The Floating Light of the Goodwin Sands, R. M. Ballantyne [polar express read aloud .txt] 📗
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
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The duties of the Corporation, as described in their charters generally, were to “treat and conclude upon all and singular articles anywise concerning the science or art of mariners.” A pretty wide and somewhat indefinite range! At the present time these duties are, as follows:—
To maintain in perfect working order all the lighthouses, floating lights, and fog-signal stations on the coasts of England; and to lay down, maintain, renew, and modify all the buoys, beacons, and sea-signals; to regulate the supply of stores, the appointment of keepers, and constantly to inspect the stations—a service which entails unremitting attention upon the members, some of whom are always on duty, either afloat in the steam-vessels or on land journeys.
To examine and license pilots for a large portion of our coasts; and to investigate generally into all matters relative to pilotage.
To act as nautical advisers with the Judge of the High Court of Admiralty, a duty which frequently engages some of the Brethren for considerable periods of time on intricate causes of the greatest importance.
To survey and inspect the channels of the Thames and the shoals of the North Sea, and other points of the coast at which shifting, scouring, growth or waste of sand may affect the navigation, and require to be watched and notified.
To supply shipping in the Thames with ballast.
The Elder Brethren have also to perform the duty of attending the Sovereign on sea-voyages.
In addition to all this, it has to superintend the distribution of its extensive charities, founded on various munificent gifts and legacies, nearly all given or left for the benefit of “poor Jack” and his relatives; and to manage the almshouses; also the affairs of the House on Tower Hill, and the engineering department, with its superintendence of new works, plans, drawings, lanterns, optical apparatus, etcetera—the whole involving, as will be obvious to men who are acquainted with “business,” a mass of detail which must be almost as varied as it is enormous.
The good influence of the operations of the Trinity louse might be shown by many interesting instances. Here is one specimen; it has reference to ballast-heaving:—
“Formerly the ballast, when laid in barge or lighter alongside the ship to be supplied, was heaved on board by men who were hired and paid by various waterside contractors, and subjected to great hardships, not only from the greed of their employers, but from a demoralising system of payment through publicans and local harpies. These evils were altogether removed by the establishment of a Heavers’ Office under control of the Trinity House, where men could attend for employment, and where their wages could be paid with regularity, and free from extortionate deduction.”
Many more examples might be given, but were we to indulge in this strain our chapter would far exceed its proper limits.
The light-vessels belonging to the Corporation are 43 in number: 38 in position and 5 in reserve to meet casualties. (See note 2.) Of lighthouses there are 76; sixty-one of which, built of brick, stone, or timber, are on shore; eleven, of granite, are on outlying rocks; and four, on iron piles, are on sandbanks. There are 452 buoys of all shapes and sizes on the coast, and half as many more in reserve, besides about 60 beacons of various kinds, and 21 storehouses in connection with them. Also 6 steam-vessels and 7 sailing tenders maintained for effecting the periodical relief of crews and keepers, shifting and laying buoys, etcetera.
The working staff which keeps the whole complex machinery in order, consists of 7 district superintendents, 11 local agents, 8 buoy-keepers, 21 storekeepers, watchmen, etcetera; 177 lighthouse-keepers, 427 crews of floating lights, 143 crews of steam and sailing vessels, and 6 fog-signal attendants—a total of 800 men.
Among the great and royal personages who have filled the office of Master of the Corporation of Trinity House, we find, besides a goodly list of dukes and earls—the names of (in 1837) the Duke of Wellington, (1852) H.R.H. Prince Albert, (1862) Viscount Palmerston, and (1866) H.R.H. the Duke of Edinburgh. The last still holds office, and H.R.H. the Prince of Wales heads the list of a long roll of titled and celebrated honorary Brethren of the Corporation.
We make no apology for the interpolation of this chapter, because if the reader has skipped it no apology is due, and if he has not skipped it, we are confident that no apology will be required.
Note 1. The service which the Corporation of Trinity House renders to the coasts of England, is rendered to those of Scotland by the Commissioners of Northern Lights, and to those of Ireland by the Commissioners of Irish Lights—both, to some extent, under the supervision of the Trinity House.
The floating lights of England are illuminated by means of lamps with metallic reflectors, on what is styled the catoptric system. The dioptric system, in which the rays of light are transmitted through glass, has been introduced into the floating lights of India by the Messrs Stevenson, C.E., of Edinburgh. The first floating light on this system in India was shown on the Hoogly in 1865. Since then, several more dioptric lights have been sent to the same region, and also to Japan in 1869, and all reports agree in describing these lights as being eminently successful.
The river Hoogly. Off Calcutta. Tropical vegetation on the shore. Glittering sunshine on the water. Blue sky and fleecy clouds overhead. Equally blue sky and fleecy clouds down below. A world of sky and water, with ships and boats, resting on their own inverted images, in the midst. Sweltering heat everywhere. Black men revelling in the sunshine. White men melting in the shade. The general impression such, that one might almost entertain the belief that the world has become white-hot, and the end of time is about to be ushered in with a general conflagration.
Such is the scene, reader, to which we purpose to convey you.
The day was yet young when a large vessel shook out her topsails, and made other nautical demonstrations of an intention to quit the solid land ere long, and escape if possible from the threatened conflagration.
“I wonder when those brutes will be sent off,” said the first mate of the ship to the surgeon, who stood on the poop beside him.
“What brutes do you refer to?” asked the surgeon, who was no other than our young friend Stanley Hall.
“Why, the wild beasts, to be sure. Have you not heard that we are to have as passengers on the voyage home two leopards, an elephant, and a rhinoceros?”
“Pleasant company! I wonder what Neptune will say to that?” said Stanley, with a laugh, as he walked forward to ask the opinion of the owner of the said Neptune. “I say, Welton, we are to have an elephant, a rhinoceros, and two leopards, on this voyage.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, what will Neptune say to it?”
“Oh, he won’t mind, sir,” replied Jim, patting the head of the large Newfoundland dog with grey paws which stood beside him.
Jim and Stanley had taken a fancy to each other when on board the Nora. The former had carried out a plan of going to sea, in order to be out of the way if he should happen to be wanted as a witness at the trial of Morley Jones, which event he felt certain must take place soon. He had made application to Stanley, who spoke to Mr Durant about him,—the result being that Jim obtained a berth on board the ship Wellington, which stood A1 at Lloyds. Hence we find him in the Hoogly.
“Neptune is a wise dog, sir,” continued Jim; “he don’t feel much put out by curious company, and is first-rate at taking care of himself. Besides, there is no jealousy in his nature. I suppose he feels that nobody can cut him out when he has once fairly established a friendship. I don’t grudge the dive off the bulwarks of the old Gull, when I saved Neptune, I assure you.”
“He was worth saving,” remarked Stanley, stooping to pat the meek head of the dog.
“Yes, I heard last night of the expected passengers,” pursued Jim, “and am now rigging up tackle to hoist ’em on board. I meant to have told you of ’em last night, but we got into that stiff argument about teetotalism, which put it completely out of my head.”
“Ah, Welton, you’ll never convince me that teetotalism is right,” said Stanley, with a good-humoured laugh. “Not that I care much about wine or spirits myself, but as long as a man uses them in moderation they can do him no harm.”
“So I thought once, sir,” returned Jim, “but I have seen cause to change my mind. A healthy man can’t use them in moderation, because use is abuse. Stimulants are only fit for weaklings and sick folk. As well might a stout man use crutches to help him to walk, as beer or brandy to help him to work; yet there are some strong young men so helpless that they can’t get on at all without their beer or grog!”
“Come, I’ll join issue with you on that point,” said Stanley, eagerly, for he was very fond of an argument with Jim, who never lost his temper, and who always paid his opponent the compliment of listening attentively to what he had to say.
“Not just now,” replied Jim, pointing towards the shore; “for yonder comes a boat with some of the passengers we were talking of.”
“Is that tackle rigged, Welton?” shouted the mate.
“It is, sir,” replied Jim.
“Then stand by, some of you, to hoist these leopards aboard.”
When the little boat or dinghy came alongside, it was observed that the animals were confined in a large wooden cage, through the bars of which they glared savagely at the half-dozen black fellows who conveyed them away from their native land. They seemed to be uncommonly irate. Perhaps the injustice done them in thus removing them against their will had something to do with it. Possibly the motion of the boat had deranged their systems. Whatever the cause, they glared and growled tremendously.
“Are you sure that cage is strong enough?” asked the mate, casting a dubious look over the side.
“Oh yes, massa—plenty strong. Hould a Bengal tiger,” said one of the black fellows, looking up with a grin which displayed a splendid double row of glittering teeth.
“Very well, get the slings on, Welton, and look sharp, bo’s’n, for more company of the same kind is expected,” said the mate.
The bo’s’n—a broad, short, burly man, as a boatswain always is and always ought to be, with, of course, a terrific bass voice, a body outrageously long, and legs ridiculously short—replied, “Ay, ay, sir,” and gave some directions to his mates, who stood by the hoisting tackles.
At the first hoist the appearance of the cage justified the mate’s suspicions, for the slings bent it in so much that some of the bars dropped out.
“Avast heaving,” roared the boatswain. “Lower!” Down went the cage into the dinghy. The bars were promptly replaced, and the slings fastened in better position.
“Try it again, bo’s’n,” said the mate.
The order to hoist was repeated, and up went the cage a second time, but it bent as before, so that several bars again slipped out, leaving the leopards sufficient space to jump through if they chose.
“Lower!” yelled the mate.
The men obeyed promptly—rather too promptly! The cage went down by the run into the boat,
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