Man on the Ocean: A Book about Boats and Ships. Robert Michael Ballantyne

and hindrances is the aim and end of navigation; and the manner of proceeding is as follows:—

      The hour is carefully noted on setting sail, and from that moment, night and day, to the end of the voyage, certain observations are made and entered in the ship’s journal, called the log. Every hour the rate at which the ship is going is ascertained and carefully noted. The point of the compass towards which the ship is to be steered is given by the captain or officer in command to the steersman, who stands at the wheel with a compass always before him in a box called the “binnacle.” The course is never changed except by distinct orders from those in command; and when it is changed, the hour when the change is made and the new course to be steered are carefully noted down. Thus, at the end of the day, or at any other time if desired, the position of the ship can be ascertained by her course being drawn upon a chart of the ocean over which she is sailing,—correct charts, or maps, being provided by the captain before starting.

      The estimate thus made is, however, not absolutely correct. It is called the “dead-reckoning,” and is only an approximation to the truth, because allowance has to be made for leeway, which can only be guessed at. Allowance has also to be made for variations in the rate of sailing in each hour, for the winds do not always blow with exactly the same force during any hour of the day. On the contrary, they may vary several times within an hour, both in force and in direction. Those variations have to be watched and allowed for; but such allowance may be erroneous in a greater or less degree. Currents, too, may have exerted an unseen influence on the ship, thus rendering the calculation still less correct. Nevertheless, dead-reckoning is often the only guide the sailor has to depend upon for days at a time, when storms and cloudy skies prevent him from ascertaining his true position by other means, of which we shall speak presently.

      Of course, in the early days of navigation there were no charts of the ocean. The navigator knew not whither he was hurrying over the wild waste of waters; but by observing the relative position of some of the fixed stars to his course while sailing out to sea, he could form a rough idea of the proper course to steer in order to return to the port whence he had started.

      The compass, then, shows the sailor the course he has been going, and the log (of which more presently) enables him to ascertain the rate at which he has proceeded; while his chronometers, or time-keepers, tell him the time during which the course and rate of sailing have been kept up. And many a long cruise on the unknown deep has been successfully accomplished in days of old by bold seamen, with this method of dead-reckoning; and many a mariner at the present day depends almost entirely on it, while all are, during thick, stormy weather, dependent on it for days and sometimes weeks together.

      The log, to which we have referred, is the instrument by which is determined the rate at which a ship is progressing. It is a very simple contrivance: a triangular piece of wood about the size of a large saucer, with a piece of stout cord fastened to each corner, the ends of the cords being tied together, so that when held up, the “log,” as it is called, resembles one of a pair of scales. One of the cords, however, is only temporarily attached to its corner by means of a peg, which when violently pulled comes out. One edge of the triangle is loaded with lead. The whole machine is fastened to the “log-line,”—a stout cord many fathoms long, which is wound on a large reel.

      “Heaving the log,” as we have said, takes place every hour. One sailor stands by with a sand-glass which runs exactly half a minute. Another holds the wooden reel; and a third heaves the log overboard, and “pays out” line as fast as he can make the reel spin. The instant it is thrown the first sailor turns the sand-glass. The log, being loaded on one side, floats perpendicularly in the water, remaining stationary of course; while the man who hove it watches sundry knots on the line as they pass over the stern of the ship, each knot representing a mile of rate of speed in the hour. As the last grain of sand drops to the bottom of the glass the first sailor gives a sharp signal, and the second clutches and checks the line, examines the knot nearest his hand, and thus knows at once how many knots or miles the ship is sailing at that time. The sudden stoppage of the line jerks the peg, before referred to, out of the log, thereby allowing the other two fixed cords to drag it flat and unresisting over the surface of the sea, when the line is reeled up and put by. The flight of another hour calls for a repetition of the heaving of the log.

      As scientific knowledge advanced, instruments of peculiar and more complicated form were devised to enable navigators to ascertain more correctly their position on the surface of the sea; but they did not, and never will, supersede the method by dead-reckoning—for this reason, that the latter can be practised at all times, while the former are useless unless the sun, moon, or stars be visible, which in some latitudes they are not for many days and weeks, when clouds and fogs shroud the bright sky from view.

      The Quadrant is the chief of those instruments. It is represented on next page. To give a succinct account of this would take up more space than we can spare. It may suffice the general reader to say that by observing the exact position of the sun at noon, or of the moon or a star, in relation to the horizon, the precise latitude of a ship—that is, her distance north or south of the equator—is ascertained. The method of “taking an observation” is complicated, and difficult to explain and understand. We refer those who are curious on the point to treatises on navigation.

      Chronometers are exceedingly delicate and perfect time-keepers, or watches, which are very carefully set at the commencement of a voyage. Thus the time at the meridian whence a vessel starts is kept up during the voyage. By means of an observation of the sun with the quadrant, or sextant (a somewhat similar instrument), the true time at any particular point in the voyage may be ascertained. A difference is found to exist between the time at the spot where the observation is taken, and the time of the chronometer. A calculation founded on this difference gives the ship’s longitude—that is, her distance east or west of the meridian that passes through Greenwich. That meridian is an imaginary line drawn round the world longitudinally, and passing through the north and south poles, as the equator is a line passing round it latitudinally.

      When a ship’s latitude and longitude have been ascertained, and a line drawn through the first parallel to the equator, and another line through the second parallel to the first meridian, the point where these two lines intersect is the exact position of the ship upon the sea.

      The size and form of ships having gradually improved, the compass and other scientific appliances having been discovered, cannon also and gunpowder having been invented, seamen became more courageous and venturesome; and at last the Portuguese nation began that career of maritime enterprise which won for it the admiration of the world.

      About the beginning of the fourteenth century (1330), the Canary Islands, lying off the west coast of Africa, were re-discovered by the accident of a French ship being blown off the coast in a storm, and finding shelter amongst them. This group had been known to the ancients under the name of the Fortunate Islands, but had been forgotten for more than a thousand years. During the course of the century the Spaniards plucked up courage to make discoveries and settlements upon them, although by so doing they were compelled to undergo that much-dreaded ordeal—sailing out of sight of their once fondly “hugged” land!

      In the beginning of the next century arose a prince, Don Henry, son of John the First of Portugal, whose anxiety to promote discovery, and to find a passage by sea round the coast of Africa to India, induced him to send out many expeditions, all of which accomplished something, and many of which added very extensively to the geographical knowledge of the world at that time. Navigators, sent out by him from time to time, discovered the Madeira Islands; sailed along the western coast of Africa a considerable distance; ascertained the presence of gold-dust among the savages on the Gulf of Guinea; discovered the Azores, besides numerous other islands and lands; crossed the equator, and approached to within about eighteen hundred miles of the south-most cape of Africa.

      The discovery of gold-dust stirred up the energies of the Portuguese in a remarkable degree, and caused them cheerfully to undertake ventures which, without that inducement, they would probably never have undertaken at all. Moreover, they had now learned to quail less at the idea of losing sight of land; and towards the end of the fifteenth century (1486), Bartholomew