.o.dsend to the "Const.i.tution" and her weary crew. Hull knew the Englishmen would not like the looks of the squall. No more did he. But he kept his boats at the towing, nevertheless.

He stationed his men at the halyards and down-hauls, and had everything in hand for the shock. He calmly watched the on-coming line of froth, growing whiter every minute, while his officers came to him and begged him to take in his sail. But wait he did until the first breath stirred his royals.

Then the shrill pipe of the boatswain called the boats alongside of the "Const.i.tution."

They were not a moment too soon. As the men were hooking the tackles the blast struck the ship. Over she heeled, almost on her beam ends, the boats tossed up like feather-weights. The yards came down with a rush, and the sails flew up to the quarter-blocks, though the wind seemed likely to blow them out of the bolt-ropes. She righted herself in a moment, though, and so cleverly had Hull watched his time that not a boat was lost.

Among the enemy all was disorganization. Every sail was furled, and some of their boats went adrift. Then, as the friendly rain and mist came down, the wily Yankee spread his sails--not even furled--and sailed away on an easy bowline at nine knots an hour.

The race was won. Before the Englishmen could recover, Hull managed by wetting his sails to make them hold the wind, and soon the enemy was but a blur on his western horizon. Then the British gave it up.

The superiority of Yankee seamanship was never more marked than in this chase. The British had the wind, the advantage of position, the force, and lacked only the wonderful skill and indomitable perseverance of the American, who, with everything against him, never for a moment despaired of pulling gallant "Old Ironsides" out of the reach of his slow-moving enemy.

The difficult manuvre of picking up his boats without backing a yard or easing a sheet he repeated again and again, to the wonderment of his adversaries, whose attempts in this direction failed every time they tried it in a smart breeze. Hull's tactics at the coming of the squall were hazardous, and under any other circ.u.mstances would have been suicidal. For a skipper to have his boats two cable-lengths away from his ship, with his royals flapping to the first shock of a squall, is bad seamanship. But if tackles are hooked and men are safe aboard there is no marine feat like it.

The naval history of this country is full of such instances. Captain Charles Stewart, on the same ship, did a wonderful thing. In his fight with the "Cyane" and the "Levant" he delivered a broadside from both batteries at the same time. Then, shifting his helm under cover of the smoke, he backed his topsails and drew out sternward from the enemy's fire, taking a new position, and delivering another broadside, which brought about their surrender.

The war-ship of fifty years ago was as different from the battle-ship of to-day as a caravel from a torpedo-boat. With half the length and a third the tonnage, the old "ship-of-the-line" had three times as many men as the modern sea-fighter. Yet, with a thousand men aboard, she had work for them all. More than two acres of canvas were to be handled, and over a hundred guns were to be served, loaded, and fired. A thousand pieces of running-gear were to be rove and manned. The huge topsails, weighing, with their yards, many tons, needed on their halyards half a hundred men. Great anchors were to be broken from their sandy holds, and the capstan-bars, double-banked, hove around to the sound of the merry chantey and deep-voiced trumpet. Homeward bound, the business of anchor-hoisting turned into a mad scene, and many a rude jest and hoa.r.s.e song turned the crowded fo'c's'le into a carnival of jollity.

In matters of routine and training the crews of the American frigates differed little from those of England. The sailor-men of the United States, though newer to the work of navigating the big ships, were smart seamen, and could cross or bring down their light yards, send down their masts, or clear for action with the oldest and very best of England's men-o'war's-men.

The ships themselves differed little in general construction. During the war of 1812, of large frigates we possessed but the "Const.i.tution," the "President," and the "Constellation." Though built upon models patterned after the accepted standards of the period, they were somewhat smaller than the British vessels and usually carried a lighter armament. Their unbroken list of victories during the war with England is remarkable when one considers what the young nation was contending against, both at home and abroad, and how little aid Congress had given the infant navy.

It seems really wonderful how a large body of men, numbering from three hundred to six hundred, and later a thousand or more, could find comfort and a home from one year's end to another in a s.p.a.ce only two hundred feet long and fifty feet wide.

But Jack is nowhere so comfortable as aboard ship. He is used to prescribed limits, and crawls into his hammock at night happy that the s.p.a.ce is no greater. There is a companionship, he thinks, in close quarters, and he likes them.

In the old ships it was a matter of great importance to provide comfortable quarters for the great crews they were obliged to carry.

In England, during the first years of the century, the complement of a "Seventy-four" was five hundred and ninety, and even six hundred and forty men. Hammocks seem to have been used during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when they were called "nets," probably because they were made of rope-yarn.

The officers were then, as now, given the after part of the ship. A wooden bulkhead separated the cabins of the officers from the main-decks, where the men lived, though when the ship was cleared for action the bulkheads were taken down and all movable property both of officer and man was taken below-deck.

This gave a clean sweep of the deck from bow to stern. The steerage had from two to six broadside-guns in it, and even the captain had to live with a couple of bra.s.s stern-chasers and a broadsider or two.

The grandest line-of-battle-ship ever built for this country was the old "Pennsylvania." She was made of wood throughout, two hundred and twenty feet long and fifty-eight feet beam, with a draft of twenty-five feet of water and thirty-five hundred tons displacement,--just one-third of that of the modern "Iowa." Eleven hundred men could swing their hammocks on her wide decks, where no modern gun-carriages or steel compartments broke the long sweep from the cabin forward. Her sides were of oak, with a thickness of eighteen inches at the upper gun-ports and thirty-two inches at the water-line, almost heavy enough at long range to resist the shot of a modern rifle. Her sixteen inches were proof against her own fire at a mile. On her three fighting-decks she carried sixteen 8-inch guns, the heaviest they had in those days, and one hundred and four 32-pounders. Her mainmast was over two hundred feet long, and with all sail set she could leg it at twelve knots an hour.

But compare her with the modern "Indiana." The "Pennsylvania" weighed less than the armor of the "Indiana" alone. The "Indiana" has but sixteen guns, against one hundred and twenty on the "Pennsylvania;" but that broadside can send two tons of tempered steel at a single discharge. The old 8-inch guns of the "Pennsylvania" could send a sh.e.l.l through fifteen inches of oak at a distance of a mile--the equivalent of half an inch of steel.

The range of a modern rifle is from five to twelve miles; the penetration is almost anything you please in the way of steel armor.

The "Pennsylvania's" sh.e.l.ls at point-blank range would hardly make a perceptible dent in the "Indiana's" steel armor, and the old cast-iron shot would roll harmlessly down the new ship's sides. But one explosive sh.e.l.l from the "Indiana" would go through the "Pennsylvania" from stem to stern, and would splinter and burn her beyond repair.

The "Pennsylvania" cost the government, in 1837, nearly seven hundred thousand dollars; a fabulous sum for a battle-ship in those days. The "Indiana" cost three millions and a half,--only two hundred and fifty thousand dollars less than the sum paid for that vast territory bought from Napoleon, and known as the "Louisiana Purchase," and about half the sum paid for the acquisition of Alaska from Russia.

The statistics are interesting. According to official authority, in putting this vessel together seven hundred tons of rivets alone were used.

About four hundred plans were made for the hull and about two hundred and fifty plans and drawings were made for the engines. These would take a force of one hundred men a year to complete.

The engines and machinery alone weigh about nine hundred tons. The smoke-stacks are about sixteen feet in diameter. Each of the main engines is so enormous that under the great frames, in the economy of s.p.a.ce and construction, are two smaller engines, the sole mission of which is to start the big ones. There are about sixty-six separate engines for various purposes. The condensing-tubes, placed end to end, would cover a distance of twelve miles. Thirty tons of water fill her boilers, which would stand a pressure of one hundred and sixty pounds to the square inch. Three dynamos provide the electricity,--a plant which would light a town of five thousand inhabitants. There are twenty-one complete sets of speaking-tubes and twenty-four telephone stations.

The two great turrets are clad with nineteen inches of toughened steel.

In each of these turrets are two 13-inch guns. Each of these guns is about fifty feet long and weighs sixty-one tons. There are eight 8-inch guns on the superstructure, in sets of twos, and amidships on the main-deck are four 6-inch rifles. In ten minutes, firing each 13-inch gun once in two minutes, and using all the other guns at their full power, the "Indiana"

could fire about sixty tons of death-dealing metal.

The millennium has not yet been reached, but such awful force makes universal peace a possibility. What the immediate future holds forth in naval architecture and gunnery is a matter which excites some curiosity, for it almost seems as though perfection, according to the standard of the end of the century, has been reached. And yet we already know of certain changes, improvements, and inventions, the direct outcome of the Spanish war, which are to be made on the vessels now contracted for, which affect importantly the government of the ship; and so it may be that the next twenty years will show as great an evolution as have the two decades just past.

But whatever the future may bring, it has been a marvellous and momentous change from the old navy to the new. Since the "Monitor""Merrimac" fight no country has been quicker to profit by the lessons of the victory of iron over wood and steel over iron than the United States.

But the navy that is, however glorious its achievements, can never dim the glory of the navy that was, though sailor-men, old and new, know that in a test of ship and ship, and man and man, the flag of this country will continue to fly triumphant.

FARRAGUT IN MOBILE BAY