110 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. 27, 1912. 
place she could move under nature’s never-fail¬ 
ing power of the wind. She was not a steamer 
forever subject to machinery breakdowns and 
then helpless until the break is repaired. And 
as we had the broad Pacific to ourselves, there 
was but a slight possibility of collision. Of 
course, the danger of fire was ever present, as 
it is ashore, particularly in this age of promis¬ 
cuous smoking, which permits the carrying every¬ 
where of lighted fire brands, but we depended 
upon the officers and crew to keep out that horror 
of horrors—a fire at sea—and to put out quickly 
any flame, which happily to say there was none. 
So all in all we felt quite as safe, if not more 
so, than in traveling in a steamer, a railroad 
train or an automobile, and probably we were 
far more safe than in crossing the dangerous, 
congested highways of a modern city. 
Latitude, 23° 55' north; longitude, 147° 03' 
west. Day’s run, 128 miles. Honolulu, 600 miles 
away. 
Aug. 6, 1911; wind eas.t by north; course, south, 65® 
west. 
Vigorous trades and ample sunshine made an¬ 
other beautiful Sunday on the Andrew Welch. 
The mates wore gaiters, Sunday clothes and 
smiles; the crew an air of peace and content¬ 
ment, while the captain was happy in the breeze 
and prospect of an early arrival during the week. 
Quick passages are forever on the minds of 
skippers. 
Captain Kelly at first estimated we would sail 
2,500 miles in making Honolulu, but it now looks 
as if this estimate would be reduced. The 
steamer course is 2,100 miles, the direction being 
southwest. Sailing vessels, however, in order to 
run more quickly into the trades, steer first south 
and then west, making a little longer course. 
Returning to the Pacific coast they steer first 
north and then east, in this way avoiding zig¬ 
zagging back and forth or tacking, instead they 
take advantage of the steady trades. The correct 
steaming and sailing directions for the Pacific 
ocean are now plotted and published each month 
by the Hydrographic office of the Navy Depart¬ 
ment and by the Weather Bureau of the Depart¬ 
ment of Agriculture, the United States Govern¬ 
ment giving most valuable up-to-date informa¬ 
tion for navigators. Quite different than in the 
exploring days of Magellan, De Gama and Cook, 
when printed charts were unknown, likewise un¬ 
known islands, reefs, shoals and other perils to 
navigation. 
The reader may have noted in this log that 
the day’s runs of the ship do not correspond 
from day to day with the distance from Hono¬ 
lulu. The reason is that a degree of longitude 
north or south of the equator does not measure 
sixty nautical miles, but diminishes until at the 
poles it is nothing; consequently in a ship sailing 
southwest on the run to Honolulu, the day’s 
journey does not equal the day’s difference in 
distance from Honolulu as measured on the 
chart from noon to noon with a chart allowance 
of sixty miles to a degree of longitude. The 
observation at noon to-day showed that the 
Welch had crossed the Tropic of Cancer and 
was now within the torrid zone. 
One of the remarkable commentaries about 
sailing ship travel is the low cost compared with 
steamships. The rate for a berth on a sailer to 
Honolulu is only forty dollars and the outward 
voyage to the islands may last from fifteen to 
twenty-five daVs, while returning it may take 
even forty days. The minimum fare on a steamer 
either way is sixty-five dollars and the trip lasts 
but six days, therefore the sailer gives three 
times the number of meals and houses a pas¬ 
senger three times as long as the steamer and 
charges 40 per cent, less, but in this age of 
hurried luxury travel, which makes such adven¬ 
ture cowards out of the traveling public, people 
pay all kinds of prices for the sake of living 
amid apparent magnificence, and with the possi¬ 
bility of rushing to their destination and seeing 
little or nothing of the land or sea over which 
they traverse. 
Latitude 23° 04' north; longitude, 149° 06' west. 
Day’s run, 125 miles. Honolulu 495 miles away. 
Aug. 7, 1911; wind east northeast; course, south, 59° 
west. 
Another glorious day on the sun-spangled 
Pacific with a good genial breeze and flying-fish 
darting around the ship. The passengers were 
moved to enter into the spirit of the weather by 
climbing the rigging. An athletic “Redlands 
youth,” followed by a portly “Frisco knight 
courteous,” had been taking shys at rigging 
climbing for a week past, and to-day the captain 
jumped into the game, going straight up to, and 
standing on the main royal yard, a distance of 
135 feet above water—as high as the Brooklyn 
Bridge. The “Redlands youth” followed, touch¬ 
ing the yard, and then the captain came down 
the wire stays hand over hand, abandoning the 
rattlings (ladders). He then escorted the “Belle 
of the Bark” up to the main top. This was too 
much for “Red’ands Mac” and he sprang into 
the rigging. The remaining passengers followed 
suit, including the “fiery Texan,” Madame Geor¬ 
gia and Senora San Francisco (their sea nffik 
names), aand were well repaid for the effort by 
the sight of the mighty ocean and the smiling 
faces of the sailors and officers upon the decks. 
The second mate passed the word aloft “to be 
careful and not squeeze the tar out of the rig¬ 
ging.” Not a bad bit of humorous advice con¬ 
sidering the way that the greenhorn rigging 
climber clings to everything within clinging dis¬ 
tance. He feels as if he did not have hands 
enough, and when he gets down he is ready to- 
praise the sailor who has to run up the rigging, 
the blackest, stormiest, roughest night and no 
time to consider the danger. Sailors are cer¬ 
tainly entitled to all of the hero songs and 
praise that have been bestowed upon them. If 
kind and thoughtful treatment had always been 
their portion on all ships, they might have 
thought their lives worth the living of the heroes 
pictured in verse and song. 
Another favorite perch of the passengers is 
out on the bowsprit. This great iron pole, point¬ 
ing ahead at a raking angle and supplied with 
ample hand and foot ropes, gives a vantage point 
of looking backward on the ship and water, which 
is simply fascinating in vision and charming in 
hearing, for above are the inspiring, towering 
masts, yards and square sails; below is the surg¬ 
ing, foaming spraying ocean playing about the 
ship’s bows. At the end of the bowsprit is fast¬ 
ened a shark’s tail, it being the custom on the 
Welch to lash to the jibboom (end of bowsprit) 
every shark caught on the bark. Contrary to 
some sea superstition the performance has never 
taken the wind out of the sails of the Andrew 
Welch. 
The taffrail log was put over the side to-day 
to keep a more accurate record of the day’s run, 
as land was drawing near. 
Latitude, 21° 51' north; longitude, 152° 20' 
west. Day’s run, 175 miles. Honolulu 330 miles 
away. 
Aug. 8, 1911; wind northeast by north; course, south, 
67° west. 
Our southing and westing is pretty well run 
down with only 275 miles between us and Hono¬ 
lulu ; about the same wind and same course each 
day as we stroll over the sparkling Pacific. The 
ship is being “house cleaned” for the arrival in 
port. The teak woodwork has been sand scoured, 
then oiled, which brings out the rich coloring of 
this superb wood. The poop deck has been 
scoured and oiled, the binnacle lamps polished 
and also the brass work, and there is a general 
air of expectancy everywhere. Prizes are being 
offered for the first passenger to sight land, with 
a penalty to the one who takes the heavens or 
the ocean for terra firma. 
Mark Twain, in his capital story of outdoor 
life, entitled “Roughing It,” relates how in a 
voyage in a sailing ship from Honolulu to San 
Francisco the passengers, during a protracted, 
monotonous calm, were so hard pressed for oc¬ 
cupation and amusement that they gave a part 
of their time every day to trying to sit on an 
empty champagne bottle, lying on its side, and 
at the same time thread a needle without touch¬ 
ing their heels to the deck or falling over. The 
passengers of the Welch were not driven to such 
an extremity, for in the first place we were 
not becalmed long enough to bother us; in the 
next place we had no champagne bottles, and 
finally the time was spent too pleasantly in other 
ways. 
There were some land-loving passengers aboard 
who longed to see mother earth, but to the sea 
lovers every day was a joyful dream, and we 
were of the opinion, expressed in Paul Eve 
Stevenson’s fine descriptive book, “By Way of 
Cape Horn,” in which he says: “Ah, no one 
knows what the real beauties of the sea are until 
he has made at least one deep-water voyage in 
a sailing ship. The flying glimpse of the Atlantic 
that one catches from the deck of a steamer or 
the experiences of a midwinter voyage to the 
Mediterranean gives one no idea of what ocean 
life really is. No; to comprehend the sea in 
all of its splendid phases one must live on it 
for months at a time, for not till then can one 
fully appreciate that “they that go down to the 
sea in ships that do business in great waters, 
these see the works of the Lord and his wonders 
in the deep.” 
Latitude, 20° 49'; longitude, 152° 14'. Day’s 
run, 85 miles. Honolulu, 275 miles away. 
[to be concluded.] 
The announcement was made last week that 
the extensive collection of game heads made by 
Clarence H. Mackay had been presented by him 
to the National Collection of Heads and Horns 
now housed in the Administration building of 
the New York Zoological Society in Bronx Park. 
The group comprises four bison heads, ten elk 
heads and twelve moose heads, and taken to¬ 
gether it is one of the finest collections of its 
kind in existence, while some of the specimens 
are unequalled. 
