74 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Jan. 20, 1912. 
twang, sounding like a Caledonian bag pipe, 
and the twang was followed by the yodel of the 
Scandinavian, which warble is such a delight to 
a sailor’s ear. All hands pulled with a will and 
the yard went up to its resting place. 
An after examination of the rigging showed 
how an iron yard fifty-six feet long and weigh¬ 
ing over a ton could readily be hoisted into 
place by nine man-power. Attached to the 
center of the yard is a chain which leads over a 
block in the center of the mast; this chain ends 
in another block close to the slot in the mast. 
Through this block leads a chain and steel 
cable up to the block and down across the ship, 
one end of which is made fast to the bulwarks; 
the other to a block and tackle fastened to the 
opposite side of the ship. A stout rope is rove 
in the block called the fore topsail halliard, upon 
which all hands exert their force. It is by this 
division of the weight from pulley to pulley and 
tackle to tackle that the yard can be managed 
so readily by the foremast hands. The yard is 
held to the mast by a thimble, known as a 
parrel, which permits it to slide up and down. 
A study of the rigging is a lesson in natural 
philosophy which explains how each pulley re¬ 
duces the required pulling force one-half to 
lift a given weight, but that nothing is really 
gained in power, for it takes twice the time to 
lift the weight. But again, in the passing, we 
must bow to the riggers who have practically 
applied the principles of physics to the ropes 
of a vessel and made it possible for man to 
put in position all kinds of canvas wings on 
sticks called masts and yards and make the 
wind blow him to his desired destination. 
Latitude, 30° 3' north; longitude, 130° 51' 
west. Day’s run go miles. Honolulu 1,485 miles 
away. 
July 29, 1911; wind, northeast, variable; course, south, 
30“ west. 
Doldrums was the order of the day, but the 
change was very agreeable. For six days the 
sky had been overcast and the temperature too 
cool to be comfortable. With the slacking of 
the winds and the sun piercing the clouds, there 
came the balmy air of the summer sea shore 
and the ocean was as blue as a washtub of 
blueing. 
Four times during the day the skipper wore 
ship to catch the variable slants of the light 
shifting wind. The maneuver of wearing ship 
is the reverse of tacking, for instead of the 
bow being swung into the wind the stern is 
slewed around into the direction of the breeze. 
The first inkling of what is to happen comes 
when the captain says, “Square the main yard.’’ 
d'he mate on duty then hustles his watch aft 
and shouts to slack up the lee braces, the ropes 
which are holding the yards on the wrong side 
of the mast. Then the watch is brought over to 
the other side of the ship to haul taut the 
weather braces, the ropes which are on the side 
from which the wind is blowing. In the mean¬ 
time the helm has been put over and, by the 
time the braces are trimmed to the right posi¬ 
tion of the wind and the mizzen spanker and 
topsail (stern sails') are jibed over, the ship is 
on the right course. 
The brace of every yard has to be hauled 
taut, beginning with the lowest yard and ending 
with the highest, or as sailors call them, .main 
(on the main mast) topsail, upper topsail, top¬ 
gallant sail and royal. The braces of the lower 
yards lead to the side of the vessel; those of the 
upper yards to the center. When the yards are 
hauled around square to the wind in the move¬ 
ment of wearing ship, the former weather 
brace becomes the lee brace and the former lee 
the weather. 
Splendid exercise this hauling around the 
braces. The landlubbers of the cities who have 
to play golf or similar gentle games in order 
to live should take a whack at hauling braces 
on a square-rigger, then they would surely have 
enough strength to carry their own golf sticks 
and not need the services of the small boy. The 
brace exercise is also recommended for liver 
trouble and all forms of indigestion. It cer¬ 
tainly throws sickness to the four winds and 
puts vim and vitality into every fiber of the 
human body. 
All day long the ship lolled in the Pacific 
waiting for the northeast trades, though they 
came not, and she sped not. It was a day of 
rest and ease. At sunset there was breeze 
enough to move her and the new moon made 
her appearance shining directly in the path of the 
bark, thereby silhouetting the fine curves of the 
square sails against the dark background of the 
night. A beautiful sight, and anyone was moved 
to utter the lines of Stephen Phillips: 
“Alas! must ye utterly vanish and cease from amidst us. 
Sails of ye olden sea; 
Now disposessed by the stern and stunted ironclad, 
Wingless and squat and stern. 
Alas! must ye go as a dream and depart as a vision. 
Sails of the olden sea.” 
Latitude, 29° 45' north; longitude, 131° 3' 
west. Day’s run 22 miles. Honolulu 1,440 miles 
away. 
July 30, 1911; wind northeast; course, south, 74° west. 
All of the saints and all of the sinners never 
had a more glorious Sunday than this July 30, 
on the sun-spangled Pacific, and yet the captain 
says we have not reached the trades but it is 
a delightful northeast breeze, one that would 
drive a yachtsman to ecstacy and one that 
drove the bark along at a rate of five knots. 
The scene was a sky-blue sky, curtained here and 
there with cloud drapery, an ocean dotted with 
crested blue waves and over all a sun as genial 
as a kindly friend. It was a day to make a 
believer say, “Praise God from whom all bless¬ 
ings flow,’’ and a non-believer to bow his head 
in admiration of the Creator of the Universe. 
Sundays aboard a sailing vessel are as far as 
possible a day of rest, only the absolutely neces¬ 
sary work is done, work required in the hand¬ 
ling of the ship. The sailors take the day to 
wash themselves and their clothing and to loaf 
and read on the forecastle head or house. The 
officers spend the day in talking over the ship’s 
needs and deeds and other ships’ blunders. 
In the evening the passengers had the bene¬ 
fit of two concerts, the sailors took a hand for¬ 
ward at playing the accordion, and each nation¬ 
ality played its country’s airs. There is 
rarely a forecastle but that has an accordion 
and players. It is the universal instrument of 
the toilers, afloat and ashore. In the cabin 
house or chart room, situated on the poop 
deck, the captain started his phonograph, and 
in this corner of the far-away Pacific the ship’s 
company could hear the best opera soloists of 
the world and joined in song themselves as the 
old airs were played by the bands or orchestras. 
Latitude, 29° 30' north; longitude, 132° 4' 
west. Day’s run 45 miles. Honolulu 1,400 
miles away. 
July 31, 1911; wind northeast; course, south, 71° west. 
As five bells (6:30 a. m.) sounded this morn¬ 
ing the ship was beginning to catch the north¬ 
east trade winds and was moving along at a 
good clip. The wind was nearly dead aft (be¬ 
hind) and had been for several days. Not a 
tack had been made since the start, only the 
wearing around a few times in the day of calms, 
and the hauling around a little of the braces as 
the wind canted on the more breezy days. To¬ 
day whitecaps were appearing on the horizon. 
The striking of the ship’s bells and the 
method of keeping time aboard ship are always 
a subject of curiosity to landsmen. Instead of 
keeping track of hours and minutes, the crew 
works by the number of bells. Beginning at 
12:30 p. M., one bell is sounded; at i p. m., two 
bells; 1:30, three bells, and so on every half 
hour until 4 p. m., eight bells, when the count 
begins again and runs up to 8 p. M., when eight 
bells are struck again and the same number at 
midnight and 4 a. m. At every eight bells a 
watch (half the crew) goes on duty, the watches 
being divided into four hours each, excepting 
the period from 4 to 8 p. m., which is divided 
into watches of two hours, that every day each 
part of the crew may not be on duty at the 
same time. These two-hour periods are known 
as dog watches and have furnished sailors many 
yarns and writers much nautical lore. 
The watches of a windjammer are divided into 
the starboard and port (right and left) and the 
members of a watch are supposed to bunk on 
their respective sides of the forecastle. The 
different watches are selected as soon as the 
sails are hoisted on leaving port, the mates 
summoning the crew amidships and each officer 
(of course, beginning with the first) picking a 
man at a time. The Welch carrying eight fore¬ 
mast hands, there were four seamen in each 
watch. During the daytime the watch on duty 
was kept busy making sail and cleaning ship. 
At night they were on the lookout. One man 
in each watch was always at the wheel and the 
wheelsmen were changed every two hours. 
This left three men for work. At night one 
man would be stationed way forward on the 
forecastle head, two would be in the waist ot 
the ship and the fourth at the wheel. As the 
helmsman left the wheel, he repeated to the 
officer of the watch the course he had been 
steering, and a mate was always bn duty with 
his watch, ready to give orders or take a hand 
at the ropes, the broom or the needle. Busy 
men these first and second mates with scant 
leisure or sleeping time. The first mate must 
be also, according to law, a navigator and take 
an observation every day, which is checked off 
with that of the captain, and the mate also keeps 
the ship’s log, recording the wind, course, 
weather, position of the ship and the work done 
during the day. 
The ship’s time is determined every noon by 
the captain and mate “shooting the sun.” That 
is determining with the sextant when the sun 
is at the point of highest altitude, which is 
noon. The captain then orders eight bells, 
which are struck by the man at the wheel and 
repeated on the forward bell by a foremast 
