On A Lightship
Jan. 5th, 2014 06:12 pmHE SENDS THIS FROM THE NORE.
"Click, click, click, click," accompanied with a continuous "burr-urr-burr-uerr," like the sound made by the revolving shaft of a screw streamer; overheard the footsteps of the two men on the look-out--footsteps not rhythmical, but now slow, now quick, as the ship tosses and dips her bows. A loud, clear, "ping," followed by the opening of a door, then for a minute all other sounds are drowned by a noise that a baby's exaggerated cracker might make. Another "ping," comparative quietness resigns again. Such are the sounds that assail the ear of your friend Ulysses, who at the moment of writing is to all intents and purposed a prisoner in the estuary of the Thames.
I am in a cheerfully lit cabin, as clean and bright as a newly-minted shilling, and as big as a dining-room table. Behind me is the bunk that amid all these noises I slept in last night as sound as a top. In front of me is a lamp lashed to the table, and, if I life my eyes, they light upon the honest face of Peter Frost, who is making up his log, and who for nearly five years now has been master of the Nore lightship. Behind him again is his sleeping bunk. A brightly-polished copper stove, drawers underneath, and little cupboards at the side of each bunk, and a small book-case complete the equipment of this snug room, who acquaintance I made yesterday afternoon on the famous lightship at the mouth of the Thames.It was then about five when the Vestal's cable was slipped from our starboard bow, and as the yacht which had brought me to the Nore steamed away I waved my adieux to Captain Reading, from whom I had received many kind attentions on the way down.
"You're a prisoner here now," said the master in kindly tones. "You can't send any letters off by post from here, or a telegram. You can't go a walk either for a change of air if the ship should disagree with you. But we'll have a cup of tea ready in a few minutes, and then it'll be time to light the lantern." I find that to get off the Nore is not an easy matter, else I should have been home by this time.
Meanwhile all hands were busy, putting the deck in something like order, for besides myself, the master, and three men, the Vestal had landed on the lightship's deck a ton of coal, a quantity of casks of water, drums full of oil, and boxes of provisions and clothes. These were put away only temporarily for the night, and this with tea brought us close to sunset, the time for hoisting the lantern, which, during the day, is in the deckhouse. I had a look at it here while it was being lit, which operation is performed by the cook for the time being.
It is octagonal, and is outside measurement is 18 feet. Inside it are 24 separate lamps, arranged in eight groups of three in the form of an equilateral triangle with the apex downwards. As these lamps revolve, one groups sheds its combined light in a particular direction, appearing to the spectator in the line of this direction like a large globe of light. This is only for a moment, for one lamp after another ceases to shine in this direction, and the globe of light dwindles until it disappears. Meanwhile, however, the first lamp of the next three is coming round, a faint spark appears, which slowly grows, until the rays from all three are focussed again in the direction of the on-looker. Thus, if anyone at a distance could always keep abreast of the same point of the lantern, the light to him would always appear the same.
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Cricket in Australia
Jan. 2nd, 2014 05:59 pm
From Chums, 21 June 1893
From Chums, 26 April 1893
WOMEN SAILORS.
WHO FOUGHT IN MANY BATTLES.
IN a newspaper of seventy years ago, we are gravely informed that there died at Tamerton, in her sixty-fourth year, a Mistress Mary Pote. A very respectable person was Mistress Mary, popular all the country round, and, what's more, butt-woman of Tamerton Parish Church.
Butt-woman? What does that mean? Well, there is no explanation to be found in any reasonably accessible reference book, but no doubt the position of "parish butt-woman" must have been a highly responsible charge. That must have been so for the reason that the previous career of Mistress Mary was of such a distinguished character that it could not well have been capped by an office wanting in all the dignities. Mistress Mary had been a sailor on board a man-of-war for years, and she had fought under Rodney.
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WOMEN SAILORS.
WHO FOUGHT IN MANY BATTLES.
IN a newspaper of seventy years ago, we are gravely informed that there died at Tamerton, in her sixty-fourth year, a Mistress Mary Pote. A very respectable person was Mistress Mary, popular all the country round, and, what's more, butt-woman of Tamerton Parish Church.
Butt-woman? What does that mean? Well, there is no explanation to be found in any reasonably accessible reference book, but no doubt the position of "parish butt-woman" must have been a highly responsible charge. That must have been so for the reason that the previous career of Mistress Mary was of such a distinguished character that it could not well have been capped by an office wanting in all the dignities. Mistress Mary had been a sailor on board a man-of-war for years, and she had fought under Rodney.
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Keeping Squirrels
Jan. 6th, 2013 10:29 pmTHE SQUIRREL.
LIKE the white mouse, the squirrel can hardly be recommended on the score of usefulness. You could, for instance, scarcely expect it to guard the house as a dog would, or to catch beetles; and I don't think many people would be tempted to try squirrel pie. Putting utility on one side, however, it is impossible to have a more interesting, amusing, and handsome pet than Mr. Squirrel.
It would be sending coals to Newcastle to tell a country reader anything of the habits of the squirrel, much less how to catch him. Many a tall fir have I swarmed up to dislodge a little ball of red fur clinging to a slender, swaying branch, and then, when the branch has been reached and vigorously shaken, and Mr. Squirrel drops to the ground as light as a feather-- oh, the grief to see it slip through the too eager hands of my schoolfellows, and go scampering up another tree, taller and more inaccessible than the last!
Sometimes we were successful, however, and there was a triumphant march home, with the terrified animal struggling in a handkerchief. Our pets soon pined away and died. I suppose they found it impossible to delude themselves into believing that their new domicile--a soap-box--was as good as the boundless freedom of the forest.
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LIKE the white mouse, the squirrel can hardly be recommended on the score of usefulness. You could, for instance, scarcely expect it to guard the house as a dog would, or to catch beetles; and I don't think many people would be tempted to try squirrel pie. Putting utility on one side, however, it is impossible to have a more interesting, amusing, and handsome pet than Mr. Squirrel.
It would be sending coals to Newcastle to tell a country reader anything of the habits of the squirrel, much less how to catch him. Many a tall fir have I swarmed up to dislodge a little ball of red fur clinging to a slender, swaying branch, and then, when the branch has been reached and vigorously shaken, and Mr. Squirrel drops to the ground as light as a feather-- oh, the grief to see it slip through the too eager hands of my schoolfellows, and go scampering up another tree, taller and more inaccessible than the last!
Sometimes we were successful, however, and there was a triumphant march home, with the terrified animal struggling in a handkerchief. Our pets soon pined away and died. I suppose they found it impossible to delude themselves into believing that their new domicile--a soap-box--was as good as the boundless freedom of the forest.
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On Top Of A Great Clock
Jan. 6th, 2013 10:00 pm"ULYSSES, you must climb Big Ben." Such was the brief but unmistakable message, boys, which I received from your discriminating editor a few days ago.
I confess it set me thinking--tingling. Often had I seen what is familiarly styled "Big Ben." In my nocturnal rambles along the river's banks in search of subjects for story and narrative, my eyes had frequently lifted themselves to its great moons of faces. Many a shudder, too, has passed over me as I contemplated the tremendous issues and awful consequences turning upon every movement of the slow yet fleeting hands of the great timepiece. I had watched its stern face at dead of night, at rise of sun, in broad day- light, and at setting sun; but then I was far off on terra firma below. The idea of climbing the mass of solid masonry--thirty-five feet square, of peering into the face of the giant measurer of Chronos, was a new sensation. What would the face say to me?
Winding
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A Run with a Mail Van
Sep. 7th, 2012 09:27 pmBorrowing from Chums again, the 4 January 1893 this time. I opened this issue up, saw the story was about mail vans and went to pick up the next issue. For we know what mail vans are like, bags of mail are thrown into them at one station and then thrown out at another, and that is all there is to it. Then I looked at the picture showing the interior of a van.
OK maybe there is a bit more to it. So, here is A Run with the Mail Van:
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OK maybe there is a bit more to it. So, here is A Run with the Mail Van:
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Diving suits, 1890s style
Aug. 20th, 2012 09:26 pmThese images come from Chums, an illustrated magazine for boy of which I used to have a bound album of the first year's issues. Some time back the cover got eaten, so now they're less bound. But that makes them easier to scan.
Being an illustrated boys paper, it is full of articles & illustrations about cameras, bicycles, sports and a regular column where the writer visits/takes a ride on some interesting devices. In the November 1892 issue, his adventure was deep sea diving, which I've borrowed the pictures from. I expect I shall borrow more pictures for others issues. (Requests?) I've also included the description of the diving suit.
(As a side note, this particular book was originally given to May Gutteridge, for 1st prize in home lessons, Lymington Sunday School.)
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Being an illustrated boys paper, it is full of articles & illustrations about cameras, bicycles, sports and a regular column where the writer visits/takes a ride on some interesting devices. In the November 1892 issue, his adventure was deep sea diving, which I've borrowed the pictures from. I expect I shall borrow more pictures for others issues. (Requests?) I've also included the description of the diving suit.
(As a side note, this particular book was originally given to May Gutteridge, for 1st prize in home lessons, Lymington Sunday School.)
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