New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1912-05-26
Tank Steamships Are Rep!ac-
ing the Picturesque Square
Rugged Vessels Which Are
Last of Their Kind.

t,.,- the SRA, on the weather bows.
Wbsre The southeast combers break
And the nuttered roar Of the track she ploughs.
Ira the S1Irgle ~ the wake:
Tbs vibrant wall of the windward stays.
And the steady boom Of the breeze
Ava a liners sudden whistle bays
Across the splashing seas.
For tie surf runs strong of Highland Light
And the tide slides over the Rip:
The Nausetts are blinking across the night
And I hear the song of the ship.
II 4 Bellows In The RAn'an.
rHE Standard Oil Company's great
feet of sail vessels is being sold 70
l. German and Norwegian concerns.
Sails are full of poetic suggestion. but
steam IS cheaper in the transportation of
oil to Hong Kong. Under the circum-
stances i, is a little startling that the
Standard oil Company should he willing 10
have even photographs Of these losing
investments framed in their Offices at No
D. Broadway.
Now in port are the sailing ships Arrow,
Radiant, Alcides and Eclipse. All of these
vssels are Of the same type-steel hulls.
with four masts They are probably the
last Of their kind that will ever he built as
the square rugged ship has passed away.
The Arrow tied up at the dock AT 2sth
street. South Brooklyn. is a handsome sight
under any circumstances. but after a ride
on streetcar through that sombre part
Of town its sapolioed poopdeck makes one
positively light hearted. To sit on il and
watch the white caps in Buttermilk Chan
mel is 10 he filed with peace The hearty,
sandy Scotch captain, whose occupation
has just been taken from him after follow
Ing the sea in sailing ships for forty-two
years. sits near by.
One hopes he will speak Of the ship
wrecks he has suffered. He inquiries in
stead as TO the relative chances Of Taft
and Roosevelt.
Reference is made by the landuhber to
the passing Of the era Of the sailing ship.
1t is offered in the hope that the captain
will grow reminiscent and sentimental
Surely if he would he could. with that at
tractive burr Of his. talk most alluringly
Of the moon. sun and stars, as viewed from
the China Sea.
Above the bobbing tugs and the drab
South Brooklyn shore tower the lofty spars
and network of rigging Of the Arrow. The
bowsprit reaches far over the teams and
freight cars at the wharf
The poopdeck is a quiet spot in the busy
world Of shipping. The Arrow is beauti-
ful, but a sad air OF passing prosperity
hangs over her. The times have passed
her by She has experienced the typhoons
OF the tropics, shaved icebergs and slid by
Submerged derelicts in the Atlantic
Asked by a lubber TO talk Of these and
other fascinating things, Captain G. McTvor
instead inquired the reporters opinion of
the works of Ralph Waldo Emerson.
He had just finished packing Emerson IN
his strong box for shore, and then for
Glasgow. The captains wife who mas been
with him at sea for the last seven years
and whom no bad weather can render ir-
disposed, is ready TO return with him to the
old place in Scotland.
After her, Emerson, Mark Twain, Long
fellow. Bret Harte, Ridpath and Prescott
are the captains best friends. Reading is
his hobby.
one persisted, and asked for a few de-
scriptions Of life in a sailboat through fOgs
and heavy seas, of the despair of scorching
Gains the monotony Of not sighting
sail or a smokestack all the way down
the west coast, or until one changed from
winter 10 summer underwear.
The captain shook his head.
Won't you tell Of some Of your expert