Coffee.

_Supper._

Bologna Sausage.

Rice Pudding.

Jelly.

Bread and b.u.t.ter.

Tea.

The menus of every ship have to be forwarded to the flagship every week so that the Admiral may observe whether the men have had the proper kind of food. No, Jack no longer kicks seriously about his food on a warship.

No workingman in the world gets better.

Take the libraries nowadays. There are two of them on every ship, the ship's library and the crew's library. The officers use the ship's library. It is scattered about the officers' quarters in various cases, some in the wardroom, some in the Captain's or Admiral's quarters, some in the steerage. There are about thirty cla.s.sifications, dealing with technical subjects, with history, travel, adventure, poetry, a limited amount of fiction and so on. The crew's library is three times larger.

There is a great deal of history and travel and adventure and some science in it, but the larger part is made up of as good fiction as the English language provides. The cla.s.sic authors are represented, but a large amount of the newer fiction is also represented. You find Kipling, Anthony Hope, E. W. Hornung, W. W. Jacobs, Jack London, Weir Mitch.e.l.l, Booth Tarkington, S. J. Weyman, along with Bret Harte, Mark Twain, R. L.

Stevenson, Scott, Thackeray, Charles Reade, Washington Irving, Bulwer-Lytton and so on.

And the men read these books! Far into the night you will come across some youngsters whose hammock is near a light and who cannot sleep straining his eyes in reading some book. At any time when the smoking lamp is lit and the men have knocked off work if you walk through the ship you will probably find 150 men reading books. Their a.s.sociation with the best fiction and best history is constant. They discuss these books and they get a fund of information that no other grade of men in a factory receive.

And how was it in the old days? Melville tells about it in his "White Jacket," the book that relates to the old frigate United States in 1843.

He says:

"There was a public library on board paid for by Government and entrusted to the custody of one of the marine corporals, a little, dried up man of a somewhat literary turn. He had once been a clerk in a post office ash.o.r.e, and having been long accustomed to hand over letters when called for he was now just the man to hand over books. He kept them in a large cask on the berth deck, and when seeking a particular volume had to capsize it like a barrel of potatoes. This made him very cross and irritable, as most all librarians are. Who had the selection of these books I do not know, but some of them must have been selected by our chaplain, who so pranced on Coleridge's 'High German Horse.'"

"Mason Good's 'Book of Nature,' a very good book, to be sure, but not precisely adapted to literary tastes, was one of these volumes; and Macchiavelli's 'Art of War,' which was very dry fighting; and a folio of Tillotson's sermons, the best of reading for divines indeed, but with little relish for a main top man; and Locke's Essays, incomparable essays, everybody knows, but miserable reading at sea; and Plutarch's Lives--superexcellent biographies, which pit Greek against Roman in beautiful style, but then, in a sailor's estimation, not to be mentioned with the lives of the Admirals; and Blair's Lectures, University Edition, a fine treatise on rhetoric, but having nothing to say about nautical phrases, such as 'splicing the main brace,' 'pa.s.sing a gammoning,' 'puddin'ing the dolphin,' and 'making a carrick-bend,'

besides numerous invaluable but unreadable tomes that might have been purchased cheap at the auction of some college professor's library."

The sailorman has lots of recreation nowadays. Three times a week, Wednesday, Sat.u.r.day and Sunday nights, the band plays for him on the fo'c's'le deck. He seizes his mate and he dances wildly, madly or slowly and gracefully, as he pleases. You see as fine dancing there as you can see in a fashionable ballroom in any capital of the world. He has his cards, his pets--dogs, cats, birds--and he foregathers from time to time to sing. He likes to box and play baseball and to row, and the Government provides for suitable athletic equipment for his sports. He loves a boxing contest on the quarter deck with all the officers looking on and the rules of the ring enforced rigidly. It gladdens his heart to applaud and to hear others applaud, and he was much rejoiced in Callao when several Peruvians who were the guests of the New Jersey's wardroom at a boxing contest, sang out in their delight:

"Viva la box fight!"

Jack laughed at that long and hearty. He loves rowing contests and he and his mates on a single ship frequently wager as much as $10,000 on their own crew. Jack goes broke for months sometimes on these races.

Sometimes a man will bet from $500 to $1,000 or $1,200 on his crew and he'll be all in for months afterward, but he likes a run for his money.

When he wins all hands know it at the next liberty and Jack and his friends have trouble in toeing a scam, but Lord! what a good time they've had!

Then there is the ship's canteen that ministers to Jack's comfort. The canteen is not like what an army canteen used to be, a place where drinks were served, but it's a country store. In it Jack can buy tobacco, stationery, soap, little articles of clothing, thread and needles, knickknacks--and above all things else, candy. You see, Jack gets nothing to drink but water in various forms on ship and he runs to sweets. Many a ship carries away with her on a cruise two or three tons of candy in starting out. In less than six weeks the Louisiana's canteen had sold more than $2,000 worth of candy to the crew.

The canteen makes a small profit so as to overcome losses by the deterioration of goods, but all its wares are sold practically to Jack at cost price. It is for his benefit exclusively that he gets the best quality of goods at the lowest prices. It is under charge of the ship's paymaster and it is financed much as the ship's messes are. What profits there are go to swelling the athletic fund or perhaps to provide for a minstrel show; anyhow, it all goes toward making Jack's life on ship as comfortable as possible.

So Jack eats well and sleeps well and he works and plays with zest. He sings and dances and perhaps he gets more fun out of a minstrel show on board than any other thing. In Callao harbor the Louisiana had its minstrel show. On the after part of the quarter deck was a stage about twenty by twenty-five feet. It had flies and wings and all the upper and lower entrances. It had three drop curtains, one of them with "Asbestos"

painted on it. It had footlights and spotlights. It had red lights with "Exit" and "Fire Escape" lettered on them. Every bit of the stage scenery was painted by expert men on the ship. Every bit of electric lighting was done by the ship's crew. It was as creditable as most of the scenic and stage work in a large theatre. The quarter deck was all shut in and canopied and you could scarcely realize that you were not in a modern theatre.

All the crew attended the show. Delegations of twenty-five men from each of the battleships in the fleet came. They were met at the port gangway by ushers who had reserved seats for them. Programmes, the woodcuts for which were made on board--and the entire printing was done there as well--were handed out to each person as he took his place. The officers were given programmes at the starboard gangway by pages in bolero and plush breeches and silk stockings. An old naval custom was revived by having side boys with lanterns.

It was the old fashioned minstrel show, with end men and jokes and songs for the first part and stunts and sketches for the second. More than 1,600 men looked on. Imagine 1,600 men seated in comfort on a quarter deck! My, how the ships of the navy have grown! The 12-inch guns were tilted down and seats covered with flags built on them. The turret was utilized for a gallery. The after-bridge took the place of n.i.g.g.e.r heaven. There was no sign of a warship about, all the implements of trade being hidden. Only the uniforms of the men suggested the thought of a navy; those and the grinds on the officers and ships.

The singing was quite as good as that of any travelling minstrel show.

The company had a manager, secretary, treasurer, pianist, electrician, stage manager, master of properties, costumer, carpenter and all the rest of a regular theatrical outfit, and all hands voted it as good as anything you could see in that line on any stage.

And when it was all over, flags were dropped, ropes loosened and the trappings came down in a jiffy, just as a circus packs up its effects.

The visitors were marched to certain gangways. They went down as their boats, which were lying alongside, were called, and in thirty minutes all the guests were gone, all the trappings put away and the routine of ship life was in progress as if there never had been the slightest interruption. But Jack had had a night of nights.

It is by making Jack happy and comfortable, giving him wholesome pleasure as well as wholesome food, that the best fighting results are obtained. There is no better sailor afloat, mentally or morally. He is intelligent, willing and he loves his flag. Of course, he's human. He will streak for a saloon when he gets liberty. He spends his money on sh.o.r.e foolishly. He's a child in many respects, for Uncle Sam looks after him on shipboard paternally, tells him what to wear and when, gives him his food in scientific measure, looks after his health, provides amus.e.m.e.nt and mental diversion for him. He gets in the brig occasionally and he's mighty sorry for it. He gets scolded now and then, but he tries to do his duty. Watch his enthusiasm when target practice approaches and see him sneak out before breakfast and do extra work just for the love of it and you'll appreciate what it means.

Growl? Lord bless your soul! he wouldn't be happy and the ship wouldn't be happy and the officers would be alarmed if he didn't growl. But sulk!

Not on your life! He wants his ship to get the record in shooting, rowing, boxing, economic consumption of coal, signal work, speed and every other contest that enters into fleet life. He'll back his money on his own ship and when he fights he's willing to go down fighting with her if that's to be his fate.

Dibdin's ballads of the true English sailor are as true to-day as when they were written, a century ago. And they are as true of the American sailor as of the English. Here is one that sums up Jack's seagoing life:

Jack dances and sings and is always content; In his vows to his la.s.s he'll ne'er fail her.

His anchor's a-trip when his money's all spent; And this is the life of a sailor.

And so you see that a warship may have guns and magazines and ponderous engines and coal bunkers and deep recesses in her hold, and her purpose may be to destroy and kill, but with it all there's good fellowship abounding in her gradation of compartments, and perhaps on reading this you get some indication of what was meant in the beginning of this article by the statement that socially a warship houses a series of clubs. Good clubs they are, too!

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Courtesy of Collier's Weekly_

Entering the Golden Gate]

CHAPTER XIV

END AND LESSONS OF THE CRUISE TO THE PACIFIC

With the arrival of the battleship fleet at San Francisco on May 6, 1908, the longest cruise ever made by a fleet of battleships of any navy came to an end. About one month was consumed by brief stays in various California anchorages on the way from Magdalena Bay to San Francisco. On the long cruise the fleet was reviewed by the Presidents of four republics--President Roosevelt, at Hampton Roads; President Penna, at Rio Janeiro; President Montt, at Valparaiso, and President Pardo, at Callao. According to the log of the Louisiana, on which the Sun's correspondent sailed, the fleet cruised 13,738.7 knots, or in round numbers 13,750 sea miles. Estimates of the exact distance vary on the sixteen battleships, according to the calculation of individual navigators. Some days' runs were estimated by dead reckoning, and there was no way of determining to a knot the distance that the ships travelled.

The elapsed time from leaving Hampton Roads on December 16 to dropping anchors in San Francisco harbor on May 6, was 141 days 7 hours. The actual time of cruising for the 13,750 knots voyage was 61 days 19 hours. Practically 80 days (79 days 12 hours, to be exact) were consumed in various ports. Of this time a period of 30 days was occupied largely in practice at Magdalena Bay. In Trinidad there was a stay of 6 days; in Rio, 10; Punta Arenas, 7; Callao, 9; or sixty-two days in round numbers. The rate of steaming was practically 10 knots. Occasionally 11 and even 12 knots was tried; several times speed was reduced to 8 knots and once or twice to 6 for experimental purposes or because of some mishap to a ship. Such accidents were few and at most only delayed the fleet an hour or two.

Allowing reasonable time to coal in foreign ports and eliminating the time for target practice at Magdalena Bay and the various stops along the California coast, the trip could have been made easily at 10 knots steaming in less than eighty days. One day could have been saved at Trinidad, 5 at Rio, 2 at Punta Arenas and 4 at Callao. These with 30 days at Magdalena Bay and 21 spent in California stopping places make 63 days which could have been cut off the elapsed time if the movement had been purely military.

These data are valuable as showing what an American battleship fleet can do if called upon in the way of steaming long distances. All the strictly unnecessary time spent in foreign and home ports, with the exception of Magdalena Bay, was occupied with social duties and pleasures. The Government now knows it would take seventy-eight days without undue speeding to send a fleet of battleships from Hampton Roads to San Francisco, providing all coaling arrangements are made in advance.

The longest run of the cruise was from Trinidad to Rio, a distance of 3,225 miles as the fleet sailed it, occupying thirteen days twenty hours. There was a strong head wind, a southeast trade wind. This and the persistent Amazon current caused the fleet to sail far out to the eastward along the northern coast of South America. The next longest run was from Callao to Magdalena Bay, 3,025 miles, occupying twelve days twenty-two hours. The trip from Punta Arenas to Callao, although only 2,693 miles long, occupied twelve days ten hours, largely because the fleet was slowed down on the way for nearly forty-eight hours to obtain data as to slow cruising, and also because of a fog. Slow speed was maintained for some time, in order not to enter Valparaiso harbor in advance of schedule time.

This trip from Atlantic to Pacific was supposed by people generally to be one of hazard and great daring. From the cruising standpoint it was almost a picnic. There was no bad weather to speak of. Off the River Plata there was half a storm one morning and the ships were shaken up a little as they emerged into the Pacific from the Magellan Strait, always a bad place. Not once, however, were table racks used on the ships and the heaviest roll the Louisiana experienced was less than twelve degrees. Other ships would probably tell a similar story.

There may have been some element of danger in pa.s.sing through the Magellan Strait, but otherwise the cruise was a summer jaunt over smooth seas and for the greater part of the time under blue skies. There were four days of intermittent fog after entering the Pacific and there were one morning and two hours one afternoon of fog on the Atlantic a day or two before the Strait of Magellan was reached. The pa.s.sage through the strait, the last thirty miles of which was sailed through quite a thick fog, was accomplished, according to commanding officers generally, with greater ease and less real danger than entering New York harbor and sailing up the Hudson River to the usual anchorage there.

The trip was one of surprises. The coolness of the people of Trinidad was as great a surprise as was the exuberant welcome of Brazil and other foreign countries. Rio's welcome was the most demonstrative, Callao's probably the most heartfelt, that of Punta Arenas the most unexpected.

There were two highly spectacular events on the cruise--the welcome at sea on the morning of January 29 by a squadron of the Argentine navy off the mouth of the River Plate and the entrance to and exit from Valparaiso harbor on the afternoon of February 14. The American and Argentine fleets exchanged national salutes on the high seas. Many naval officers believe this was the first time such an act of courtesy ever took place.

No naval officer ever remembered such a ceremonious call as was made at Valparaiso. With the Chilean ensign at the fore the ships made a great curve in the shape of a crescent in the harbor. On entering the port the ships fired a national salute of twenty-one guns in unison. On leaving the harbor each ship fired twenty-one guns as a personal salute to Chile's President, who had come out to review the parade. The day was glorious, the hills were crowded with people, the shipping in the harbor was all dressed. Every naval officer agreed that it was the most spectacular naval parade he ever saw. All were glad that this happened in a port of Chile, a country which not long ago was not over-friendly to us. The messages exchanged between Admiral Evans and the President and other officials of Chile were extremely cordial, and there can be no doubt that the visit to Valparaiso was highly beneficial in fully restoring good feeling between the countries.

All naval officers are of opinion that professionally the cruise was of great benefit both to the men and the ships. It was absolutely true, as Admiral Evans telegraphed the Navy Department from Magdalena Bay, that the vessels were in better condition when they arrived there than when they left Hampton Roads. They had been shaken down, as the expression goes. They had become a coherent force. A large quant.i.ty of work had been done on each of them such as is usually done in navy yards. The longer the cruise continued the more the truth of the naval saying that "the place for ships to be is at sea, not in navy yards" seemed confirmed.

A large part of the routine work on the ships was taken up with drills preliminary to target practice. The purpose of a warship is to shoot; it is a truism to say it. Hence the large amount of time given to learning how to shoot accurately and quickly was precisely what was needed on the fleet. The value of all this work will become known when the Navy Department decides to make public such of the records as may be deemed desirable regarding the work at Magdalena Bay. One may not speak freely of that work, but it is not beyond the limits of propriety to say that the American people will not be ashamed of the men behind the guns when even partial results are made known.

The voyage revealed the cruising qualities of the ships and many lessons were learned from incidental mishaps--as many lessons were learned at Magdalena Bay from similar causes as to the way to improve target shooting.