Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 24, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 June 1895 — WHAT THE LIGHTS TELL. [ARTICLE]

WHAT THE LIGHTS TELL.

Signals of Ships «t Night, and What Thsy M*an A railroad train cannot turn to the right or left at will, for it is bound by the iron tracks to go the way they lead, and the trains coming toward it are guided in another set of tracks to pass safely by. Therefore the engineer may rush his train along over the guiding tracks, through the brightness of day or the darkness of night, with no fear save for the most unforeseen and infrequent«ccidents. On the sea, however, a ship can go whichever way she is turned, and other ships may meet her coming from any direction. The broad ocean, then, may be looked upon as covered I with an enormous network of tracks j crossing one another in all directions, j where a ship may be switched from ! one track to another at will. In the daytime ships can be seen from each other, and be turned aside to pass in safety; for not only can they be seen, but the direction in which they are going is known. Still, even in the daytime certain rules must be followed to insure perfect safety. How then, do ships, pursuing so many intersecting tracks, pass the others safely in spite of the darkness of the night? Imagine yourself on the bridge of a big ship. It Is really a bridge, you know, high above the deck t extending from side to side near the bow, and projecting a little beyond the sides so that from each end a man can see straight ahead without rigging or masts to interfere. It is night, and very dark Even the ship is only a long, dark shadow under your feet. Over the sky may be a pall of cloud, and you peer away into the darkness, but cannot even tell where sea and sky come together. All is inky blackness above and below. Spreading outward from the bow of the ship is a foaming, phosphorescent wave, which tells how rapidly she is rushing onward over the unseen waters and into the dangers of the impenetrable gloom. In the middle of the bridge stands a man holding a wheel and gazing at a compass lit up by a little lamp. With that wheel lie turns the rudder to keep the ship steadily pointed in the same direction by the compass. That direction is her track. Other ships may be on that track; other ships may be crossing that track in the darkness. How are they to be avoided?

On each side of the bridge stands a man peering continually into the gloom ahead, while back and forth, almost incessantly, paces a fourth man, an officer, who, like the others, is continually gazing ahead or glancing at the compass. He is the officer of the deck. On him rests the responsibility of avoiding all other vessels which may cross his vessel's track or be approaching her upon it. Upon his quickness and judgment depends the safety of the ship. In the daytime he has seen one, two. or perhaps a dozen ships around him during a single hour, and he well knows that just as many may be around him during any hour of the night. How, then, is he to know where they are, and how to keep out of their way? Their lights will tell. When you face towards the ship’s bow the side at your right hand is called the starboard side, and the side at your left hand is called the port side. On her starboard side a ship carries at night a green light, and it is so shut in by two sides of a box that it cannot be seen from the port side or from behind. . On her port side she carries a red light, and it is so shut in that it cannot be seen from the starboard side or from behind. If the ship is a steamship she carries a big white light at her fore-mast-head, but if she is a sailing vessel she does not. This white masthead light can be seen from all round except from behind. So long then, as the officer of the deck sees no lights, he feels sure that there are no vessels near him, and paces his watch in security.