The log of the U.S.S. ________ for Tuesday, April 13, 1909, contains the following record:
Commences and until 4 a.m.—Cloudy with light airs and mist, getting heavier last part of watch. Gentle breeze from South, barometer falling. Made preparations for getting under way and at 1:50 got under way with 4 boilers and set course SE by E (psc). At 2:10 put over patent log reading 99.8. At 2:43 changed course to South 8 West (psc) patent log 5.3. Steered various courses standing toward Steep Island Pass. Captain and Navigator conning. At 3:20 decreased speed to slow speed. At 4:30 resumed full speed. At 3:50 passed Steep Island light abeam. At 3:55 set course South 12 West (psc) patent log 17.2. . ..
4 to 8 a.m.—Overcast, foggy, misty, cloudy and cool with light drizzling rain last part of watch. Barometer steady, then rising. Steaming under 4 boilers on course South 12 West (psc) speed about 10 knots. Stopped and sheered out to port to clear fish nets, then resumed full speed. Took slow speed at 5:44 to aid in picking up Tong Ting. Resumed full speed at 6:05. At 6:25 changed course to South 46 West (psc) Changed speed to 8 knots at 7:00. Took soundings during watch. Resumed full speed at 7:53. . . .
8 a.m. to Meridian.—Cloudy to overcast with thick fog during watch. . . Steaming under 4 boilers on course South 46 West (psc) heading into Nimrod Sound. At 8:14 made standard speed 8 knots. . . At 8:57 went slow speed. 9:03 stopped, hauled in patent log reading 63.8. Half speed 9:15. At 9:26 went full speed and changed course to West (psc), put over patent log reading 63.8. Half speed 10:15. 10:18 went full speed, changed course to W N W (psc) patent log 66.2. At 10:27 half speed. 10:29 slow speed, and at 10:36 stopped and hauled in patent log reading 68.2. At 10:37 slow speed, at 11:25 half speed and at 11:27 full speed and changed course to North 30 West (psc). Put over patent log reading 68.2. Half speed 11:45 and till end of watch. . . .
Meridian to 4 p.m.—Cloudy to overcast with thick fog and heavy mist. Steaming under 4 boilers on various courses, Captain conning. At 12:25 anchored in 8½ fathoms of water with 30 fathoms on starboard chain. U. S. S. ________ bearing South 43 East, distant about 700 yards....
The anchorage of the ________, as taken from her log, was on the following angles: “Right tangent Reef Island to left tangent Flake Island—96° 17': Left tangent Flake Island to left tangent Wenchow—45° 11'.”
In itself this record is not particularly noteworthy, except for the indications that thick fog and heavy mist prevailed during the entire time covered. Those of us who can claim to be “China coasters,” however, and any others who care to glance at the chart reproduced herewith will realize that a remarkable bit of navigation is involved in this seemingly matter- of-fact record. The currents in the waters of the Chusan Archipelago are strong and erratic, and not very well known, and the soundings do not afford a particularly trustworthy guide.
At the time this trip was made I, as a freshly-made Ensign, was Navigator of the ________, and a sturdy old seaman of what we now call the “Old Navy” was in command. As he has now passed beyond the reach of human criticism I feel free to indulge a long suppressed desire to tell this story in print, as I have often told it in private conversation. And right here let me pay a tribute to this officer as having been one of the most daring and successful navigators under whom it has ever been my privilege to serve.
Among his peculiarities was a strong belief in Christian Science as the means of solving all difficulties aboard ship. How successful (?) it was at the mast we used to discuss in the wardroom with strong and profane reservations. The Chief Engineer once got himself in decidedly wrong by offering to submit to a wager the treatment of a leaky boiler tube, and we noticed that the Old Gentleman said “Ouch!” and rubbed his bald spot when a hot drop from an overhead gasket hit it, very much like the rest of us.
However, if it was Science that enabled him to navigate the way he did we had to take off our hats to it, and the trip in question I have never been able to account for in any other way than by believing that the skipper got an inspiration from something.
To begin with, we needed some kind of spiritual sustenance, for we had been stopped by radio at the Fairway Buoy off the entrance to the Yangtze Kiang, and instead of spending the Easter holidays with our families, permanent or temporary, in Shanghai, were to return to Nimrod Sound to help keep fishermen from stealing the target range buoys.
After lying off the Fairway Buoy all night we started back through the Bonham Strait, and used the best part of a day swinging ship. Fog held us up twice, and it was not until midnight of the 12th that it cleared for a few hours.
We had anchored the day before a little to the northward of Elgar Island, and about 2:00 a.m. of the 13th, as the log shows, we got under way and set a course to take a departure from that light. Before we had passed it the fog shut in again and until we reached Steep Island Pass nothing was sighted at all.
I was new at the navigating game, and did not hesitate to admit to the Captain that so far as I was concerned the safe conduct of the ship through the passages ahead was “by me.” In fact, I more than admitted it, “I said it loud and clear, I went and shouted in his ear,” and made sure that someone heard me say it, too, for I had visions of playing hide and seek around those islands that did not appeal to me at all. I would have been willing to wait all summer, if necessary, for a few hours of clear weather.
In those days the ________ had an upper railing around the top of the pilot-house.
The skipper took a big wicker chair up there, with a copy of Mary Baker Eddy and the Bible, and proceeded to conn the ship, leaving me with the chart down on the lower bridge to estimate our situation as well as I could.
Steep Island Pass is a nice enough landfall in clear weather, but we hit it right in the center through fog so thick you could not see the length of the ship. As we went boiling through it with a 4-knot tide under us we could dimly make out the white wash of the breakers along the rocks, and just as we got under the light the fog gun went off, 200 feet above us, but it was so thick that we never even saw the flash of it.
To the best of my recollection, and it is pretty keen, even after all these years, that was the last definite landmark we saw until the flagstaff of the ________ showed up out of the fog, dead ahead, in Nimrod Sound.
When we got down to where we headed in to make Nupi Shan Channel, I again expressed my unwillingness to be associated in any way with the coming disaster, but was received with perfect assurance and a degree of confidence that could not help but be impressive.
Conning up through the channel the skipper would occasionally look over the bridge rail and quietly remark “Port a point” or “Starboard a half” as the situation seemed to demand, but so far as I could see without any reference to the chart, and certainly without any reference to the lay of the land, for there was no land to be seen. Shushan Island and Starboard Jack were probably there, but they remained invisible.
For what seemed to me like an eternity after turning northwestward we held on, without a sound but the melancholy call of the leadsman assuring us that there was still water under us, anyway.
Finally the Captain said “Stop,” then “Half astern,” “Stop,” and “Now look out for the ________!” In about a minute a dim shape loomed up ahead, and we made out the flag and stern of the ________, and heard her fog bell.
What is the answer? I have been asking myself that these many years. Of course, there was nothing supernatural about it. It was a splendid exhibition of absolute self-confidence, based on long experience and familiarity with the locality, and supported by a faith so absolute that it could not be denied. A finer demonstration of “Be sure you’re right, then go ahead” would be hard to find.
An interesting sequel to our trip is found in the fact that about two weeks later one of the China Merchant’s boats, making the same channel in the middle of a bright sunny forenoon, struck a hitherto uncharted pinnacle rock, and was a total loss.
After hearing this news I traced back our course as nearly as I could and came to the conclusion that we had missed that rock by about four inches!