THE OLD SHIP-YARD.

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Issue 3542, 15 November 1882, Page 4

THE OLD SHIP-YARD.

BY BISHOP CLAItK, OF RHODE ISLAND,

There was a time when aliipa were built on our shores, and in those days the 'American clipper' w;is the pride of the sea. TIII3 was before the protective policy of a, ■wise and discriminating government had made it impossible for us to compete with foreigners in the matter of ship-building ; and pertains to a period when the stars and stripes floated from many a mast-head, where the old Hag is now becoming rare and strange. The ship-jarda near the mouth of the

Merrimac were among the delights of my boyhood. How fragrant was the odor of the freshly-cut chips, mingled with the choice perfume of boiling tar, richer than the ' spices of Araby,'—how musical the clang of multitudinous hammers, as the blows resounded through the great, resonant cavern of the hollow ship,—what a charm there was in the gold and green crimson figure-head, with its elaborate carvings and strange devices, as it came all fresh and glowing from the shop of the artist, —what a day it was, when at last the time for the launching arrived, and the cradle was duly completed into which the great ship was to settle down and slip away into life, and the toai/s had been abundantly greased, and a bold man took his place at the end of the keel, hammer in hand, to break away the after-block, which was all that kept the huge mass from starting (what became of this man, after the vessel did start, was always a mystery), and then, when she began to move and the flag was spread to the breeze, and the bottle of wine dashed against the ship, while the name by which she was to be known was shouted in stentorian tones, and ship, cradle, and all, glided slowly and gracefully off into the water —what was there wanting to fill up the measure of our joy P Nothing except the rare privilege of being on tlie clecTc, instead of outside the vessel, and being allowed to sail with her as she took her first voyage to the wharf down the river. Every stage in the process of ship-build-ing, from the beginning to the end, had its peculiar charm. The laying of the long, stiff keel —the backbone of the mighty structure —the insertion of the stout timber ribe in that spine, until the whole skeleton stood before us, gnanfc and terrible as all skeletons are, —the bending of the sheathirgplanks to their place, and driving home of the pins and copper bolts —clothing the barge form with their graceful covering, until at last we saw the final finish given to the luxurious cabin, with its mahogany and rosewood panels and gilded cornices, and the work was done.

Country-bred boys, and boys brought up ; n metropolitan cities, can hardly appreciate the romance which gathers about the sea, and all sea-going craft, on the part of those who happen to have lived in one of the old New England maritime towns which once had a flourishing foreign trade, that is now

■well-nigh extinct. We knew every big vessel not only by name, but all about her history and sailing qualities, and where she ■was bound, and what sort of cargoes she carried, and when she would probably return, and what she would probably return, and what she would bring home. If it ■were likely to be a cargo of salt, or some such vulgar commodity, we were not so careful to be present at the unloading ; but if it included foreign fruits, and molasses, and sweetmeats, and cocoanuts, or if it might be expected that there would be a paiTot or two, or a few monkeys, or any other living curiousity, on board, we were quite sure to be at the wharf. How well do I remember the wooden shoes that came from Holland, and how hard it was to walk in them, and the gorgeous fur caps from Russia—so gorgeous that we hardly dared to wear them in the street—and other things from divei'3 quarters the use of which always remained a puzzle. There was an old ship that was laid up in an out-of-the-way dock, and after being stripped of every thing valuable enough to be removed, it was abandoned to slow decay. The doors, much to our delight, wore all left unlocked, so that the boys had free course everywhere, and for some reason the bell on the deck had not been taken away, which was to use a source of perpetual pleasure, for although we always had in mind the vague dread of calling out the fire department, we could not resist the temptation to strike the hours of the watch, and imagine that we were sailors on the briny deep roused by the stroke from our midnight slumbers to take our turn upon deck, under the starry sky, and surrounded by the wild waste of waters. Sometimes we would ' turn in,' and stretching our limbs in the somewhat unsavory berths, ' make believe ' that we were on a voyage to China, or some other far distant port; or sit around the dilapidated cabin, and ' spin our yarns,' as we had heard the real mariners do, when we called upon them in their stifled quarters. How real it seemed to be then ! If we had had a Longfellow in our ranks, what a poem he might have made out of that ancient ship ! Looking back upon all this from a distance of some three-score yeare, I feel inclined to moralize a little. The boys that used to loiter around the old ship-yard were all in one sense ship-builders themselves— each of them had his own craft to make, the vessel in which he was to sail. Ido not suppose that the thought of this fact came to our minds very often. If it had, we might have learned some valuable lessons from what we saw going on around us. We might have observed that, in order to the building of a good ship, there must be a good model to work from. No one could expect to make much of a voyage who should go to sea in a bowl, and yet we see a great many persons paddling about in society, who at the best can only float with the tide. Any cross-current is fatal to them. The best model of a ship is that which combines the largest carrying capacity with the highest degree of speed. Bulk and force are the two leading elements of character. Our greatest men are those who are freighted with a large cargo, so disposed that it does not impede their action.

Another lesson that we might have learned in the ship-yard is the importance of laying, in the beginning, a good, strong keel. When a vessel runs upon a rock, this is the the first thing to strike, and when the keel gives way everything is lost. Some characterless youths appear to think that they can get on well enough without any keel—anything to hold them together and keep them true. If they can only make a show for a little while, and keep their flags flying, and sail handsomely before the wind, they are content ; but the first hard storm is the end of them.

Another lesson that we might have learned is the importance of building of sound timber. As a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, so a ship is only as strong as its weakest plank. One rotten, worm-eaten piece of timber is enough to wreck the craf fc. One ' cunning bosom sin ' n-ay be the ruin of a man. And again, the timbers must nob only be sound, they must also be well riveted. If the bolts in a ship are not of good metal and driven well home, she will prove to be unscaworthy. The way in which he binds his planks together is one test of a true ship-builder, and so every man should see to it that all his faculties are well compact and firmly joined. A looselimbed person is never of much service. One further lesson we might have learned in the ship-yard, and that is, taking care to lannch the vessel into water deep enough to float her. Some people strike bottom at the first go-off, and so never get to sea at all. Ships are usually launched at high water, and there is ' a tide in the affairs of men' which we must regard if we would ' sail on to fortune'