Such seamen are fast becoming extinct. They are almost totally
unnecessary in steamships, except when the engines break down in
a gale of wind, and the crowd of navvies forming the crew stand
looking at one another when called upon to set sail or do any
other job aloft. THEN the want of seamen is rather severely felt.
But even in sailing ships--the great, overgrown tanks of two
thousand tons and upwards--mechanical genius has utilized iron to
such an extent in their rigging that sailor-work has become very
largely a matter of blacksmithing. I make no complaint of this,
not believing that the "old was better;" but, since the strongest
fabric of man's invention comes to grief sometimes in conflict
with the irresistible sea, some provision should be made for
having a sufficiency of seamen who could exercise their skill in
refitting a dismasted ship, or temporarily replacing broken
blacksmith work by old-fashioned rope and wood.
But, as the sailing ship is doomed inevitably to disappear before
steam, perhaps it does not matter much. The economic march of
the world's progress will never be stayed by sentimental
considerations, nor will all the romance and poetry in the world
save the seaman from extinction, if his place can be more
profitably filled by the engineer.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298