XIII.
There has been a time when a ship's chief mate, pocket-book in hand
and pencil behind his ear, kept one eye aloft upon his riggers and
the other down the hatchway on the stevedores, and watched the
disposition of his ship's cargo, knowing that even before she
started he was already doing his best to secure for her an easy and
quick passage.
The hurry of the times, the loading and discharging organization of
the docks, the use of hoisting machinery which works quickly and
will not wait, the cry for prompt despatch, the very size of his
ship, stand nowadays between the modern seaman and the thorough
knowledge of his craft.
There are profitable ships and unprofitable ships. The profitable
ship will carry a large load through all the hazards of the
weather, and, when at rest, will stand up in dock and shift from
berth to berth without ballast. There is a point of perfection in
a ship as a worker when she is spoken of as being able to SAIL
without ballast. I have never met that sort of paragon myself, but
I have seen these paragons advertised amongst ships for sale. Such
excess of virtue and good-nature on the part of a ship always
provoked my mistrust. It is open to any man to say that his ship
will sail without ballast; and he will say it, too, with every mark
of profound conviction, especially if he is not going to sail in
her himself. The risk of advertising her as able to sail without
ballast is not great, since the statement does not imply a warranty
of her arriving anywhere. Moreover, it is strictly true that most
ships will sail without ballast for some little time before they
turn turtle upon the crew.
A shipowner loves a profitable ship; the seaman is proud of her; a
doubt of her good looks seldom exists in his mind; but if he can
boast of her more useful qualities it is an added satisfaction for
his self-love.
The loading of ships was once a matter of skill, judgment, and
knowledge. Thick books have been written about it. "Stevens on
Stowage" is a portly volume with the renown and weight (in its own
world) of Coke on Littleton. Stevens is an agreeable writer, and,
as is the case with men of talent, his gifts adorn his sterling
soundness. He gives you the official teaching on the whole
subject, is precise as to rules, mentions illustrative events,
quotes law cases where verdicts turned upon a point of stowage. He
is never pedantic, and, for all his close adherence to broad
principles, he is ready to admit that no two ships can be treated
exactly alike.
Stevedoring, which had been a skilled labour, is fast becoming a
labour without the skill. The modern steamship with her many holds
is not loaded within the sailor-like meaning of the word. She is
filled up. Her cargo is not stowed in any sense; it is simply
dumped into her through six hatchways, more or less, by twelve
winches or so, with clatter and hurry and racket and heat, in a
cloud of steam and a mess of coal-dust. As long as you keep her
propeller under water and take care, say, not to fling down barrels
of oil on top of bales of silk, or deposit an iron bridge-girder of
five ton or so upon a bed of coffee-bags, you have done about all
in the way of duty that the cry for prompt despatch will allow you
to do.
