Chapter EIGHTEEN: Treats of One of Our Great Ironclads

While these stirring events were taking place among the mountains, I had made arrangements to quit the hospitals at Sistova and proceed with a detachment of Russian troops to the front.

The evening before my departure I received a most unexpected and interesting letter from my friend U. Biquitous, the effects of which were so surprising, and I may add unparalleled, that I cannot forbear quoting it. After a few of those sage reflections in which Biquitous is prone to indulge, he went on to say:--

"You will be surprised to hear that there is some probability of my
meeting you shortly, as I have become a special correspondent, like
yourself. My paper, however, is an illustrated one, an Irish weekly
of some merit, named the _Evergreen Isle_, which will now, it is
expected, advance to the front rank of such periodicals. I purpose
using the pencil as well as the pen, and, unlike you, and subject to
no restrictions of any kind. I have _carte-blanche_, in fact, to draw
what I like, write what I please, go where I feel inclined, stay as
long as I may, and quit when I must. Veracity is no object. I am
told to keep as many servants and as large a retinue as I find
convenient, and to spare no expense. For the duties of this situation
I am to receive no salary, but am at liberty to pay my own expenses.
The honour of the thing is deemed more than sufficient compensation.

"In virtue of this appointment I went recently to see and take notes
of Her Majesty's famous ironclad turret-ship, the _Thunderer_.
Knowing how much you are interested in the navy of England, I will
relate a little of what I saw, premising, how ever, that although
strict veracity is not required of me, I am, as you know, a man of
principle, and therefore impose it on myself, so that whatever I say
in this letter in regard to this splendid man-of-war may be relied on
as absolutely true.

"Well, then, the gallant captain of the _Thunderer_, who is said to be
one of the best disciplinarians in the service, and to have done many
a deed of daring in the course of his adventurous career, received me
very kindly. He is every inch a sailor, and as there are full
seventy-three inches of him, I may be excused for styling him a
splendid specimen. In consequence of my being a friend of a friend of
his, the captain invited me to spend several days on board. During my
stay I inhabited the captain's `fighting cabin,'--and this, by the
way, reminds me that I was introduced to a young lieutenant on board,
named Firebrand, who says he met you not long ago at Portsmouth, and
mortally offended your mother by talking to her about the
_Thunderer's_ crinoline! The `fighting cabin' is so styled because it
may be inhabited in safety while the ship is in action, being within
the ship's tremendous armour plating. In times of peace the captain
occupies a large handsome cabin on the deck, which, although made of
iron capable of resisting winds and waves, and beautifully furnished,
is nevertheless liable to be swept bodily into the sea if hit by the
giant shot of modern days. A corresponding cabin on the port side of
the ship constitutes the ward-room. This also might be blown to
atoms, with the officers and all their belongings, if a shell were to
drop into it. But the officers also have places of refuge below while
in action.

"A large proportion of what meets the eye above the water-line of this
ironclad, and looks solid enough, is of this comparatively flimsy
build; not meant to resist shot or shell; willing, as it were, to be
blown away, if the enemy can manage it, though proof against
rifle-bullets. There is a huge central erection, styled the `flying'
or `hurricane' deck, from which enormous davits project with several
boats pendent therefrom. Out of this flying structure rise the great
iron mast--with a staircase inside leading to the `top'--and the two
smoke-funnels of the engines. In the heart of it rises `the fighting
tower,' an armoured core, as it were, from which the captain and
officers may survey the aspect of affairs while fighting, steer, and,
by means of electricity, etcetera, work the monster guns of the ship.
If all the flimsy work about the vessel were blown into the sea, her
vitality would not be affected, though her aspect would indeed be
mightily changed for the worse, but the _Thunderer_ in her entirety,
with her low-armoured hull, her central fighting-tower, her
invulnerable turrets with their two 35-ton and two 38-ton guns, and
all her armament and men, would still be there, as able and ready for
action as ever.

"Very simply yet very tastefully arranged did the captain's fighting
cabin seem to me as I lay down on its narrow but comfortable bed, the
first night of my visit, and looked around me. Besides a commodious
little chest of drawers, there were on one wall telescopes, swords,
and naval caps; on another a compact library. Above my head,
stretching diagonally across the bed, was an object which caused me no
little surprise and much speculation. In appearance it resembled a
giant flute with finger holes that no man of mortal mould could have
covered. Not till next morning did I discover that this tube was part
of a system of air-distributing pipes, supplied by fanners worked by
steam, whereby fresh air is driven to every part of the vessel.

"`So,' said I to myself, turning to the prettily-painted wall at my
side, and giving it a slight tap, `the proverbial two-inch plank
between me and death is here increased to somewhere about thirty
inches.'

"In this soliloquy I referred to the _Thunderer's_ armour-plates, of
from ten to twelve inches thick, which are affixed to a timber backing
of eighteen inches in two layers. With such a backing of solid
comfort between me and `death,' I felt soothed, and dropped asleep.

"It was Saturday night. On Sunday morning I was awakened by a rushing
of water so furious that I fancied the sea must have proved more than
a match for the 12-inch armour and 18-inch backing; but a moment or
two of attentive reflection relieved me. Your friend Firebrand's
voice was audible. I listened. He muttered something, and yawned
vociferously, then muttered again--`Splend--propns--a--yi--a--ou!'

"`Splendid proportions!' he resumed again, after a pause, during which
the rush of water became more alarming, sundry gasps and much hard
breathing being mingled with it,--`Mag-nificent,' continued Firebrand
in the low calm tone of a contemplative connoisseur; `couldn't have
believed it if I hadn't seen it. Quite Herculean!'

"From all this I came gradually to understand that some of the
officers were performing their morning ablutions with sponge and
towel, while Firebrand was looking languidly over the edge of his
hammock, indulging in a critical commentary.

"Just then I was surprised to hear a muffled thunderous bang! It was
the big drum, and, next moment, the ship's band announced itself with
a single bar, excellently played, of `God Save the Queen.'

"Every Sunday, I found, was begun by a careful and minute inspection
of the crew and ship. After breakfast the captain, followed by all
his chief officers, went through every hole and corner of the mighty
iron fabric. I followed in his wake. At first the thought did not
occur to me, but after all was over it struck me that this act was
somewhat appropriate to the day. The great _Thunderer_ had, as it
were, gone into a condition of introspection.

"It was a species of self-examination on the part of the great
war-ship, through the medium of its mind--the captain. Here was the
father of a tremendously large family going the rounds on Sunday
morning to observe whether his moral precepts and personal example
during the week had been attended with appropriate results--to see
that his `boys' were neat and clean, and ready for church, and that
they had arranged their rooms before breakfast.

"First of all, the men were mustered (by bugle) on the upper deck,--
marines on one side, blue-jackets on the other. Then we walked slowly
along the front ranks and down the rear, with critical eyes. I
observed a crooked collar; the captain observed it too, and put it
straight: I saw an ill-put-on belt; the captain also saw it, pointed
and referred to it in an undertone. A hole in a pair of trousers I
did not observe, but the captain saw it, and commented on it in a
somewhat severer manner. Nothing was passed over. Every brawny,
powerful, broad-shouldered blue-jacket there was, in nautical
phraseology, overhauled from stem to stern. A comment here, a word of
approval there, or a quiet reprimand, was all that passed, but, being
uttered to the attentive ears of the responsible officers, this was
sufficient. After inspection, the men were dismissed, and the captain
with his following descended to the interior of the ship. It would
take reams of paper, my dear Jeffry, to refer to all that was said and
done. I must give you but a brief outline. We went along the sides
of the vessel, where the arms were ranged, and any speck of rust or
appearance of careless treatment of the polished and glittering
weapons was noted, and the responsible officer called then and there
to account. So was it in every department. The _Thunderer_ lies low,
as I have said; much of her is below water, therefore light is scarce
and valuable. During our perambulation we came to some machinery and
bulkheads, etcetera, which were dingy in colour. `Paint them white,'
said the captain to the officer of each department; `I don't point out
details, but use as much white paint as you can. It makes the ship
look light and cheerful.' Every order given was emphatic yet
considerate; given to the officer in whose department the hitch
occurred, and retailed by him to subordinates who knew well that they
would come to grief if they did not make a note of it. Many of the
`departments' were so well managed that no fault at all could be
found, and it was evident that the captain, in such cases, found a
pleasure in `giving honour to whom honour was due.'

"`Some men,' said Firebrand, who chanced to be close to me, and to
whom I commented on the advantage of thorough obedience, `some men,
however, carry this quality a little too far. I knew of a man once,
named Billy Ewart, who prided himself greatly on the care with which
he fulfilled every part of his duty, so that it was impossible for the
strictest disciplinarian to find fault with him. He had charge of the
main deck. One day the Admiral inspected the ship, and took occasion
to praise Billy Ewart for cleaning so well the main deck and
everything connected with it. "The only dirty things I see," he said,
pointing to a hen-coop, "are the legs of your geese." This was, of
course, a joke, but it preyed on Billy's mind, and at next inspection
he had the geese whitewashed and their legs and bills blackleaded.
Poor Billy had no peace after that; even at the theatres, when he
chanced to be observed there by his mates, one would call to another,
"I say, Jack, who whitewashed the geese!"'

"As Firebrand concluded, we had completed the inspection of the main
deck, and descended to the lower deck, where the men lived and messed,
and where a clean and trim blue-jacket--`cook of the mess' for the
day--stood at the head of each table. The tables and cans and tins
and platters and men were required to be as clean and bright as a new
pin. Then on we went to the berth of the warrant-officers, and after
that down still lower to the engine-room. There the chief engineer
came to the front and became responsible for the mighty cranks and
gigantic cylinders and awe-inspiring beams, and complicated mazes of
machinery, which raised him, in my mind, to little short of a
demigod--for you must know that I, like yourself, am full of
admiration and ignorance in regard to engineering forces. Next we
went to the lowest depths of all, among the boilers, which appeared to
me like an avenue--a positive street, sir--in Pandemonium. It was
here that the tremendous explosion occurred in July 1876, when upwards
of forty men were killed and many wounded, the captain himself (who
was in the engine-room at the time) having narrowly escaped
suffocation. Thereafter, the magazines of shot and shell were
visited, and, in short, every hole and corner of the ship, and thus in
an hour or so it was ascertained that the Nelsonian demand, and
England's expectation, had been fulfilled,--`every man' had done `his
duty,' and the great ironclad was pronounced to be in a healthy,
Sabbatic state of mind and body.

"In this satisfactory frame we finally went to the fore part of the
ship, where we found the crew assembled, and where, standing at the
capstan, the captain read the Church of England service, the responses
being effectively rendered by the stalwart crew. In regard to this
service I will only remark that I observed the introduction of a
prayer which was entirely new to me, namely, that for the blessing of
God on the ship, its crew, its duties, and its destination, to which I
could and did, with all heartiness, respond `Amen,' because as long as
God's blessing rests on the _Thunderer_ she will not be sent out to do
battle in an unrighteous cause.

"Next morning I had an opportunity of witnessing the big-gun turret
drill.

"It was an imposing spectacle, a fine display of the power of mind
over matter. Force, might, weight, appeared to have attained their
culminating exemplification here, and yet the captain said to me that
his 35-ton and 38-ton guns are mere pistols to the things which are
being prepared for vessels of our navy yet to come.

"My dear fellow, do you know what a 38-ton gun means? Have you ever
seen one? Can you appreciate the fact that its weight is equal to
thirty-eight carts of coals? Did you ever see the powder with which
it is fed? One grain of it was given to me as a great favour, by the
chief gunner's mate--I think that is his correct title, but am not
quite sure. He presented it in a cardboard box. I now send you its
portrait."

[_Facsimile of a grain of powder for the 38-ton guns of the
Thunderer--actual size_.]

"Here it is, as large as life--really so, without a touch of
exaggeration. I have measured it carefully with a tape foot-rule, and
I find the dimensions to be five inches and a quarter in
circumference.

"It is a solid cube of gunpowder. The cartridge which holds this
powder is a pillow, an absolute bolster, of some three feet in length
and twelve inches in diameter. It had need be, for the shell which it
is meant to propel is the size of a small boy and the weight of an
average ox, namely 814 lbs. The length of each 38-ton gun is nineteen
feet, and its range about 6000 yards. Just try to imagine an ox being
propelled through space, between three and four miles, at a rate which
I don't recollect, and which doesn't signify. Try also to remember
that each gun costs between 2000 pounds and 3000 pounds, and that,
every time a turret lets fly a shot from one of her guns, the expense
is 12 pounds, 10 shillings. The 80-ton guns which are to supersede
these will, it is said, cost upwards of 10,000 pounds each. This will
enable you to form some idea of England's `greatness.'

"The drill and working of these guns is magnificent. Nearly
everything in the fore-turret is worked by steam and hydraulic power,
so that comparatively few men are required to move the iron monsters.
Let me ask you to imagine the men at their stations. Some are inside
the turret, and as guns and turret move in concert the men inside move
with them. Those outside the turret stand at its base, and are
therefore below the iron deck and protected by the iron sides of the
ship. The insiders revolve, aim, and fire the gun; the outsiders
load. The first lieutenant, standing at the base of the tower, close
to the hole by which it is entered, so that he may be heard by both
out and insiders, shouts, `Close up,' in the voice of a Stentor. At
this some men grasp levers, others stand by wheels which let on
respectively hydraulic power and steam. The captain of the tower,
seated on an elevated position, puts his head through a man-hole in
the roof of the turret, which hole is covered with a bullet-proof iron
hood, having a narrow opening in front. He surveys the supposed
enemy, and his duty is to revolve the tower, take aim, and let go the
firing machinery, i.e. pull the trigger. The outsiders stand by the
locking bolt, levers, shot-racks, etcetera. Then, in the attitude of
ready-for-action, all become motionless attentive statues--a regular
_tableau-vivant_.

"Stentor again shouts, `Cast loose.' To my ignorant eye energetic
confusion ensues. The captain of the turret is causing it to revolve
this way and that, with its crew and guns, by a mere touch of his
finger. Lever and wheel-men do their duty; the guns are run in (or
out when required) with the ease of pop-guns, till certain marks on
carriages and slides correspond; then they are laid, firing-gear is
cleared and made ready, while the outsiders take out the tompion, open
the port and scuttle of the gun about to be loaded, bring forward a
bolster of powder (or a representative mass of wood), and place a
giant shot on a `trolly,' which is just a little railway-carriage to
convey the shot on rails from its rack to the gun. Meanwhile the
captain of the turret gives the order, `Starboard (or port) loading
position,' turns the turret until the gun is opposite its
`loading-hole,' and then depresses its muzzle to the same point, jams
it against the hole, and the turret is `locked.'

"`Sponge and load,' is now given--but not by Stentor. The forces at
work are too great in some cases to be left to the uncertain human
voice. A piece of mechanism, called a `tell-tale,' communicates with
infallible certainty that the monster is quite ready to feed! A
hydraulic ramrod thereupon wets his whistle with a sponge, on the end
of which is a small reservoir of water. The monster is temperate.
This withdrawn, a wad is placed on the end of the ramrod. Three men
shove a bolster of powder into the gun's mouth. The huge shot is then
hydraulically lifted to the muzzle. No mortal man could move that
shot a hair's-breadth in the right direction, but the hydraulic ram is
brought to bear, and shoves the delicious _morceau_ not _down_ but
_up_ his throat with an ease that would be absurd if it were not
tremendous. The tell-tale now intimates to the insiders, `Gun
loaded.' The captain of the turret gives the order, `Run out.'
Hydraulic at work again. In a few seconds the gun muzzle is raised,
and projects through its port-hole. When the object and distance are
named, the captain of the turret takes aim, and then follows, in more
or less rapid succession, `Elevate,' `Depress,' `Extreme elevation,'
or the reverse, `Ready!'--`Fire!' when the _Thunderer_ is shaken to
her centre, and twelve pounds ten shillings sterling go groaning
uselessly into the deep, or crashing terrifically through the
armour-plates of an unfortunate enemy.

"My dear fellow, this gives you but a faint outline of it, but time
and paper would fail me if I were to tell in detail of the mode by
which all this can be done by the captain of the _Thunderer_ himself,
by means of speaking-tubes and electricity and a `director,' so that
he can, while standing in the fighting tower, aim, point, and fire, as
if with his own hand, guns which he cannot see, and which are forty
feet or so distant from him. Would that I could relate to you a tithe
of what I have seen!--the day, for instance, when the blue-jackets, to
the number of one hundred and fifty, had a field-day on shore, and
went through infantry drill--skirmishing and all--as well, to my
unpractised eye, as if they had been regular `boiled lobsters,' to say
nothing of their manoeuvres with the Gatling gun. This latter weapon,
perhaps you don't know, is simply a bundle of gigantic muskets which
load and fire themselves by the mere turning of a handle--a martial
barrel-organ, in short, which sends a continuous shower of balls in
the face of an advancing or on the back of a retreating foe. The
greater involves the less. No one can deny that, and it is my opinion
that in the British navy the sailor now includes the soldier. He is,
as it were, a bluejacket and a boiled lobster rolled into one
tremendous sausage--a sausage so tough that would be uncommonly
difficult for any one, in Yankee phrase, to `chaw him up.'

"Then there is the Whitehead torpedo.

"`A thing of beauty,' says the poet, `is a joy for ever.' The poet
who said it was an--no, I won't go that length, but it is clear that
he had not seen a Whitehead torpedo. That delicate instrument is
indeed a thing of beauty, for it is elegantly formed of polished
steel, but when it happens to stick its head into a ship's stern, it
is not a `joy' even for a moment, and it effectually stops, for ever,
all consideration of its qualities by those who chance to feel them.
It is shaped like a fish, and has a tail. Its motive power is in its
tail, which is a screw propeller. It has lungs, consisting of a tank
for holding compressed air. It has a stomach, composed of a pair of
pneumatic engines which drive it through the water. Its body is
fourteen feet long, more or less. Its head contains an explosive
charge of 110 pounds of wet gun-cotton, with a dry disc of the same in
its heart. It goes off by concussion, and could sink our largest
ironclad--there is no doubt whatever about that. Its cost is between
four and five hundred pounds sterling. One of the peculiarities of
this celebrated torpedo is, that it can be regulated so as to travel
at a given depth below water. This is not so much to conceal its
course, which is more or less revealed by the air-bubbles of its
atmospheric engine, as to cause it to hit the enemy ten or twelve feet
below her waterline. What the effect of this new war-monster shall be
is at present in the womb of futurity. I hope sincerely that the
world may suffer no greater loss from it than its cost.

"By the way, I must not forget to tell you that I have grown at least
an inch since I saw you last, in consequence of having been mistaken
for the captain of the _Thunderer_! That the mistake was made by a
pretty, innocent, sweet, ignorant young girl, with intensely blue
eyes, does not abate my vanity one jot. That such a mistake should be
made by _anybody_ was complimentary. It happened thus:--I was seated
alone in the captain's cabin, writing for the _Evergreen Isle_, when a
party of ladies and gentlemen passed the door and looked in. They
were being shown over the ship. `That,' said the blue-jacket who
conducted them, `is the captain's cabin.' `And is that,' whispered
blue-eyes, in the sweetest of voices, `the captain?' My heart
stopped! U. Biquitous the captain of the _Thunderer_! I felt
indignant when blue-jacket replied, with a contemptuous growl--`No,
miss, 'taint.' They passed on, but I could not rest. I rose and
followed blue-eyes about the ship like a loving dog, at a respectful
distance. I tried to find out her name, but failed--her address, but
failed again. Then they left, and she vanished from my sight--for
ever.

"But enough of this. Adieu, my dear Jeffry, till we meet.--Yours
affectionately, U.B.

"P.S.--I mentioned you to the captain as a friend of mine, and an
enthusiastic torpedoist. Be sure you call on him if you should ever
find yourself in the neighbourhood of the mighty _Thunderer_."