It was the intention of the writer to make this narrative simply a plain tale of the sea, describing mishaps, accidents and obstacles met with and expedients resorted to by the naval expedition that transferred the floating dry dock Dewey from Chesapeake Bay to the Philippine Islands. In putting the numerous events and incidents of the voyage together it appears that some account of the preparation and equipment of the expedition is necessary to save many explanations as the story progresses, and a few paragraphs will therefore be devoted to the fitting out before the actual seafaring begins.
The floating dock itself needs little description in these pages. It has been widely described and pictured in naval and technical journals and by the press at large, so it may be assumed that anyone sufficiently interested in the subject to read this article already knows what sort of structure we had to deal with. In a very general way, then it is only necessary to say that the dock is a rectangular box 500 feet long, 135 feet wide, and 18 feet deep, with side walls 14 feet thick and 45 feet high extending along almost the whole length of the longer sides. Viewed from a short distance, these high and narrow brown-painted side structures look remarkably like the breakers about the mouth of a coal mine or the grain elevators in the towns of the middle West and suggest not at all any form of known sea-going craft. The industrial expression of the whole fabric is added to by four tall sheet iron smoke pipes of the kind used on saw mills projecting from the tops of the side walls high into the air.
When equipped in all respects for sea, the dock’s weight, or in other words its displacement, was about 12,000 tons and its draft somewhat less than eight feet. Floating so lightly, more than ten feet of the main hull or pontoons extended above water which, with the side walls, made a sheer blank surface 55 feet high and 500 feet long upon which the wind might act to our disadvantage. In even the lightest breeze, unless dead ahead, the dock would trail off to leeward far from the course, while a moderate or fresh breeze abeam would set it over thirty degrees or more and seriously interfere with its steady towing. Even in a calm or a headwind we found that it would not tow straight but would yaw at intervals from one side to the other as a kite does in the air. With the wind anywhere forward of the beam the tendency of the dock was to head into the wind, which was natural, as the forward end was restrained by the towing bridle while the after end was free to drift off before the wind.
To offset to some extent the tendency of the dock to drift to leeward it was customary to let water into its ballast compartments. This reduced but slightly the area exposed to the wind, but the most important result was in adding greatly to the dead weight that the wind had to push through the water. Without engaging in any very refined mathematical calculations we found about 1,500 tons of water would sink the dock one foot, and 6,000 tons would increase the draft four feet. This method of adding to the weight and draft of the dock was always resorted to in high winds and heavy seas and was of great value in enabling it to resist both, the impact of the seas especially. The amount of water admitted varied with the weather from one to four feet, the latter being the prescription for a strong gale. This great addition to the weight of the dock of course made towing more difficult, but when water ballast was used the situation was generally such that the question of making progress on the course was one of secondary consideration.
The dock was never sunk enough to bring the pontoon deck awash, which would have required the admission of about ten feet of water, or 15,000 tons, and the subsequent obligation to pump it out. When the expedition was fitting out in the United States various newspapers freely spread abroad information as to how the dock ought to be handled in bad weather. One article that I remember stated in all seriousness that in a gale the dock would be submerged thirty feet and the towing vessels would then snugly moor themselves inside, there to lie in comfort and quiet until fair weather! The experiment was not tried: in fact it was quickly learned that proximity to the dock, even in moderate weather, was undesirable. A little experimenting was done in changing the trim of the dock so it would have a different draft at the ends, but no noticeable results followed, not withstanding the well-known advantage gained in towing a log by the big (or the little?) end, so well established by a steerage argument of great antiquity.
The greatest obstacle to towing that we encountered was in the structure of the dock itself in presenting a perfectly square wall-like surface to be dragged through the water and against head seas. Inasmuch as the law authorizing its construction specified that it was for use in the Philippine Islands, 12,000 miles from where it was built, it is strange that the design was not influenced by the knowledge that such a long voyage would be the first event in its history. Similar floating docks have been built with V-shaped or rounded ends to facilitate towing, and others have been taken to sea provided with false bows for the same purpose. Had this dock been fitted with sea-going ends or bows I may say with absolute certainty that the voyage to the Philippines would have been accomplished in two months less time and with much less risk of losing the dock; that thousands of dollars worth of towing gear destroyed by hard service would 'never have been used; that many more thousands of dollars worth of coal would not have been burned, and that the officers and men of the towing squadron would have been spared much anxiety, physical hardship, and, at times, actual peril. This, at least, is my belief after having seen the square—ended obstinate structure dragged by main strength, through fair weather and foul, across one hundred and ninety-seven degrees of the earth’s longitude.
About the middle of October, 1905, it was decided to start the dry dock for the Philippines via the Suez Canal, as soon as possible. A previous study of wind and weather conditions in different parts of the globe at different seasons of the year, made by officers on duty in the Navy Department, had resulted in the conclusion that the expedition should leave the United States early in December at the latest in order to have the best chances for good weather along the Suez route. It was already too late in the season by two months or more for the route by way of the Cape of Good Hope to be attempted, though it had been considered earlier. The orders eventually issued to the commander of the expedition did not specifically bind him to pursue any particular route, but directed him to deliver the dock to the commandant at the Cavite naval station, the manner of getting it there being left entirely to his good judgment.
The naval supply ship Glacier and the colliers Brutus and Caesar were designated as the towing ships and the work of fitting them for that service was taken in hand at the Boston and Norfolk Navy yards. Some time later the naval tug Potomac was detailed for the expedition, but as she is a tug pure and simple little or no preparation had to be made in her case. The principal work on the large ships consisted in installing towing machines and in removing from the after part of the upper decks all rails, stanchions, boat davits and other fittings that would interfere with the free scope of towing lines. On board the Glacier at the Boston Navy yard three large steel arches or towing frames were erected across the after deck to hold the tow-line up clear of the hand steering gear and over two small deck houses. These arches were capped with solid oak timbers a foot square and as hard as bone, being old ship material that had been seasoning for years, but in use we found that the steel towing hawser in working back and forth would bite into them like a saw and tear out big chunks of the tough fibre with every lateral movement. Later, at the New York Navy yard, the largest of these arches was reinforced with more oak covering and two heavy king posts, stepped on deck, were secured to it with steel bands, their object being to limit the athwartship travel of the tow-line. These towing frames were very clumsy and inconvenient, and they were not necessary, since the Brutus and Caesar were made fit for their work without them. On those vessels the towing machines were placed higher than on the Glacier and the hand steering gears were protected by timber casemates built over them. In consequence they had better control of their hawsers and a clearer space in which to handle them than we had on board the Glacier.
The towing engines for all three ships were supplied by the American Ship Windlass Company, of Providence, Rhode Island, and were the largest size (designated as No. 5) that the makers could deliver within the limited time allowed. Larger ones would have had to be made especially for the expedition, and it is unfortunate that time did not permit such manufacture. The ones we had were ponderous enough to look at and were of the size that had proved sufficient for the heavy tows of barges that one sees along the Atlantic coast of the United States, but they were not able to hold a 12,000-ton dock up against the weather of the Atlantic ocean in mid-winter. When only 500 miles off shore at the start the towing engine on the Caesar was disabled by teeth breaking out of the drum gear, and three weeks later in a gale in mid-ocean the one on the Brutus was literally torn to pieces and the dock set adrift by the tow-line going overboard. All three ships and the dock were provided with wireless telegraph outfits, electric searchlights and night signalling apparatus, all three installations essential to the work in prospect, and the wireless telegraph so much so that on some occasions confusion and possible disaster would have resulted but for the quick interchange of information by its means.
The selection of low-powered steamers for such a large under taking may be questioned, but when the most desirable requisites are considered it must appear that the ships employed were more suitable than high-powered cruisers or battleships could have been. Ability to carry coal for long periods at sea practically limited the choice to colliers, the coal problem in the case of the Glacier being met by putting 2000 tons into her holds and refrigerator spaces. The latter vessel was selected of course because of her cold storage outfit which enabled her to carry fresh provisions in ample quantity for all the vessels in the expedition. When towing under favorable conditions, the Glacier of 7,000 tons displacement developed from 1,700 to 2,000 horse-power; the Caesar, of 5,000 tons, developed about 1,200, and the Brutus, displacing 6,600 tons, developed only about 1,100 horsepower. That is, the actual indicated horsepower of the three big steamers was only about 4,000 altogether, which had to be applied to keeping their own weights, aggregating nearly 19,000 tons, in motion before any of it could be felt by the dock. At a glance it would seem that a single cruiser of 6,000 or 8,000 tons displacement capable of exerting 6,000 or 8,000 horsepower would have been better than all three of the towing ships combined. But aside from the question of prolonged coal and food supplies there are objections to such a rapid conclusion.
One objection is that the inertia of the heavy masses of the three ships moving uniformly, though slowly, served as a protection to the tow-lines against sudden jerks to which they would have been subjected by a light high-powered cruiser in rough weather. Another is that there is a sufficient element of danger in being shackled to an object like a dry dock in stormy unfrequented seas to make it desirable to have more than one ship present. Yet another objection lies in the fact that at one time or another we broke nearly every unit in the towing outfit at least once, showing that any increase of power would have only added to the troubles of the expedition. Any increase of speed would have been resisted in such a multiplying ratio by the square-fronted dock that abnormal power and great increase in dimensions (and cost) of towing gear would have been necessary to permit of any noticeable increase of speed. All things considered, the ships selected for the undertaking were as suitable as any that our navy list affords. The only really serious defect they had was that they were all single-screw vessels. When it was necessary, as it was many times, to take the dock and each other in tow in rough water and high winds at sea, much time and labor was lost and positive danger sometimes incurred because of the lack of handiness of these big and clumsy single screw ships.
Commander W. F. Fullam, of the Glacier, was selected as commander of the expedition late in October, and that energetic officer went immediately to the Patuxent River, where the dock was moored, to see what would be necessary to prepare it for sea. He found that everything in the line of preparation had yet to be done. Aside from the fact that the dock was afloat it was as unfit for sea as a newly finished storehouse in a navy-yard might be. There was not a fathom of chain or hawser for towing it, either on the dock or provided elsewhere; no working anchors, no chain cables for anchors, no capstan for handling anchors, no appliances for handling towing lines, “no nothing," literally. On the whole expanse of the great pontoon deck there was not a solitary ring bolt or link plate for stoppering chains or hooking leading blocks! The dock was moored with mushroom anchors at the corners but there was no provision for getting them in on deck in case of getting underway, no hawser pipes nor billboards onto which they could be hove for safe transportation. It is needless to enumerate here all that was found lacking at this inspection, but the thoroughness of Commander Fullam’s report deserves mention as well as the foresight shown by him as to what would be needed on such an unusual voyage. He specified not only the number and size of towing hawsers required but also the quantity of spun yarn that should be provided. In all things, great and small, the report was complete, and insistent in tone as to the genuine need for everything asked for. Among the important things asked for were, of course, such essentials as anchors and chains, a steam capstan, towing bitts, chain bridles, and life boats, but such lesser items as coaling trucks, rigger’s tools, deck stoppers and heaving lines were not overlooked.
It had now become the first of November, and the receipt of this report at the Navy Department set in motion much manufacture and preparation at widely separated points, each Bureau interested turning to with a will to hasten forward its own share of the work. The equipment shops at the Boston navy yard undertook the manufacture of a quantity of huge towing thimbles for 15-inch manila and 6-inch wire lines, with shackles, swivels and pelican hooks to go with them. Swivels weighing half a ton and shackles, thimbles and pelican hooks weighing a quarter of a ton each are unusual, but they were provided for this expedition and were none too heavy, as some of them were broken in use. The same Bureau from its Boston department provided. four 9,000-pound Dunn anchors and 480 fathoms of 2 1/2-inch chain for them, 360 fathoms of 2 1/2-inch chain for towing bridles, a great quantity of manila cordage, and many others items. A fine steam capstan was found by taking one from the armored cruiser New York, then laid up for repairs at Boston. The Wall Rope Works undertook the manufacture of twelve 15-inch manila hawsers, each 1,200 feet long, and the Roebling Bridge Works agreed to supply four 6-inch steel hawsers; also 200 fathoms long. Twelve of these were required, but the Roebling firm could not promise that number within the short time allowed and eight were ordered by cable from England. As soon as completed these heavy lines were sent to the New York navy yard where, under the supervision of Chief Boatswain William Anderson, they were fitted with the thimbles and shackles from Boston and otherwise prepared for use. Five of the big 15-inch lines were doubled by splicing the ends together and a towing thimble was secured in the bight at each end, the two parts being seized together to prevent cable-laying by stout lashings every two fathoms along the whole length. As thus made up, each one constituted a towing span weighing six tons which was an ugly object to run as a tow line and a worse one to haul back on board ship after it had been a month or more in the water. The steel hawsers were fitted with a thimble and shackle in one end, the other end being left free for clamping to the drum of the towing machine; they weighed about 7,000 pounds each. The plate accompanying this article [not reproduced in this web version] shows the details of all these fittings, but the order in which the various parts are assembled in the drawing is not meant to show the actual arrangement in use. At the New York navy yard also was provided a great quantity of other gear for the expedition—bale fenders, chafing mats, hook ropes, deck tackles, snatch blocks, oil bags, chain and manila straps, bull ropes, cork buoys for running messenger lines, etc., etc.
The Bureau of Yards and Docks set a force of men at work on the dock in the Patuxent River, building chain lockers, fitting link plates to the deck, installing the steam capstan, fitting boat davits, and remedying other deficiencies. In compliance with an urgent recommendation of Commander Fullam a wooden trestle work bridge was built across one end of the dock to afford means for handling bridles and tow lines. There was a steel swinging bridge at the other end of the dock to which purchases could be hooked for handling the towing gear and other heavy weights, but it was plainly essential that both ends of the dock be so fitted. By keeping a bridle and towing span shackled together and ranged on the deck ready for use at the rear end of the dock much time and labor was saved after the dock had been adrift, as towing could be resumed from that end, leaving the damages at the other end to be repaired at leisure. This belated completion of the dock was badly handicapped by being done at an inclement season of the year and at a point remote from supplies, where material and tools had to be brought from a distance, and where it was difficult to induce workmen to remain because there was no place for them to live except such as could be found in a peculiarly forlorn and squalid village. The result was that the work was much protracted and days were lost that would have been worth twice their length could they have been used in towing the dock at sea. There were some provoking delays in fitting out the ships, but in the end the towing ships were assembled in the Patuxent equipped and ready for work ten days before the dock was ready.
Something may now be said about the personnel of the expedition. The colliers had what are officially designated as “ merchant officers and crews.” The masters, mates and engineers were Americans, probably above the average of the competent self-reliant type so usual in our merchant marine. The crews were Chinese, a relic of former service in the Asiatic fleet, and were satisfactory, the men being well-behaved, industrious, and capable of doing their work well on deck and in the fire rooms. They knew no English and therefore there was no one on deck at night capable of reading or sending a signal except the officer in charge of the watch. This was a very disquieting situation, for in case of accident that individual would in all likelihood have to give his time to assuring the safety of his own ship, without any opportunity to warn others by signal. As a simple matter of safety English-speaking quartermasters or signalmen should have been assigned to those ships.
The Glacier had a regular naval crew, the usual run of men available on the receiving ships, and not selected in any way for this special service. If anything, this crew was somewhat below the average of a man-of-war crew in morale, the ship having been commissioned in Boston. The original crew was insufficient in numbers for the work of the ship, and upon the urgent recommendations of the commanding officer additions were granted until we finally left the United States with fifteen men in excess of complement. This being still inadequate, further additions were subsequently made by taking men from the Tacoma in the Mediterranean Sea. The seaman branch of this crew was sadly deficient in experience, as it was composed almost entirely of mere boys, just rated ordinary seamen, enlisted only a short time, with no sea service, and no naval experience except at the Newport training station. They were willing and intelligent, but with every day devoted to stevedores labor there was no opportunity to teach them how to become handy about a ship. Their inexperience was particularly trying in the matter of a lifeboat’s crew at sea, it being often necessary to communicate by boat with other vessels or the dock, and in rough weather it was really perilous to lower a boat manned by these boys. I am aware of the desirability of keeping experienced men in the fighting ships, but in view of the service ahead of the Glacier it seems that one good seaman might have been taken from each of a dozen ships of the Atlantic fleet without impairing their efficiency and a capable life boat’s crew in each watch thus provided for us.
The dock was manned by a composite crew, or rather by two crews, an arrangement not conducive to harmony or best endeavor. One consisted of a temporary crew shipped for the voyage, twenty-two men in all, including the sailing master and the two mates. The other nine men all told, including a dock master, was the permanent force of the Bureau of Construction and Repair, to remain with the dock after reaching its destination to attend to its maintenance and operation. The temporary crew comprised a rigger, whose services were found invaluable, a wireless telegraph operator, a “dock expert” at $300.00 per month, twelve seamen, cook, steward, and two messmen. The dock expert had been a superintendent or foreman with the company that built the dock and was so familiar with its fittings that he was a useful person to have on board. He became dissatisfied notwithstanding his high rate of pay, and resigned when we reached Port Said.
Of the seamen I cannot speak with enthusiasm. They were of the kind referred to in sea stories as deep water sailors and appear as interesting and even heroic characters in those works of fiction, but masters and mates whose opportunities for knowing them excel those of the sea writers do not hold them in great esteem. In the sea tales it usually appears that disloyalty to employers and insubordination to officers are reckoned as virtues in the forecastle, and from what I saw and heard of affairs on the dock it would seem that the men were average specimens of their kind and indulged their proclivities with much more freedom than is permitted by a forceful shipmaster. It is but just to say that at sea, well away from land, they did much excellent and hard work, but the shore seemed fatal to their energies: perhaps this is the reason why they are called deep water sailors. Sailors though they were by trade, they were far more lubberly in boats than were the young ordinary seamen of the Glacier, and they could not compare in a life boat with the Chinese crews of the colliers.
At Las Palmas, the first port where we stopped, these men left the dock half moored to the mole and went ashore almost in a body, remaining as long as they chose, behaving on shore in such manner as to cast discredit upon the expedition, and, in general, showed total disregard for the obligations they were under. Working parties from the towing ships had to go on board the dock to moor it properly and laborers from shore were actually hired to do the work of the crew while in that port. The sailing master appeared incapable of exercising any control over his men and the commander of the expedition could not legally discipline them because they were merchant seamen, shipped under the navigation laws, and entitled to a hearing before a United States Consul. Several of them deserted or were discharged at that port and their places filled by shipping new men. At that port also, authority was received from the Navy Department to add six seamen to the complement of the dock, the original allowance having been found insufficient. The new men taken on were mostly natives (Spaniards), and the dock proceeded toward a late Spanish colony with a crew that might, if inspired by patriotic fanaticism, have been disposed to scuttle it rather than see it become a feature of a naval station that so recently had been Spain’s.
[Editor's interjection: These statements on the nature of the crew, after being published in the Proceedings, raised the ire of the Dewey's Sailing Master, who published a rebuttal in the subsequent edition. That, too, has been transcribed and can be read here.]
[Editor's interjection: These statements on the nature of the crew, after being published in the Proceedings, raised the ire of the Dewey's Sailing Master, who published a rebuttal in the subsequent edition. That, too, has been transcribed and can be read here.]
The work of preparing the Glacier for the expedition was somewhat hampered at Boston by rains and cold weather peculiar to the advanced season and was not completed until the night of December 2. She left the navy yard the next day in a driving storm of sleet and rain, felt her way around the Nantucket shoals with the sounding machine, and arrived at the New York navy yard the afternoon of December 5. All the towing gear and supplies that had been collected there were ready for delivery: too ready in fact, for while our small crew was still on the wharf making fast the mooring lines a train of railway cars piled high with the 15-inch manila hawsers was backed down alongside the ship and a message delivered to the effect that the hawsers must all be stowed on board before sunset. With the force available we could with equal ease have taken down the Brooklyn bridge and stowed that in the hold within the same time limit. A week followed that is easily remembered. Railway cars, coal and provision barges, trucks, wagons, carts and boats, clustered about the ship with cordage and gear of all description, coal, frozen meat, ice, vegetables, paymaster’s stores, everything in the way of stores and supplies for six months for all the vessels of the expedition. Hundreds of men and horses delivering the goods and a working force of less than thirty on the Glacier to receive and stow them. As soon as the situation became known to the commandant large working parties were furnished from the receiving ship and from the yard departments and the work of loading the ship went forward rapidly, though uncomfortably because of the cold weather.
Commander H. H. Hosley reported for the command of the Glacier and the towing expedition December 11, Commander Fullam having been detached before the ship left Boston. The morning of December 13 we left the navy yard and proceeded to sea, entering the Chesapeake the following afternoon, where we had to anchor about 8 p. m., off Rappahannock Spit, because of very thick weather. Continued on up the bay the next morning in the face of a fierce northeast gale with rain, sleet and snow, arriving in the Patuxent River early in the afternoon. Took the Potomac alongside at once and transferred the gear and stores that we had brought for her from New York. She had arrived only an hour before we did, and the Brutus and Caesar had been there since the day before. We saw also for the first time, dimly through the driving snow, the enormous bulk of the dry dock, a curious looking object, but one that was to become very familiar before we were done with it.
The next morning at daylight we went alongside the dock, a difficult operation in the high wind prevailing and because there were no suitable fittings on the side of the dock for a vessel to make fast to. The Caesar came to our other side and we began transferring the great mass of material we had brought to both, the Brutus taking the place of the Caesar as soon as the latter had received all her gear. In some respects this was the most dangerous and uncomfortable period in the history of the expedition. A storm of sleet and snow had swept over the region just before and as a result our gear was all wet and everything covered with ice and snow, making the work in hand unusually difficult and cruel. Many of the weights to be handled were very heavy, the reels of wire hawsers, for instance, weighing over three tons and the manila hawsers five tons each. Owing to the slipping of straps and tackles several men received minor injuries and one officer, Boatswain Herbert, had a leg broken and had to be detached from the expedition. Another warrant officer, Boatswain Arthur Smith, was disabled for several days with a damaged jaw, but he was in luck because he very narrowly escaped being killed. The accident in which he was involved was caused by the slipping of an icy boom topping lift around the gipsy head of a winch, letting the boom come down by the run and allowing a steam launch with its crew to drop overboard from a height above the rail. Chief Boatswain Phillip Mullen sustained a fractured rib during this same strenuous period.
Within three days, one of which was Sunday, but not a day of rest, we had everything distributed to the different vessels and then had to go to work on the dock, which was found far from ready for sea. The crews of the Brutus and Caesar coaled the dock, a slow and difficult operation requiring several days because of the great height to which the coal had to be hoisted, and the Glacier's men were employed in moving a great number of keel and bilge blocks away from the ends of the dock and in disentangling the chain bridles from a confused pile and ranging them ready for use. As soon as the New York’s capstan was set up, the chains of the four 6,000-pound working anchors were stowed into the temporary chain lockers and the anchors pointed ready for letting go. The crew of the dock, before described, was on board at this time but was not at all conspicuous in these busy scenes. Our men did much hard and excellent work at this time amid very uncomfortable surroundings, and it seemed a pity that we had to do this heavy work at such an inclement season, when the dock had been there idle all through the pleasant autumn months.
The question of what lights should be carried by the flotilla naturally received consideration while other preparations were going forward. Commander Hosley came to this duty from the position of supervisor of the harbor of New York and as such was in touch with the seafaring element of that port, from which, notably the Pilots’ Association, he received considerable valuable advice. The seamanship experts at the Naval Academy contributed some more, and he, of course, discussed the matter with the masters of the colliers, who were most directly interested in precautions that would reduce the chances of collision. The decision arrived at after considering all this counsel was the following, issued as a general order to the squadron under date of December 22.
“When engaged in towing at night, the leading vessel will show the three white towing lights and the side lights required by law. All the other vessels including the Dewey will show the red lights (two) required by law for a vessel not under control, as well as the side lights required by law. During the day the proper shapes as laid down by law must be shown. All vessels will carry a white light aft so screened as not to be visible forward of the beam, to assist the others in steering. The Dewey must also carry such a light....
“Vessels will at all times keep the spar decks well lighted as a ‘Show’ to passing vessels; cargo lights at both ends are suggested when practicable.”
Further thought led to the conclusion that the lights above specified were not certain of giving passing vessels the correct information as to the nature of our formation and on the principle that the more lights shown without actually violating the law the safer we would be, the order was modified as follows the day that we went to sea.
“When engaged in towing, all steam vessels will carry the three vertical white mast head lights and side lights; the Dewey will carry side lights and no mast head lights. All vessels will carry a white light aft so screened as not to be visible forward of either beam. The day shapes will not be carried unless especially ordered.”
Later, at sea, when it was observed that the Dewey was very dark and that lights at her ends appeared disconnected as though on different vessels a considerable distance apart, she was directed to show several white lights along each side. Carrying lights as prescribed in the modified order, there was never any confusion or danger of collision, mariners of all nations being active to give us a wide berth.
The colliers and the dock not being allowed the general signal book of the navy, we had to use the international code for all ordinary communication and for the routine reports, such as sick, coal on hand and expended, latitude and longitude, etc. The one-flag signals of the international code for use between vessels towing and being towed were found not applicable to our situation and Commander Hosley prepared and put into use a special one flag series of about twenty important signals. These were easily memorized by most of the officers having to use them and were very simple and convenient. Some of these, like I—“all right, go ahead,” or J—“go ahead, full speed,” were regarded with pleasure; others excited a contrary emotion because they meant trouble: V was particularly hateful, signifying “the hawser has carried away.” Z meant “man overboard,” the same as it does in the regular international code, but fortunately none of us ever had occasion to hoist it. A few special two-flag signals were used to supplement the one-flag series. The flags used were all international letters, but a few navy code flags were used for special purposes, the telegraph flag for instance being used as an order for the wireless operators to stand by for a message. The international code contains five pennants, just enough to provide distinguishing pennants for the vessels of the squadron— C for Caesar, D Dewey, F Glacier, E Brutus and G Potomac. C and D .were also used in their regular code significations as yes and no. At night letters and numerals were made from the navy code, all the vessels having been supplied with signal cards giving the wig-wag, semaphore and ardois systems of signalling. At the beginning it was sometimes difficult to communicate as quickly as we wished but the officers of all the ships soon became sufficiently proficient for our purposes, though never to a degree that would have made them feel comfortable in the battleship fleet.
The colliers and the dock not being allowed the general signal book of the navy, we had to use the international code for all ordinary communication and for the routine reports, such as sick, coal on hand and expended, latitude and longitude, etc. The one-flag signals of the international code for use between vessels towing and being towed were found not applicable to our situation and Commander Hosley prepared and put into use a special one flag series of about twenty important signals. These were easily memorized by most of the officers having to use them and were very simple and convenient. Some of these, like I—“all right, go ahead,” or J—“go ahead, full speed,” were regarded with pleasure; others excited a contrary emotion because they meant trouble: V was particularly hateful, signifying “the hawser has carried away.” Z meant “man overboard,” the same as it does in the regular international code, but fortunately none of us ever had occasion to hoist it. A few special two-flag signals were used to supplement the one-flag series. The flags used were all international letters, but a few navy code flags were used for special purposes, the telegraph flag for instance being used as an order for the wireless operators to stand by for a message. The international code contains five pennants, just enough to provide distinguishing pennants for the vessels of the squadron— C for Caesar, D Dewey, F Glacier, E Brutus and G Potomac. C and D .were also used in their regular code significations as yes and no. At night letters and numerals were made from the navy code, all the vessels having been supplied with signal cards giving the wig-wag, semaphore and ardois systems of signalling. At the beginning it was sometimes difficult to communicate as quickly as we wished but the officers of all the ships soon became sufficiently proficient for our purposes, though never to a degree that would have made them feel comfortable in the battleship fleet.
December 26 the work of unmooring the dock was begun, an operation that consumed all that day and the greater part of the next. Preliminary to heaving up the mushroom mooring anchors the dock was anchored with 6,000-pound Dunn anchors, one at each end. Billboards, or more properly hawse pipes, had been fitted for the mushroom anchors at one end of the dock and the anchors were hove up into them by means of long deck tackles leading to the New York’s capstan located in the center of the pontoon deck. At the other end the billboards were not completed, and never were, as the material for them was subsequently used at sea for strengthening plates to keep the dock from coming apart. It was therefore a more difficult job to get the anchors up at that end and landed on deck, but this was simplified greatly by the able seamanship of Captain Hutchinson of the Caesar. He noticed that the chains were of a size that would fit the wildcats of his steam capstan, volunteered his services, and brought the Caesar, bows on, up to that end of the dock, keeping her thus underway for several hours in a tideway and giving an exhibition of ship mastery that could not well be excelled. We on the dock unbitted the chains one at a time and gave him the bitter ends by means of a tail rope previously passed through the Caesar's hawse pipe. They then hove the anchor up with their steam capstan and when it came up to the bow, considerably higher than the deck of the dock, we got hold of it with tackles and by hauling in while they eased out the chain from the Caesar successfully landed it. All four anchors at that end of the dock were picked up in that way, not without trouble, for they had been so carelessly dropped after the self-docking tests of the dock that we found two of them, from opposite corners, foul of each other and very hard to get clear.
The forenoon of December 28 was consumed in running the towing lines from the dock to the Brutus and Caesar, those two vessels being anchored in column at suitable intervals ahead of the dock. The so-called “bow” of the dock—the end upon which was the swinging bridge—was pointed up stream, which made it necessary to turn completely around after getting under way, to aid in which evolution the Potomac was put on ahead of the Caesar. Each collier had one of the 200-fathom 6-inch hawsers upon the drum of her towing machine, the hawser being shackled into a double 15-inch manila span; one of these was between the Caesar and the Brutus and two, shackled end to end, were in the interval between the Brutus and the bridle on the dock. While getting underway and working out of the river the greater part of the wire lines were kept reeled up on the drums of the towing machines, but were nearly all paid out as soon as open water was reached. These practical details may appear trivial to the readers of the Naval Institute and may be thought more in place in a “First Mate’s Manual,” but if there is ever another expedition of the kind the people engaged in it will be grateful for anything in print relating to the small but important details of this one. Little practical matters like these unquestionably pertain to the naval profession, even if not military, and should not be beneath the consideration of naval officers. When the expedition was fitting out, the suggestion reached me from two or three sources, all naval, that the service assigned was rather unprofessional and even demeaning. It is not my task, for obvious reasons, to offer any plea for seamanship in the navy, but I think I may ask without presumption, in the present commendable enthusiasm about target practice and gunnery, if many officers are not forgetting that common seamanship is still a professional requisite?
Everything being ready, the colliers and the dock hove up their anchors and at 2.30 p. m., December 28, the long journey began without a delay or hitch of any kind. The small collier Lebanon, from which we had been coaling when we had nothing else to do, and the tug Mohawk were put alongside the dock on the inshore side while getting underway to aid in turning it around and to prevent any tendency to swing into shoal water. The Potomac let go when well pointed out of the river, leaving the two colliers towing. The start was disappointing, for the night came on thick with much rain and many squalls from almost dead ahead, making the navigation of the bay difficult and keeping the speed down to less than three knots. The weather was better in the morning and the Potomac resumed towing ahead of the Caesar, increasing the rate of progress to between three and four knots; this was still disappointing, as there was a general impression communicated to us from naval discussion that we ought to make at least five knots per hour. At 10.30 that evening we passed out at the capes of the Chesapeake and into the Atlantic ocean, where numerous adventures and novel experiences awaited us.
December 31 marked the first whole day from noon to noon that we were at sea and the day’s run was 111 miles; this was encouraging and led us to hope that the five-knot prophets might not be so far wrong after all: a hope that was doomed to be blasted, for in the event we did not equal that day’s run until nearly three months later, when with the aid of the surface current that sweeps through the Strait of Gibraltar, we made 115 miles the day that we entered the Mediterranean Sea. December 31 was distinguished in our annals for more things than good speed. It was Sunday and the first comfortable day we had known for many weeks; we were in the gulf stream with warm air and water about us, and the men in clean white working clothes, all in great contrast to the cold, dirt, and incessant hard labor that had been our portion for more than two months at the Boston and New York navy yards and in the Patuxent river. Besides being the last day of the year, the day also came near being the last one of the dry-dock expedition, as I shall now attempt to relate.
Various methods of towing had been discussed before the expedition started and all agreed that it would make too long and cumbersome a tow to put all four of the towing vessels in tandem ahead of the dock, besides subjecting the tow line nearest the dock to great strain. An arrangement like that shown by Fig. 1 had been proposed and was considered worth trying, as it would distribute the strain on the tow lines and, apparently, would tend to keep the dock straight in crosswinds and seas. The Brutus and Caesar were to tow in tandem ahead and the Glacier and Potomac, with shorter lines, were to tow from the forward corners. To give this scheme a trial, the Glacier steamed up to the dock from astern and passed slowly along the starboard side of it to throw a heaving line aboard. The Potomac at the time was towing ahead of the Caesar and the flotilla was making about 4 1/2 knots on a course S. E. 1/4. S. The sea was smooth but there was considerable swell, and just at that time there was very little wind —light airs to light breezes at the most, from south.
At a speed slightly greater than that of the dock the Glacier passed at a distance of 40 or 50 feet, a heaving line was thrown across and with it a stout messenger line was hauled over, with which to get the end of the wire towing hawser on board the dock. Then, when the stern of the Glacier was almost abreast of the starboard forward corner of the dock, that unwieldy craft began one of its kite-like swings to starboard. Seeing the distance closing in, Commander Hosley on the bridge of the Glacier put the helm to starboard to sheer the stern away from the dock, at the same time ringing up full speed ahead on the engine room telegraph. The dock’s movement was, however, too sudden and unexpected to be avoided and her corner hit us twice far aft on the quarter; first lightly, and then, on the next swell, heavily, dishing inward a considerable area of plating to a depth of about six inches, breaking one frame, starting open a seam, and shattering several square feet of marble panelling with which the ward-room mess-room was finished. The damage was about twelve feet above the water line and was in itself of no importance, but the immediate result of the impact brought us face to face with a genuine peril. The blow forced the stern of the Glacier over to starboard, the starboard helm assisting, and the ship became pointed diagonally across the interval immediately in front of the dock. It was a critical situation affording no time for reflection but demanding instant action. To have tried to turn clear in that limited space with a port helm would almost certainly have resulted in fouling the Glacier's screw with the tow lines. Without hesitation, Commander Hosley went ahead with starboard helm and we actually passed over the tow-lines without accident, the ship’s stern crossing certainly less than one hundred feet ahead of the on-coming dock. The clipper form of the Glacier's bow enabled her to ride down the line and force it underneath when she met it. It is not pleasant to conjecture what would have happened had the line caught on her bow and stopped her, but it is safe to say that the least result would have been damages to the dock and the Glacier that would have compelled the return of the expedition to port.
Another perilous adventure was in store for us that same day. After the crew’s dinner hour we took a position on the starboard bow of the dock as nearly ahead as we dared go without getting too close to the tow-lines, and floated a messenger line to her by means of buoys. This took considerable time, as the lines fouled the sharp overhanging corners of the dock after being grappled and had to be run several times. About 5 p. m. we got the end of our 6-inch steel tow-line on board the dock and shackled into a pelican hook secured at the starboard forward corner. After beginning to tow we unreeled about 150 fathoms of this line, making our position about half the distance between the dock and the Brutus. Our line, leading off the port quarter, tended to drag the stern of the ship in that direction and obliged us to carry considerable starboard helm to keep on the course.
In the meanwhile the weather had become threatening, with rising wind from S. S. W., falling barometer, and fierce rain squalls, the consequence no doubt of our being then on the eastern edge of the gulf stream. About 6.30 p. m. the ship failed to respond to a full starboard helm and reserve engine speed and came up until the wind caught her on the port bow, when she fell off rapidly, unable to help herself, and was soon being dragged stern foremost by the dock: a very awkward predicament for a 7,000-ton ship. Figure 2 will give a better idea of the situation than can be obtained from any description. A furious rain squall of gale force (7 to 8) was blowing at the time and the lights on the dock were seen so dimly through the driving rain that we could not tell how close we were being drawn toward collision. Full pressure of steam in the cylinders of the towing engine failed to hold the strain of the tow-line, which veered out by bounds and with an appalling sound as the compressed steam forced open the cylinder relief valves, while the deck, heavily supported and reinforced as it was under the towing engine, fairly jumped with each attack upon it. The two large king posts previously mentioned as having been put in at New York were both whipped out and thrown overboard by the tow-line and half the top of one of the towing frames went with them. It was a miracle that no one was killed by these heavy timbers when they were flying about the deck. Altogether, it was a decidedly bad quarter of an hour.Commander Hosley tried his utmost to regain control of the ship, but in the high wind blowing it could not be done, and as we could not see clearly whether we would foul the dock or not he gave the order to let go our line. We unclamped it from the drum of the towing machine and let it run overboard, it going with such spitefulness that its marks are still on the ship. It was subsequently hauled on board the dock and we got it a day or two later after another memorable struggle with refractory forces and reeled it back again upon our towing drum. The wind veered suddenly to N. W. early in the first watch, blew with gale force for two hours, and then subsided to a moderate breeze from the same quarter. The Glacier never attempted that method of towing again, but on two or three occasions afterward when it was fairly smooth the Potomac was put on one corner of the dock for short periods and contributed something to the general progress. Throughout the serious incident just described the other vessels continued towing ahead, prevented by the rain and darkness from knowing that we were having trouble, and we learned from them later that they knew nothing of it beyond the fact that we had cast off from the tow.
The next three days were comparatively peaceful; the wind, usually light, veered gradually from N. W. to north and N. E. and thus on around until it was about S. E., or ahead, by noon of January 3. The runs for those three days were 79, 98 and 101 miles; still disappointing, as we had not yet had enough experience to realize what a huge task we had ahead of us. Valuable experience was close at hand and arrived the following day, with the wind in the southeast quadrant at first, gradually increasing and veering until by 1 p. m. it had reached the force of a moderate gale from S. S. W. and raised such a sea that any progress in towing was impossible. The Potomac had cast off at 8 a. m. to go to Bermuda for coal and to take the mail, and we had much difficulty and some danger in getting the mail on board her, so rapidly did the sea make. The colliers left attached to the dock took the most comfortable position, which was about head to sea, and steamed only fast enough to check the drifting of the dock to leeward. Even under such conditions the strain on the towing gear was great and at 3 p. m. the Caesar’s towing engine was disabled by several teeth being torn out of the drum gear and the engine shaft being lifted out of its bearings. They succeeded in bitting the wire hawser and so held on. Some studs were subsequently put into the drum gear in place of the broken teeth and the machine thus made fit to use for reeling in slack wire, but the Caesar always towed thereafter with her line bitted, the accident having proved that towing machines of this size cannot manage 12,000-ton dry docks in gales of wind.
The day’s run from noon January 4 to noon the 5th was 21 miles, which served as a damper upon preconceived estimates of what we were going to do and furnished something definite upon which to calculate for the future. The wind continued all day January 5 in the S. W. quadrant, of force 4 to 6, with moderate sea, the tow facing the weather. The Glacier took position ahead and distributed oil on the water, but so far as we could see there was no change in the seas that broke over the bows of the colliers and upon the deck of the dock. The morning of January 6 the wind fell to a gentle breeze and veered around to N. W. Captain Hutchinson of the Ceasar suggested by wireless that advantage be taken of this wind to get as far south as the 30th parallel where he thought we would be less liable to have bad weather; this being approved, the two colliers started off to the S. E. towing the dock with wind nearly astern and orders to go to Lat. 30 N., Long. 65 W. At the same time we in the Glacier started for Bermuda to pick up the Potomac. This separation was necessary because the Potomac had been ordered to find us on the 32d parallel and as she had no wireless outfit the only way to inform her of the change of route was to go after her. We met her when she came out of port the next morning, and that evening we both rejoined the squadron.
The following day, January 8, the Glacier began towing ahead of the Caesar, the great increase in power thus put on making it necessary to stop for a short time to permit the Brutus to bitt her wire line, her towing machine not being able to withstand the increased strain. The Potomac was taken in tow astern of the dock, which thereafter became the usual arrangement while crossing the Atlantic. The Potomac kept steam enough to take care of herself and when the weather made her too uneasy in tow she would cast off and keep along with the flotilla under easy steam. She cast off frequently also to aid in distributing provisions or for other services. In the protracted bad weather that we had a little later the Potomac certainly had a hard time and life on board her must have been almost intolerable. There were times when it did not seem possible that a vessel so small could preserve herself, but she always came out right side up and without much damage.
The Glacier towed at first with one of the single 15-inch manila hawsers, 200 fathoms long, shackled to the 6-inch wire from her towing machine. About 170 fathoms of the wire hawser would be unreeled, making the tow-line about 360 fathoms long with a dead weight of two-thirds of a ton near its middle where the thimbles and shackles came together. The plain end of the manila hawser was taken over the Caesar’s bow and bitted on her fore castle. This was a clumsy arrangement because of the amount of work necessary on the Caesar after they got the end of the hawser on board. They had to get enough of it to take to the bitts, which was no light task, as a line of that size is not an easy thing to haul out of the water, and they had to hold it up with the cat fall while parcelling could be put on the part that would lie in the bow chock. In a seaway with the ships going ahead, and particularly because the Glacier is very hard to keep under control at low speed, this operation was always attended with great risk of the Caesar losing the line after they had got the end on board and before it was bitted. The first step toward improvement was for us on the Glacier to find out how much end the Caesar needed (about 9 fathoms) and to put the parcelling on before running the line. The messenger line, a whole coil of 5-inch or 6-inch manila, and sometimes two bent together, was hitched to the hawser just below the parcelling and stopped along at intervals to the end. This messenger was rove through a snatch block on the Caesar's anchor davit and when it brought the end of the hawser up to the block they had only to cut the stops one by one as they arrived and pass the big end, thus liberated, along to the bitts, ceasing to heave in of course when the parcelling came up over the bow chock. The heaving in of such a heavy line, it may be added, required the use of the steam capstan on the forecastle backed by a winch on the well deck.
This resulted in the saving of some time and nervous distress, but still had the great drawback that it was necessary to cut the 15-inch hawser forward of the bitts when it had to be let go in a hurry, and it was so cut four times before we had opportunity to prepare another improvement. This began by splicing an eye in the end of the hawser, well protected by parcelling, serving, and leathering, and putting therein one of the large shackles figured on the plate, so it could be shackled instead of bitted on the Caesar. This passed through three or four stages of development and finally reached the arrangement shown by Fig. 3, which was so satisfactory that we did not try to improve it. With this it was only a matter of a few seconds after the end of the short chain came up over the Caesar's bow before the pelican hook would be slipped into place and the welcome international letter Y— “hawser is fast ”—would be run up. This put an end to the long and anxious minutes of dread lest the messenger carry away while holding the big hawser up against the pitching and wallowing of both ships, and certainly added much to the peace of mind of the chief officer of the Caesar and myself, who were both strenuously engaged when tow-lines were being run.
The Brutus always used a chain bridle over her bow dipped through a shackle in the end of the manila span from the Caesar and never had any trouble with it for the simple reason that the towing train between the Brutus and Caesar never carried away. The same elements parted at one time or another in all other parts of the train, so it may be considered merely as luck that no break ever occurred in the space mentioned.
From January 8 to January 12 we proceeded eastward, making enough southing to reach the 28th parallel on the latter date, that having now been decided upon as the proper latitude for the crossing. The wind, not exceeding 4 in force at any time, was forward of the beam or ahead practically all the time, and the sea was only rough enough to give the ships a moderate sea motion. We made 388 miles during the four days, with which we were satisfied. The 12th the wind freshened and the sea became so much heavier that even with racks our mess table could not be set and meals had to be taken, picnic fashion, wedged somewhere into a corner. The colliers and the dock were very unsteady and the Glacier was much worse, establishing beyond dispute, I think, her claim as the champion roller of the world. The little Potomac presented a spectacle of abject misery, though not without an element of the picturesque, as she struggled with the.tall seas. Rain added to the discomforts of the day. About half past ten that night the Brutus burned the odious letter V—“ hawser is carried away "—and the dock was adrift, the 6-inch wire hawser from the Brutus towing machine being the one that had parted. The dock began drifting to leeward, about N. W., and we all stood by her, working on our lines to get ready to connect up the tow again.
The dock had the most work to do, as the heavy chain bridle with two of the 15-inch manila spans and about 100 fathoms of the 6-inch wire attached to it had to be hauled in, but all this heavy work was done and the lines ready for running again before noon the next day. The Brutus, Captain Hendricks, did remarkably quick work, getting the drum clear of the broken hawser and a new one reeled on in time to report ready at 1.50 a. m., a little more than three hours after the accident had occurred. On the Glacier we had the Caesar let go our line and discovered that it was a big undertaking, working with all hands in the darkness and rain, to get twelve hundred feet of water-soaked 15-inch hawser back on board the ship. We were hampered greatly by lack of deck room on which to work, our deck being much obstructed by ventilators and deck houses, and the towing frames put on at Boston were provokingly in the way. We had to haul this line in many times during the cruise and with experience came to adopt a number of makeshifts and expedients that finally brought the operation down almost to the system of an established drill, but it never became an easy task. I shall resist the temptation to describe the troubles we had and how they were overcome, but I will say that one of our most baffling difficulties was caused by the malignant and almost animate manner in which the big hawser would cable-lay itself as the bights were hauled in on deck. The Caesar avoided trouble with her line by keeping the Brutus in tow, but this made the work more difficult when it came time to get hold of the dock again.
About 1 p. m. of the day following the break the Caesar towed the Brutus as close to the dock as was prudent and the Potomac succeeded in carrying across a messenger line with which an end of one of the 15-inch double manila spans was hauled over and shackled into the end of the new wire line on the Brutus’ drum. This took longer than it takes to write it, as the sea was still heavy, the dock drifted faster than the vessels, and the weight of the gear to be handled was about up to the limit of the facilities for holding it, so it was 4 p. m. before the two colliers began towing on a course again. An incident of this accident was damage to the stern rail of the Brutus that cost more than $2,000 to repair at the first port we stopped at. The next morning the Glacier went ahead of the Caesar, ran her lines, and began towing again, the Potomac being taken in tow astern of the dock. Every thing proceeded satisfactorily until 4 a. m. January 17, when “without warning,” as the newspaper writers say, the Glacier's 15-inch line parted where it passed through the bow chock of the Caesar. This was the simplest accident that could occur, as it left two ships fast to the dock, and so little was off the end of our line that we did not have to get a new one ready. After heaving in our lines and getting them ready to run again we took the Potomac in tow with an 8-inch manila line, the weather indications being such that it did not seem advisable to shackle into the main tow at that time.
The next morning, January 18, we all stopped for a short time while funeral services were conducted on board the Caesar over the remains of a Chinese seaman who had died the night before of beri-beri. Then we proceeded; the Glacier shackled in ahead of the Caesar and the Potomac took her place in tow astern of the dock. In running lines to the Caesar we floated them with buoys in every instance but one, when the weather permitted the use of a boat. The buoy method is very simple and easy as described in the seamanship books and a midshipman can write it out nicely on the blackboard and get a 4 for it any time. In real life, however, on the high seas, it is difficult. With a stiff breeze blowing across the course or on the bow, as almost always was the case with us, and a good sea running, it was difficult to keep as clumsy a ship as the Glacier parallel to the course of the colliers or at the same speed that they were advancing, which made the game of catching the buoy a rather engaging one for the Caesar. The Glacier was about six feet lighter forward than aft, which caused her to fall off rapidly if stopped or run at dead slow with the wind on either bow and greatly increased the difficulty of keeping her in place long enough to run the lines. Even after the Caesar got the end of the messenger line to her capstan there yet remained ample trouble for us, for two hundred fathoms of wet 15-inch line is about as difficult to get overboard safely as it is to get back again, and we always had a violent time with jammed check stoppers, foul slip ropes, and innocent ordinary seamen who seldom failed to step inside each bight of the hawser as it started to run. When one of these events was over the deck looked as though a battle had been fought on it, strewn as it would be with stranded cordage, splintered woodwork and broken tools. Under very adverse weather conditions it took us once four hours to get hold of the Caesar, but an hour was usually sufficient time and on two or three occasions the whole operation was completed within fifteen minutes after streaming the buoy.
Following January 18 for nearly a week came the most comfortable and successful period in the transatlantic voyage. The wind was mainly in the northeast quadrant and light, and the sea was smooth except for a swell that kept the ships all rolling more or less. Going east along the 28th parallel as closely as possible we made 612 miles in six days, and might have made several miles more had we not stopped two or three times to issue provisions and transfer stores. There was a funeral also, another of the Caesar's men having died. The satisfaction of this period was increased by our getting into touch with the world through the armored cruiser Maryland, the easternmost of a chain of ships that had been deployed into the Atlantic for wireless telegraph tests. She telegraphed us the more important items of news of the world and our navy news, which was very welcome. After leaving the United States we had kept in communication with the wireless station on Cape Hatteras for three weeks and until nearly 1400 nautical miles distant, but as that is a commercial station in business for money no news had been given us more important than the telegraph operator’s comments on the weather.
January 24 saw the end of our good weather and the beginning of a hard luck period that lasted nearly a month and destroyed every hope of making the voyage within a reasonable time. The wind had veered slowly the preceding day and reached S. E. the 24th, blowing fresh with frequent squalls of heavy rain varying from moderate to strong-gale force (7 to 9 by the Beaufort scale). A rough sea resulted, and between wind and sea we had to abandon the idea of making any progress, but faced the weather and steamed enough to keep steerage way. The Potomac had to cast off from astern of the dock and take care of herself. The next day the weather was worse and troubles began. About 10 a. m. the Glacier lost steerage way, though making all the revolutions possible, and fell off to leeward into the trough of the sea. From this position she could not recover, her light bow preventing her from coming up, while the effect of her struggles dragged the Caesar off also and put a dangerous strain on the tow lines. Fig. 4 will give an idea of the situation at that time. About 1 p. m. the Brutus gave warning that the tow lines were in danger, and the Glacier therefore gave up the attempt to get back head to wind and had the Caesar cast her off. We had a wild time getting that line on board in the gale and tempestuous sea, so heavy that water came on board over the stern while we were working there.
When free from our strain on her bow the Caesar got pointed head to wind by the rather simple expedient of requiring the Brutus to stop steaming ahead, when the dock, acting as a drag, hauled the colliers stern foremost until the Caesar was straightened out, both colliers then going ahead for steerage way. But the dock was too big and heavy an object for them to hold long against such weather and about 6 p. m. the Brutus signalled that her hawser had parted, supplementing the message soon afterward with these disagreeable particulars—“Towing machine a total wreck; wire went by the board and carried away close to hole where rove through drum. Clamp still remains on drum, and about forty fathoms of wire left.” Released from restraint, the dock started back toward the coast of the United States at a speed rather better than we had averaged in towing it in the opposite direction, and accomplished something more than one hundred miles of the return voyage before we again got it under control. In the dark and stormy night it was impossible to do more than stand by the dock, steaming slowly along with it and turning around occasionally when getting too far ahead. Those turns will be remembered by all who participated in them, for it seemed sometimes that the Glacier would roll completely over. As on the occasion of a former breakdown, the Caesar kept the Brutus in tow.
The next day the weather continued so bad as to forbid any attempt to get near the dock and we had to watch it drift away, unable to even try to prevent it. The barometer this day was unsteady, about 30.00, fluctuating a few hundredths above and below that mark. More than a week before it had begun falling slowly, from 30.29 on January 19 until it reached its lowest point, 29.70, the afternoon of the 23d, when the bad weather was just beginning, rising thereafter slowly throughout the period of storm. It was a sure-enough case of “long foretold, long last.” The 27th the weather had improved to some extent, but there was still a boisterous sea. The wind had decreased to a moderate breeze and moved around to about S. S. W., which changed the drift of the dock to the eastward of north. The Potomac about noon got near enough the dock to run a messenger line for hauling over a towing span but she could not hold the dock from drifting and was dragged by it slowly to lee-ward stern foremost. This situation endured the whole afternoon, the Caesar towing the Brutus clockwise around the dock several times and passing close to windward of the Potomac each time in an effort to get a line from her, but the Potomac drifted out of reach each time. The Glacier eventually sent a whale boat, though it was not a good time for a small boat to be abroad, and on the next round trip of the colliers this boat, commanded by Chief Boatswain James Dowling, carried a line from the Potomac to the Brutus, which enabled the latter vessel to get the end of a towing span on board and secured to a 2-inch chain bridle over her stern. It was after 7 p. m. before everything was fast and the two colliers began towing the dock to the eastward. The Glacier towed the Potomac for the night.
The following morning we took the Potomac alongside the Glacier, it being absolutely necessary that she have coal, and gave her 37 tons before the parting of the lines between us made us stop. There was considerable sea and she rose and fell fully twenty feet alongside us, destroying big bale fenders, badly damaging her side, and violently removing all our chutes and guards on that side, but it was a case where eggs had to be broken or there would be no omelette. That night, or more exactly at 12.30 the next morning, the chain bridle at the stern of the Brutus parted and the dock was adrift again beyond the reach of all profanity. The colliers cast off from each other this time, having had enough of the scheme of towing one another, and the day was employed in getting towing gear ready to run again and in hoping for better weather, the state of the sea that day precluding an attempt to get hold of the dock. Next morning the Brutus unaided got hold of the dock and held it up in the wind while the Caesar ran her lines from ahead of the Brutus. As before remarked, this kind of work does not proceed as smoothly in the open sea as it does in the text books and it was 2 p. m. before the colliers started off to the eastward with the dock. The rough track chart shown by Fig. 5 indicates the wanderings of the dock during the period just described.
The following morning we took the Potomac alongside the Glacier, it being absolutely necessary that she have coal, and gave her 37 tons before the parting of the lines between us made us stop. There was considerable sea and she rose and fell fully twenty feet alongside us, destroying big bale fenders, badly damaging her side, and violently removing all our chutes and guards on that side, but it was a case where eggs had to be broken or there would be no omelette. That night, or more exactly at 12.30 the next morning, the chain bridle at the stern of the Brutus parted and the dock was adrift again beyond the reach of all profanity. The colliers cast off from each other this time, having had enough of the scheme of towing one another, and the day was employed in getting towing gear ready to run again and in hoping for better weather, the state of the sea that day precluding an attempt to get hold of the dock. Next morning the Brutus unaided got hold of the dock and held it up in the wind while the Caesar ran her lines from ahead of the Brutus. As before remarked, this kind of work does not proceed as smoothly in the open sea as it does in the text books and it was 2 p. m. before the colliers started off to the eastward with the dock. The rough track chart shown by Fig. 5 indicates the wanderings of the dock during the period just described.
The dock was taken in tow this time from what we called its stern end, where a bridle shackled to a double 15-inch manila span had been kept ready for use ever since the expedition started. By the former accidents the dock had acquired two long pieces of 6-inch wire hawsers from the Brutus and these had been spliced together, making one line about 250 fathoms long with a thimble in each end. One end of this long line was shackled to the manila span just referred to and the other end was hauled aboard the Brutus and shackled to a new 6-inch wire line; the inboard end of the latter was bitted on the Brutus, as her towing machine was out of commission, the bitts being backed to the mainmast by chain cables. All these tow-lines made a very long drift between the Brutus and the dock—about 540 fathoms, or more than half a mile—but it was an effective one and did not carry away. The whole tow as made up this time was a mile and a half long from the bow of the Glacier to the stern of the Potomac: as ordinarily composed it was only little more than a mile in length.
The Glacier towed the Potomac that night, but the next morning took her place ahead of the Caesar, the Potomac making fast astern of the dock, and the procession resumed its way to the eastward. The wind was from N. E. east and S. E., of force about 4, with many rain squalls, and the sea was heavy enough to make us all uncomfortable, the Glacier especially so, as we were then engaged in hoisting coal out of the holds and transferring it to the bunkers. Not a pleasant occupation in the best of weather, but when rolling so that the hoists of coal would swing viciously more than the width of the ship it became slow, difficult and dangerous work. The weather conditions, adverse as they were, soon became worse, and by February 4 we were again in a S. E. gale—logged as a whole gale at one time—with a sea to correspond. For four consecutive days, the big ships toiling ahead on the towline like oxen, our day’s runs were 30 miles, 18 miles, minus 24 miles, and 22 miles, or 46 miles made good in 96 hours. The night of February 4 the Glacier fell off into the trough of the sea in exactly the same manner as had happened once before, and we had to let go and haul in our lines, shackling in again ahead of the Caesar the morning of the 6th. In the weather then prevailing both these operations involved more toil and anxiety than can be understood from reading of them. From February 6th to the 9th the wind was not so violent, blowing with force 4 to 5 from east, or dead ahead, most of the time, and in those days we advanced 47, 42 and 46 miles respectively. Another Chinaman was buried from the Caesar the 7th.
Meanwhile, we were watching the steady approach of a trouble that could not be avoided. The Potomac, though being towed and exercising economy, was burning about six tons of coal a day and bringing nearer and nearer the time when she would not have enough on board to carry her through another gale. Nothing perhaps during the whole history of the expedition gave Commander Hosley more anxiety than did this coal problem of the Potomac. We hoped for moderate weather that would allow us to take her alongside, but it did not come, and her noon report February 8, only 22 tons on board, gave warning that no more waiting would be safe and that something must be done. At day light the next morning we left the tow, hauled our lines on board, took the Potomac alongside, and began putting coal upon her after deck, using cargo slings that landed 1,500 pounds at a time. The sea was heavy and it was wild work and did not last long, as her pitching parted a 4-inch wire bow-line to which she was riding and so much damage to our side and herself was being done that we had to let her go, but not until we had poured 15 tons of coal upon her deck. We took her in tow with a 4-inch wire line and spent all the rest of that day trying to rig a trolley transferrer to her, but found it impracticable owing to the pitching of the two vessels, that of the Potomac being extreme. The next day we got an under-water hauling line into operation and with two days of hard work transferred about eleven tons to her, barely enough to keep her alive, but enough to postpone the day when she would be helpless. We then devoted a Sunday to rigging a substantial derrick, reeving off heavy lines that could handle several bags at a time, and otherwise improving our appliances, so that between dawn and dark the next day 22 tons were hauled over to her under water, besides a quantity of frozen meat and other provisions, for it appeared that famine “shrieked” in. the Potomac’s pantry as well as in her coal bunkers.
Meanwhile, we were watching the steady approach of a trouble that could not be avoided. The Potomac, though being towed and exercising economy, was burning about six tons of coal a day and bringing nearer and nearer the time when she would not have enough on board to carry her through another gale. Nothing perhaps during the whole history of the expedition gave Commander Hosley more anxiety than did this coal problem of the Potomac. We hoped for moderate weather that would allow us to take her alongside, but it did not come, and her noon report February 8, only 22 tons on board, gave warning that no more waiting would be safe and that something must be done. At day light the next morning we left the tow, hauled our lines on board, took the Potomac alongside, and began putting coal upon her after deck, using cargo slings that landed 1,500 pounds at a time. The sea was heavy and it was wild work and did not last long, as her pitching parted a 4-inch wire bow-line to which she was riding and so much damage to our side and herself was being done that we had to let her go, but not until we had poured 15 tons of coal upon her deck. We took her in tow with a 4-inch wire line and spent all the rest of that day trying to rig a trolley transferrer to her, but found it impracticable owing to the pitching of the two vessels, that of the Potomac being extreme. The next day we got an under-water hauling line into operation and with two days of hard work transferred about eleven tons to her, barely enough to keep her alive, but enough to postpone the day when she would be helpless. We then devoted a Sunday to rigging a substantial derrick, reeving off heavy lines that could handle several bags at a time, and otherwise improving our appliances, so that between dawn and dark the next day 22 tons were hauled over to her under water, besides a quantity of frozen meat and other provisions, for it appeared that famine “shrieked” in. the Potomac’s pantry as well as in her coal bunkers.
The sea became less rough the next day and we called her alongside and dumped 43 tons upon her in short order, shoving her off with more than 80 tons on board altogether. Towed her that night, and the next morning resumed our place at the head of the tow, having been diverted just six days by the exigency of the Potomac. In those six days the colliers had towed the dock 303 miles to the eastward, edging also gradually northward in the vain hope of getting out of the limits of the wind that so persistently opposed us. They sometimes passed out of sight of us ahead while we were working on the coal problem, but we closed up with them each night, towing the Potomac. In towing her, after parting one or two 8-inch manila lines, we found the best way was to give her about 80 fathoms of 4-inch wire to which she shackled a bower chain and veered out 60 or 75 fathoms. The weight of the chain gave sufficient drop to the tow-line to make it yield easily to the deep pitching of the ships, and we had no more trouble with it.
Another serious matter was causing anxiety at this time. The rough seas that we had encountered had worked loose a great many rivets in the joints on the dock where the different sections were fastened together, and a condition had been reached where it was doubtful if that structure could hold together through another gale. It would take too much space to describe the details of construction that were defective and I shall have to be content with the statement that the angle bars and rivets of which the junctions were formed were not heavy enough to withstand the strains that motion in a seaway put upon them, though they were amply strong for a fixed steel structure on shore. By using material left on board from unfinished work, some temporary strengthening plates were bolted up, but it was decided advisable to seek the nearest port where permanent repairs could be effected. This decision was the more positive because we had been so long at sea that the coal and water supply on the dock was getting very low. No condensers had been provided for the steam machinery on the dock, and as the many accidents had caused that machinery to be used a great deal tens of thousands of gallons of fresh water had been blown into the air in the form of exhaust steam. After our experiences with the Potomac we were not disposed to try to give either coal or water to the dock in a seaway.
Being thus compelled to seek “any port in a storm,” we headed for Las Palmas in the Canaries, carrying our adverse winds with us until actually within the lee of that group of islands. The Potomac was detached February 17, when about 400 miles from port, and sent on ahead with dispatches and with the dock expert, who was to make arrangements for the necessary repairs. The rest of us plodded on, dragging our incubus behind us, and the morning of February 21 arrived off the south side of Teneriffe, where we stopped and spent the day letting go and hauling in towing lines and running others suitable for towing into port. The Brutus with no towing machine to use could not heave in her lines, they being far beyond the capacity of winches, and the whole long train of lines from her had to be hauled on board the dock, the Brutus then being out of action as the damages she had sustained disqualified her for towing. The Caesar had secured to the other end of the dock with the wire line from her towing drum and the Glacier ran her same line to the Caesar's bow. The two ships then proceeded with the dock in tow but the (to us) short scopes of tow-lines gave us no confidence and the following morning we stopped and put in a hundred fathom double manila span between the Caesar's line and the dock. At noon the next day, February 23, we stopped off Las Palmas and the dock hove in this span, the Glacier cutting out of the tow at the same time. A light breeze was setting in shore, drifting the dock toward it, and there was a very anxious time for an hour or two while this work was in progress. The span was at last gotten in and the wire line secured, when the Caesar, now entirely alone, got the dock pointed and towed it about two miles to the port of La Luz, passing safely through the narrow opening between the break waters and landing it alongside the east mole as skillfully as a steam launch should bring a cutter alongside. We were just 57 days from the Patuxent river.
We were three weeks at that port having repairs made on the dock that would easily have been accomplished in the United States in half the time and at much less cost, but we were in contact with a breed of men that cannot be hurried and that has all its enterprise in promise for to-morrow. About 6,000 rivets were renewed, new angle bars fitted and heavier ones substituted for the old ones, so that when all was completed the dock was more seaworthy than when it left the United States. We hastened this work much by making up a working party of twenty mechanics from our ships who worked seven hours each night under the direction of the ships’ engineers and accomplished a very fair proportion of all the work done. The delay was availed of to repair the damages that the Potomac and Brutus had sustained, to obtain coal and water, and to buy a quantity of cordage, for, notwithstanding the very liberal supply we were fitted out with, the vicissitudes of the Atlantic voyage had destroyed almost every thing we had from 8-inch manila hawsers down to small stuff. We also got there from the United States, brought by the U. S. S. Tacoma from Naples, three complete drum gears and other spare parts for the towing machines and were thus enabled to put those machines into good working order again. We were indebted to the wireless telegraph for these spare parts, for when the Caesar's machine was disabled, January 4, we had telegraphed an order for repairs through the U. S. S. West Virginia, then in Hampton Roads about 500 miles distant from us, and a few days later we repeated the order to the Texas, OPE Charleston, whose call we had accidentally picked up.
The afternoon of March 17 the dock was taken to sea by the Brutus towing ahead, the Potomac alongside, and the Caesar stern-to astern with quarter lines run so she could use them to steer the dock clear of the shipping and the mole heads. It was a very difficult operation, but they got outside safely and the two colliers were towing toward Gibraltar before dark. The Potomac went with them and began towing ahead of the Caesar the next morning. The Glacier had to remain behind to settle the bills, which were advantageous for the inhabitants of the port, that for coal alone being more than $30,000. Shortly after noon the next day the Glacier left port and rejoined her command at ten o’clock that evening. On this trip of 700 miles from Las Palmas to the Strait of Gibraltar we found, as we had in crossing the Atlantic, that sailing directions and pilot charts are not infallible; only in this case the failures were in our favor. A northeast (head) wind and contrary current were so certain for this region and time of year that we expected 50 miles a day to be a good average for the run. It was a pleasant surprise therefore to find light airs or light breezes only for several days and a smooth sea, except for a long westerly swell; the latter made us roll abominably but did not interfere seriously with progress, the colliers and the Potomac keeping up an average of about four knots all the time.
March 23 the Potomac was sent on ahead with despatches and mail to Gibraltar, the Glacier taking her place at the head of the towing column. In letting go the Potomac's line on the Caesar it struck a Chinese seaman and broke his leg in two places besides injuring him badly about the head. The ships were rolling deeply, but we sent a life boat with the surgeon to attend him, sending the boat to bring him back later in the day. Both trips were made successfully but the boat was considerably damaged in hoisting the second time, being stove against a large mooring shackle in the ship’s side located exactly between the life boat davits and near the water’s edge. We always used a jackstay and lizard in lowering and hoisting boats in rough weather and much damage was thus prevented, but the device could not save the boat from the badly located mooring shackle just as it came out of water. Oil was used frequently on these occasions, but I am sorry to say that I never could see the slightest benefit resulting from it. A ship’s boat is such a small object in a heavy sea that it is bound to be thrown about pretty roughly, oil or no oil.
Early the morning of March 25, little more than a week from Las Palmas, we passed in at the Strait of Gibraltar and that day broke our record, making 115 miles for the day’s run, thanks to the surface current through the strait. Our welcome into the Mediterranean was not cordial. Soon after passing Tarifa we met an easterly wind with much rain and the behavior of the barometer gave us great concern. That instrument had been falling slowly from 29.90 the day before and now began to go down at an almost alarming rate, reaching 29.31 at 8 p. m. Having become somewhat attentive to weather signs during our experience in the Atlantic, we were much interested in this phenomenon and I was myself completely deceived, not believing such a low pressure could be relieved without a gale and figuring to myself the loss of the dock should it break adrift in such narrow waters. But nothing happened: the wind, never stronger than a moderate breeze, veered around rapidly during the night to south, S. W. and west, the rain ceased, and when morning broke we were bowling along with a fine breeze astern and everything lovely except the barometer, which was still below 29.40. It appeared later that the barometer is not an oracle in those seas, for we had fair winds and bright skies for the next four days and broke our record once more, making 119 miles.
March 30th our luck changed. We had then advanced far enough to the eastward to open out that wide reach of the Mediterranean from the south of France to Algeria between the Balearic Islands and Sardinia, and there we fell in with a cold north wind and heavy sea, causing the ships to roll and labor heavily and putting great strain on the tow-lines. The Glacier finally had to let go, leaving the two colliers to hold the dock up against the seas and take chances on the tow-lines surviving. The lee shore, the coast of Algeria, was only about sixty miles away, but the situation was not serious, as the wind did not increase and the sea was not making, being an old one. It subsided the next day and had almost disappeared by dark, long before which time the Glacier had shackled in ahead of the Caesar and we were all towing under favorable conditions to the eastward again. Four fine days followed, during which we made 450 miles and established a new record, having made 124 miles one day south of Sicily where an easterly current helped us twelve or fifteen miles at least.
Passing from the Malta Channel into the eastern basin of the Mediterranean we met a moderate breeze from almost ahead that gradually freshened during the following days, through the various stages of breezes and gales, until after five days it attained the force of 10. The successive days’ runs indicate the gradual development of this discouraging opposition—107 miles, 77, 52, 24, minus 40, and minus 52, the dock being adrift the last day. April 7, the day that we made 24 miles, the tow-lines began to complain and about 3 p. m. the Glacier let go and hauled in her lines, which was difficult work. The colliers continued to face the weather, but the dock took them steadily to leeward, as shown by the track chart, Fig. 6. The next day, April 8, moderate to fresh gales prevailed, with squalls of whole gale force (10), and a sea heavier and more disturbing than any that we saw in the Atlantic ocean. just before noon the dock broke adrift and began scudding rapidly to leeward broadside-to in the trough of the sea and rolling and pitching more deeply than we had ever seen it do before. The break occurred in a big triangular shackle joining the legs of the dock’s bridle to the first towing span, but as all parts of the shackle were lost, we never knew what part of it failed. The colliers cast off from each other and hauled in their lines, which in that weather was a laborious and difficult under taking, the accomplishment of which before dark spoke eloquently of the energy and resolution of their officers.
The ships without steaming did not drift as rapidly as the dock, while in steaming as slowly as possible before the sea they would go too fast. This made it necessary to run before the sea and bow it alternately, and compelled us several times to pass through the ordeal that seamen dread—the turning of a steamer across a heavy sea in a gale. The usual precautions were taken about covering hatches and securing movable articles, and oil was used freely with noticeably good results. The books say that before attempting to turn in such a situation you must wait for a lull in the storm, but my observation on this occasion and on similar ones in the Atlantic is that lulls are not frequent enough nor of sufficient duration to be worth considering. The Glacier was pooped several times when running before the sea, but that was almost wholly stopped by a very liberal use of oil from the well deck forward. A barrel was lashed in each water-way over a scupper and the oil allowed to run through a faucet in a very small stream, which was found a much more convenient and certain method than the use of bags. The colliers, being lower and heavier in the water, behaved better in this storm than the Glacier did, though they probably took more water on board, or clean over them, when making the turns. The Potomac weathered the gale without great distress, but she certainly presented a spectacle that was almost tragic.
This day, the most disheartening of the whole voyage, was cheered to some extent by friendly voices coming to us through the storm. About the time that the dock broke adrift our wireless office caught the call of the U. S. S. Brooklyn, then about 200 miles to the eastward of us, bound westward from Alexandria. We told her our troubles and received kind offers of assistance from her and also a promise to find us and stand by until the weather changed. Our messages were overheard by the British cruiser Sutlej, 100 miles or more away, and she also proposed to come to our assistance. As that vessel was homeward bound from the China station and probably in a hurry to get to England, it was very kind and seamanlike in her to offer to delay her voyage because of our misfortune. Lightning that evening stopped wireless telegraphy and we could not give these ships our position, in consequence of which we did not see the Sutlej at all and the Brooklyn did not find us until four o’clock the next afternoon.
An interesting and noteworthy incident of this storm was the presence on and about the ships of thousands of land birds, varying in size from large cranes, hawks and owls to small finches, swallows and thrushes, many of them of very beautiful colors and marking. Their necessities for food and water were such that they were almost tame and gave us excellent opportunities for observing them at close range. I suppose that they were migrating from their winter quarters in tropical Africa to the summer breeding grounds in Europe and were caught in the gale at sea and overpowered. A few remained with us until we sighted land, but the most proceeded on their journey as soon as the wind abated. During the same time there were no sea birds about, which confirms the popular notion that such birds are sufficiently weather-wise to seek the shore when a storm is brewing.
The morning of April 9 found the situation somewhat improved; the wind had backed to N. E. and N. N. E. and decreased to force 5 to 7, making a cross surface sea on top of the old sea, which was still heavy and awkward for ships to maneuver in. Nevertheless, the Brutus and Potomac undertook to get hold of the dock and actually did so, the Brutus having the regular towing-lines hauled across and shackled ready for use by 11 a. m. This was the most difficult and dangerous piece of seamanship accomplished during the cruise and was greatly to the credit of the two vessels that did it. The Brutus was unable to tow the dock alone in the prevailing sea, but she controlled its drifting enough to direct the course about S. S. E. and thus made some thing to the good. (See track chart, Fig. 6.) The Brooklyn arrived on the scene about 5 p. m. and the Tacoma, from the westward, an hour later, we having been in wireless communication with both vessels all day. It appeared that the Tacoma had been cruising about the Mediterranean for some time looking for us and I believe her executive officer is prepared to furnish statistics relative to coal and energy expended and distances annihilated in that quest. Having found us, she remained in company until we entered the canal at Port Said and we were very glad to have her with us. The Brooklyn left us at 11 a. m., the 10th, and proceeded on her cruise. The sea was much less rough that morning and at 7 a. m. the Caesar ran her lines and began towing ahead of the Brutus, the two ships taking the dock to the eastward at about three knots speed.
As soon as the Brooklyn left us the Glacier shackled in ahead of the Caesar, but in working up to the full speed we parted the 15-inch manila hawser forming the span between our wire line and the bow of the Caesar. The work of hauling this in, getting it out of the way, and getting another line out of the hold ready to run employed us several hours, lasting well into the night, during which time the Potomac was put into our place to tow ahead of the Caesar. In the morning she let go and the Glacier resumed her place at the head of the column, having put into use a new double 15-inch manila span. By that time all traces of the gale had disappeared; the sea was nearly smooth and the wind, from north, was only a light to gentle breeze. Under such favorable conditions we were making about 4 1/2 knots to the eastward and there was not even a remote prospect of any breakdown, when at 5.30 p. m. the double 15-inch manila span between the Brutus and the dock parted, and the dock was adrift for the fifth time. Compared to all the other occasions this was easy, with smooth sea and no wind to speak of, but it involved several hours’ work hauling in lines and ranging them for running out again, and on the Brutus they had to get up a new span and prepare it for use in place of the one that had carried away. All this consumed time and it was nearly 2 a. m. before we were all shackled together and towing again. The Potomac distinguished herself on this occasion by towing the dock alone four or five miles to the good while the other ships were working on their lines. The Tacoma contributed to the common welfare also by furnishing a boat to run lines when the tow was being made up.
Smooth seas and fine weather followed for five days, during which we made a little more than one hundred miles a day, none of the ships towing at full power because our towing gear was beginning to look very disreputable from long use and we were afraid of it. At sunset April 18 we all anchored in six fathoms, three miles off the breakwater at Port Said, thirty-two days from Las Palmas. The next morning the Caesar and a canal company’s tug towed the dock in to the Ismail basin at Port Said and the other ships followed in soon after. Officials of the canal company had boarded us before we anchored the evening before and said they were all ready to start the dock into the canal the next morning, which was certainly a pleasant surprise for us. They found, however, that the dock was drawing nearly eight feet, which prohibited it from going through until a considerable amount of dredging had been done. It appeared that the central office of the canal in Paris had been informed several months before by our Navy Department that the draft of the dock was six feet, and on that information they had widened two of the gares or sidings in the canal for places in which the dock could be tied up to avoid stopping traffic. Perhaps the dock did draw six feet when it was considered finished, but after being equipped for sea with anchors, chains, coal, water, provisions, men, and stores of all kinds on board its draft was about 7 feet, 8 inches, and could not be made much less. The mistake cost us five days’ time, which we mourned more than any time we had lost through bad weather, because it could have been avoided and because time was now precious just before the expected break of the southwest monsoon.
While waiting for the dredging to be done we had more than enough time to get coal and provisions, re-distribute the towing gear, buy some more cordage, and make all preparations for the next stage of the voyage. The natives there gave our young seamen a valuable object lesson in coaling ship, which was to be expected at a port that handles over a million tons of coal a year and has made a record of 600 tons an hour—ten tons a minute— put into passing mail steamers. When all was done, the towing ships entered the canal, the Brutus on April 24 and the Glacier and Caesar the 25th, all anchoring in Suez Bay to wait for the dock. Commander Hosley returned to Port Said to take charge of the dock and the Glacier furnished eighteen men to go through the canal with it and satisfy the canal company’s rule requiring vessels in transit to have adequate crews. We expected one or more of our ships to do the towing in the canal, but because they did not have twin screws the authorities would not permit them to try it. A canal company’s tug named the Titan, of 3,000 horse power and twin screws, did most of the towing, assisted by a smaller tug ahead of her and the Potomac astern of the dock to push, and to keep the stern of the dock from yawing into the banks. She performed this difficult task so well as to excite the admiration of the canal officials.
The dock entered the canal the morning of April 27 and arrived at Suez at 6 p. m. May 1, having made the transit in less time and with less difficulty than had been expected. The chief trouble they had was because of a beam wind of considerable force when the dock was moored in the siding at Kilometre 54. The siding was on the weather side of the canal, which made it hard work and destructive to mooring lines to get into it and harder yet to stay there. Hawsers parted and had to be replaced, and the mooring bollards along the bank, though well anchored, began coming home, making it finally necessary to veer all lines and let the dock take the ground easily on the opposite bank. This effectually blocked the canal and stopped all traffic for several hours before the wind permitted the dock to be moved. They anchored one night in Lake Timseh at Ismailia and the next night in the southern end of the Great Bitter Lake, being out of the way of passing vessels both nights. The trip from the latter point to Suez, 25 miles, was made in one day, arriving vessels being held at Suez that day to keep the canal clear. The canal officials were very attentive and courteous, the superintendent or director of each division going with the dock while in his part of the canal, and they detailed their best pilots. They were much elated at having put the dock through safely and so quickly, but said frankly that they hoped no more such things were coming that way. The dock was actually under way only 35 hours while in transit, or about double the time it takes a steamer to make the passage.
A delay occurred in getting underway at Suez May 3 from a peculiar cause. The Brutus ran her 8-inch wire to the dock, where it was shackled into the chain span just described, and then went ahead, the dock heaving up her anchor, which was at the opposite end, at the same time. No amount of pulling was able to start the dock and the natural supposition was that the heavy chain and bridle, overboard in less than five fathoms of water, had fouled something on the bottom or had settled into the mud deep enough to form an effective anchor. The Potomac was pushing behind the dock and the Caesar was eventually put on ahead of the Brutus, but with no result except some broken lines. Finally, after four hours of such fruitless endeavor, it was discovered on the dock that their anchor had picked up a big mooring chain which was holding them very securely! It was soon cleared and the expedition started on its voyage, but it was after dark before the Glacier got her boats and working party on board from the dock and was thereby delayed from getting into the tow until daylight the next morning. As soon as the dock was well underway the Potomac parted company to return to the United States; without much regret I imagine, as her small size had converted the hardships of the voyage into genuine suffering for her crew.
Though something less than half the distance from Chesapeake bay to the Philippines had now been accomplished, a point is reached in this narrative from which the remainder may be quickly told, and will be no longer a succession of tales of storm and breakdowns. With full confidence in the new train of towing gear, the three ships steamed ahead at full power and got results that would have been surprising in mid-Atlantic. Though for the most part calm and hot—bad weather for steaming—the run of 1,200 miles through the Red Sea was made in eleven days and the same rate was maintained through the Gulf of Aden, where we experienced both favorable and adverse currents, making 123 miles one day and 97 another, though making the same revolutions of the engines both days in smooth water. We passed the eastern end of Socotra May 21, about twenty miles south of us, and entered the open ocean, where no monsoon was found; only a swell and light breezes from S. S. E. and south, and, after we had advanced about 200 miles, occasional passing showers with light variable winds. Sighted Minicoy June I when we were passing through the eight-degree channel.
It is within the observation of the oldest inhabitants about Bombay that the southwest monsoon very rarely sets in during a period of moonlit nights. It was full moon this year on the sixth of June, the night our expedition was passing Point de Galle, and the monsoon had not yet broken, nor did it break until the moon quartered, a week later, and considerably later than the annual average time. Lecky, than whom there is no better authority, ridicules the idea that the moon has influence over the weather, but nevertheless the southwest monsoon broke in the Indian Ocean in 1906 about two weeks later than usual, and if the full moon period at that time did not delay it, what did? That two weeks’ respite was the making, or rather the mending, of our fortunes in the towing squadron. From Ceylon to the north end of Sumatra there is a pronounced easterly current and with that and fine towing weather combined to help us we broke all previous records several days in succession, and one day, June 9, we reached our high-water mark with 152 miles. Very early the morning of June 13 violent rain squalls, with fresh to strong breezes, fell upon us from S. S. W., raising a heavy sea and throwing the ships into more uncomfortable motion than we had felt for two months. This was probably the overdue “burst” of the monsoon, but we were so nearly beyond its reach that we did not care whether it was or not. The next day we passed Pulo Bras and into smooth water behind Sumatra in the Strait of Malacca, where good weather favored us again.
Just after midnight the morning of June 21 we arrived off the port of Singapore and felt quite proud of ourselves, for we had hauled the refractory dock 5,000 miles in forty-eight days without a breakdown and with only a few brief delays. These were occasioned by one funeral, a Chinese seaman having died on the Brutus, and by the necessity of slowing down about once a week to allow boats to visit the Glacier for fresh provisions and ice. A leaking joint in the feed pipe of the Glacier obliged her to stop for about two hours, which stopped the whole flotilla, as she was towing at the head of the column. A similar accident on the Caesar did not compel us to stop, as she stopped her engines and the other ships kept on at full speed, carrying the Caesar along like a dead locomotive in the middle of a freight train. In the course of the forty-eight days the Glacier was out of the towing line fifty-two hours, having gone into Colombo for coal and to exchange mails.
In entering port at Singapore two accidents occurred that had no serious results, but each came close to being a disaster. It so happened that we arrived there at the change of the moon, with its accompanying spring tide and darkness, and the hour of our arrival was unfortunately such that we struck an unusually strong tide running with us close to the port. We rounded Raffles light shortly before midnight of an extremely dark night and the next hour the flotilla made nine miles, half of which was due to the tide, but this was not a welcome help, as the immediate problem was to stop and not to make speed. According to previous practice the Glacier cast off and sheered out of the column to heave in her lines. Soon afterward the Caesar slowed down to reel in some of her wire hawser and immediately things began to happen. The Brutus closed up on the Caesar so quickly that she had to stop and back, and the dock, driven onward by the powerful tidal current, swept up dangerously close to the Brutus. In this situation, which was surely a critical one, both colliers went ahead at good speed, the Caesar to escape from the Brutus and the latter to get away from the huge mass of the dock looming up in the darkness astern. When they got opened out they found the dock adrift, the big double shackle between the chain span and the dock’s bridle having carried away when the lines came taut.
I believe all this happened because the people on the colliers did not realize in the darkness how strong the tide was running and therefore did not think of the possibility of the dock having a progressive movement of its own. Nothing in our previous experience with it suggested anything but a sudden stop whenever the towing force was removed. At any rate, they were all fortunate to get out of it without a serious smash-up, for the results of six months of hard sea-faring came near to being marred there within as many minutes. The water was about 50 fathoms deep where this occurred: the dock was therefore allowed to drift along with the tide until it got into about 25 fathoms, when it was brought up with two of the 4,ooo-pound mushroom anchors on the end of 180 fathoms of 6-inch wire line, the Glacier and Caesar standing by. The break, occurring where it did, left the Brutus with fifteen tons of chain overboard on the end of her wire tow line, and this she could not heave over the rail with all the power of her winches. In such predicament she steamed into the port dragging the long and heavy chain over the bottom, and stopped when she got to a good place without being obliged to anchor, the chain over her stern attending to that. Later, when the dock had arrived and anchored, the Brutus dragged the chain into proximity, when it was unshackled and the end taken to the dock by an 8-inch manila line, after which it was an easy matter to get it on board with the powerful steam capstan of the New York.
Heaving in the 180 fathoms of wire with two anchors on it proved a hard task for the dock and it was almost 9 a. m. before that structure was underway again, being in tow of the Caesar only. The Glacier went into port and anchored and the Caesar brought the dock in an hour later and anchored it about 300 yards off our port beam. Signalling the dock to let go the tow-line, the Caesar went ahead with starboard helm to turn out of the narrow space between the dock and the Glacier. A considerable tide was running, which swept her down toward our bow and we veered chain to 120 fathoms to make more room for her. When she was nearly pointed to pass clear of us it suddenly developed that her tow-line had not been let go from the dock, and this coming taut over her port quarter neutralized the helm effect and she just missed ramming us on our port side forward. As it was, she fell across our bow, carrying away our bowsprit, which fell over board, and damaging her bridge and awning stanchions and boat davits considerably. The actual injury to the ships was so small that we could have gone to sea and resumed towing the dock within two hours, but it was a narrow escape from a bad accident, as the Caesar had way enough on to have cut the Glacier down had she struck her in the hull. ‘
A week was spent at Singapore to give liberty to our crews while coolies coaled the ships. The men had earned a rest and extended shore leave, which they got, without regard to conduct class, and for which many of them showed appreciation in the characteristic manner so well known to commanding and executive officers. The Chinese crews of the colliers did not abuse their privileges and did not make any extra work for the police force on shore. We left Singapore the afternoon of June 28 and entered the China Sea for the last leg of our long voyage. The southwest monsoon was now well established and for several days we had favorable winds varying in force from light breezes to moderate gales, with much rain, thunder and lightning, through which we made good progress as the prevailing direction of the wind was nearly astern. Then followed lighter and more variable winds with smooth seas and considerable blue sky, which period was taken advantage of to clean and paint our upper works and get the ships into presentable condition for entering port.
Looking for trouble I think that some of us saw unusual colors at sunset and long plumes of cirrus clouds radiating from a point in the horizon almost any time we looked for such things. But if we thought we saw them, no harmful results followed, and at daylight July 10 we saw what we wished to see, the entrance to Subig Bay close ahead and a correspondingly satisfactory distance from the Patuxent river. At noon the day before, which ended the last whole day's run we were to make, the observed position gave 111 miles made good, which is mentioned because of its coincidence with the day’s run our first whole day out from Chesapeake Bay. Entering Subig Bay, we received a noisy welcome, of steam whistles and sirens from the Ohio, Rainbow, and some smaller naval vessels. Then we “shelled off ” from the end of the tow and hauled in the heavy water-logged lines for the last time, the Glacier first and then the Caesar, leaving the Brutus to take the dock to the designated anchorage off Olongapo, which was reached and the dock’s anchor let go at 8:55 a. m. We fully expected to moor the dock and strip it of the temporary towing appliances before being done with it, but an order had been received from the Navy Department that we were excused from any more dry-dock duty as soon as the dock was anchored, for which we were thankful, as we had had enough to satisfy us. After being only about four hours in that port we got underway and left for Cavite, leaving the dock behind with no great regret at thus suddenly terminating a long fellowship, and with full confidence that we shall recognize it if we ever see it again.
[The original document from which this web page was transcribed can be found here.
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