"By the lead," replied the captain. "Did you never sound with the lead and line?"

"No, sir," replied Rollo.

"Well, they have a lead, and a long line," rejoined the captain, "and they let the lead down to the bottom by means of the line, and so learn how deep the water is. The lead is round and long. It is about as large round, and about as long, as Jennie's arm, from her elbow to her wrist, and there is a small cavity in the lower end of it."

"What is that for?" asked Rollo.

"That is to bring up some of the sand, or mud, or gravel, or whatever it may be, that forms the bottom," replied the captain. "They put something into the hole, before they let the lead down, to make the sand or gravel stick. When they see the nature of the bottom in this way, it often helps them to determine where they are, in case it is a dark night, or a foggy day, and they have got lost. It is very easy to measure the depth of the sea in this way, where it is not over a few hundred fathoms."

"How much is a fathom?" asked Rollo.

"Six feet," replied the captain; "that is as far as a man can reach by stretching out both hands along a wall. If the water is only a few hundred fathoms deep," continued the captain, "we can sound; but if it is much deeper than that, it is very difficult to get the lead down."

"Why, I should think," said Rollo, "that the lead would go down to the bottom of itself, no matter how deep the water was."

"It would," said the captain, "were it not for the line. But the line has some buoyancy; and, besides, it makes a great deal of friction in being drawn through the water; so that, when the line begins to get very long, it becomes very difficult for the lead to get it down. As they let out the line from the ship, it goes more and more slowly, until at last it does not seem to move at all."

"Then the lead must be on the bottom," said Rollo.

"No, that is not certain," said the captain. "It may be only that the quant.i.ty of line that is out is sufficient to float the lead. Besides that, the currents in the water, which may set in different directions at different depths, carry the line off to one side and the other, so that it lies very crooked in the water, and the weight of the lead is not sufficient to straighten it."

"Then they ought to have a heavier lead, I should think," said Rollo.

"Yes," said the captain; "and for deep-sea soundings they do use very heavy sinkers. Sometimes they use cannon b.a.l.l.s as heavy as a man can lift. Then they take great pains, too, to have a very light and small line. Still, with all these precautions, it is very difficult, after some _miles_ of the line are run out, to tell when the shot reaches the bottom. In some of the deepest places in the sea, the line, when they attempt to sound, is _all day_ running out. I knew one case where they threw the shot overboard in the morning, and the line continued to run out, though slower and slower, of course, all the time, until night. It changed its rate of running so gradually, that at last they could not tell whether it was running or not. It seemed to float idly in the water, sinking slowly all the time; and yet they could not tell whether it was drawn in by the drifting of the portion of the line already down, or by the weight of the shot. So they could not tell certainly whether they had reached bottom or not.

"There is another thing that is curious about it," added the captain; "and that is, that, when a line is let out to such a length, they can never get it back again."

"Why not?" asked Rollo.

"It is not strong enough," said the captain, "to bear the strain of drawing such an immense length out of the water. There is a very considerable degree of friction produced in drawing a line of any kind through the water; and when the line is some miles in length, and has, besides, a heavy ball at the end of it, the resistance becomes enormous.

Whenever they attempt to draw up a sounding line of such a length, it always parts at a distance of a few hundred fathoms from the surface, so that only a small part of the line is ever recovered."

"I should not suppose it would be so hard to draw up the line," said Rollo. "I should have thought that it would come up very easily."

"No," said the captain. "If you draw even a whiplash through the water, you will find that it draws much harder than it does on the gra.s.s; and if a boy's kite were to fall upon a pond at a great distance from the sh.o.r.e, I don't think he could draw it in by the string. The string would break, on account of the friction of the string and of the kite in the water. Sometimes, in naval battles, when a ship is pretending to try to escape, in order to entice another ship to follow her, away from the rest of the fleet, they tow a rope behind, and this rope, dragging in the water, r.e.t.a.r.ds the ship, and prevents her from going very fast, notwithstanding that all the sails are set, and she seems to be sailing as fast as she can."

"That's a curious way of doing it," said Rollo; "isn't it, Jennie?"

Jennie thought that it was a very curious way indeed.

"There is no difficulty," said the captain, resuming his explanations, "in finding the depth of the sea in harbors and bays, or at any place near the sh.o.r.e; for in all such places it is usually much less than a hundred fathoms. So when in a dark night, or in a fog, the ship is driven by the wind in a direction where they know there is land, they sound often; and when they find that the water is shoal enough, they let go the anchor."

"And so the anchor holds them," said Jennie, "I suppose, and keeps them from going against the land."

"Yes," said the captain, "generally, but not always. Sometimes the bottom is of smooth rock, or of some other hard formation, which the flukes of the anchor cannot penetrate, and then the ship drifts on toward the land, dragging the anchor with her."

"And what do they do in that case?" asked Rollo.

"Very often there is nothing that they can do," said the captain, "except to let out more cable, cautiously, so as to give the anchor a better chance to catch in some cleft or crevice in the bottom. Sometimes it does catch in this manner, and then the ship is stopped, and, for a time, the people on board think they are safe."

"And are they safe?" asked Rollo.

"Perhaps so," replied the captain; "and yet there is still some danger.

The anchor may have caught at a place where the cable pa.s.ses over the edge of a sharp rock, which soon cuts it off, in consequence of the motion. Then the ship must go on sh.o.r.e.

"At other times," continued the captain, "the ground for the anchor is too soft, instead of being too hard; and the flukes, therefore, do not take a firm hold of it. Then the anchor will drag. Every sea that strikes the ship drives her a little in toward the sh.o.r.e, and she is, of course, in great danger."

The captain would, perhaps, have gone on still further in his conversation with the children, had it not happened that just at this time, on rising to look out forward, he saw a large ship, under full sail, coming down the channel. So he rose, and went up upon one of the paddle boxes, to see that a proper lookout was kept, to avoid a collision.

The seas which lie between England and Ireland are so wide, and they are so provided with lighthouses and buoys, that no pilot is necessary for the navigation of them; and the pilot boats, therefore, which contain the pilot who is to take the vessel into port, generally await the arrival of the ship off the month of the Mersey, at a place which the steamer reaches about twenty-four hours after making Cape Clear. When the steamer in which Rollo made his voyage arrived at this place, almost all the pa.s.sengers came on deck to witness the operation of taking the pilot on board. There were ships and steamers to be seen on every side, proceeding in different directions--some going across to Ireland, some southwardly out to sea; and there were others, still, which were, like the steamer, bound in to Liverpool. Among these, there was a small vessel at a distance from the steamer, with a certain signal flying.

This signal was to show that this boat was the one which contained the pilot whose turn it was to take the steamer in. The captain gave the proper orders to the helmsman, and the steamer gradually turned from her course, so as to approach the spot where the pilot boat was lying. As she came near, a little skiff was seen at the stern of the pilot boat, with men getting into it. In a moment more, the skiff pushed off and rowed toward the steamer. A sailor stood on a sort of platform abaft the wheel house to throw the men in the skiff a rope when they came near.

The engine was stopped, and the monstrous steampipe commenced blowing off the steam, which, being now no longer employed to work the engine, it would be dangerous to keep pent up. The steam, in issuing from the pipe, produced a dense cloud of smoke and a terrific roaring.

In the mean time, the skiff approached the ship, and the men on board of it caught the rope thrown to them by the sailor on the platform. By this rope they were drawn up to the side of the ship at a place where there was a ladder; and then the pilot, leaving the skiff, clambered up and came on board. The men in the skiff then pushed off and turned to go back toward the pilot boat. The roaring of the steam suddenly ceased, the paddle wheels began again to revolve, and the ship recommenced her motion. The pilot went up upon the paddle box and gave orders to the helmsman how to steer, while the captain came down. His responsibility and care in respect to the navigation of the ship for that voyage was now over.

In fact, the pa.s.sengers began to consider the voyage as ended. They all went to work packing up their trunks, adjusting their dress, changing their caps for hats, and making other preparations for the land.

As the time drew nigh for going on sh.o.r.e, Jennie began to feel some apprehension on the subject, inasmuch as, judging from all the formidable preparations which she saw going on around her, she inferred that landing in Liverpool from an Atlantic steamer must be a very different thing from going on sh.o.r.e at New York after a voyage down the Hudson. As for Rollo, his feelings were quite the reverse from Jennie's. He not only felt no solicitude on the subject, but he began to be quite ambitious of going ash.o.r.e alone--that is, without any one to take charge of him.

"We shall get along, Jennie, very well indeed," said Rollo. "I asked one of the pa.s.sengers about it. The custom-house officers will come and look into our trunks, to see if we have got any smuggled goods in them. They won't find any in ours, I can tell them. Then all I have got to do is, to ask one of the cabmen to take us in his cab, and carry us to a hotel."

"To what hotel?" asked Jennie.

"Why--I don't know," said Rollo, rather puzzled. "To the best hotel.

I'll just tell him to the best hotel."

"Well," said Jennie, "and what then?"

"Well,--and then,"--said Rollo, looking a little perplexed again, and speaking rather doubtingly,--"then,--why, I suppose that father will send somebody there to find us."

Jennie was not convinced; but she had nothing more to say, and so she was silent.

Rollo's plan, however, of taking care of himself in the landing seemed not likely to be realized; for there were not less than three different arrangements made, on the evening of the arrival, for taking care of him. In the first place, his father and mother were at the Adelphi Hotel, in Liverpool, awaiting the arrival of the steamer, and intending to go on board as soon as the guns should announce her coming. In the second place, Mr. Chauncy, Maria's brother, said that they should go with him and Maria. He would take the children, he said, to a hotel, and then take immediate measures to find out where Mr. Holiday was. In the third place, the captain came to Rollo just after sunset, and made a similar proposal.

Rollo, not knowing any thing about his father's plan, accepted Mr.

Chauncy's offer; and then, when the captain came, he thanked him for his kindness, but said that he was going with Mr. Chauncy and Maria.

"Then you will go in the night," said the captain; "for Mr. Chauncy is the bearer of despatches."

Rollo did not understand what the captain meant by this, though it was afterward explained to him. The explanation was this: Every steamer, besides the pa.s.sengers, carries the mails. The mails, containing all the letters and papers that are pa.s.sing between the two countries, are conveyed in a great number of canvas and leather bags, and sometimes in tin boxes; enough, often, to make several cartloads. Besides these mails, which contain the letters of private citizens, the government of the United States has always a bag full of letters and papers which are to be sent to the American minister in London, for his instruction.

These letters and papers are called the government despatches. They are not sent with the mails, but are intrusted usually to some one of the pa.s.sengers--a gentleman known to the government as faithful and trustworthy. This pa.s.senger is called the bearer of despatches.

Now, the steamers, when they arrive at Liverpool, cannot usually go directly up to the pier, because the water is not deep enough there, except at particular states of the tide. They accordingly have to anchor in the stream, at some distance from the sh.o.r.e. As soon as they anchor, whether it is by day or by night, a small steamer comes alongside to get the mails and the despatches; for they must be landed immediately, so as to proceed directly to London by the first train. The bearer of despatches, together with his family, or those whom he has directly under his charge, are, of course, allowed to go on sh.o.r.e in the small steamer with the despatch bag, but the rest of the pa.s.sengers have to wait to have their trunks and baggage examined by the custom-house officers. If the vessel gets to Liverpool in the night, they have to wait until the next morning. This was what the captain meant by saying, that, if the children went on sh.o.r.e with Mr. Chauncy, they would go in the night; for he then expected to get to his anchoring ground so that the boat for the mails would come off to the ship at about half past twelve.

Accordingly, that evening, when bedtime came, Maria and the children did not go to bed, but they lay down upon the couches and in their berths, in their dayclothes, awaiting the summons which they expected to receive when the small steamer should come. In the mean time, the ship went on, sometimes going very slowly, and sometimes stopping altogether, in order to avoid a collision with some other vessel which was coming in her way.

The night was foggy and dark, so that her progress, to be safe, was necessarily slow. At length, Maria and the children, tired of waiting and watching, all three fell asleep. They were, however, suddenly aroused from their slumbers about midnight by the chambermaid, who came into their state room and told them that Mr. Chauncy was ready.

They rose and hurried up on deck. Their trunks had been taken up before them. When they reached the deck, they found Mr. Chauncy there and the captain, and with them two or three rather rough-looking men, in s.h.a.ggy coats, examining their trunks by the light of lanterns which they held in their hands. The examination was very slight. The men merely lifted up the things in the corners a little, and, finding that there appeared to be nothing but clothing in the trunks, they said, "All right!" and then shut them up again. All this time the steampipe of the little steamer alongside kept up such a deafening roar that it was almost impossible to hear what was said.