Vilas County news. [volume] (Eagle River, Vilas County, Wis.) 1896-1927, 1914-08-05

to the sailing hour of a huge
| transatlantic liner an unassum-
ing man carrying a travelling
bag joins the stream Of passen-
gers going up the gangplank. There
Is nothing to distinguish him from the
hundreds of other male travellers, and
you suspect he is an American busi-
ness man going abroad for recreation.
And yet for the space Of two hours
| sometimes 20j this individual guides
the destiny Of the ship and Its human
cargo through the tortuous waters OF
the bay until It reaches the open sea-
He Is pilot for the port Of New York
and there are 119 of him in active
service at the present time. writes
Thornton Fisher In the New York
Tribune.
I was privileged recently to spend
work day with the pilots. It began
at pier 81. North river. where the
steamship New York was waiting for
| the signal that sends her on the voy-
age across the sea. The final blare Of
| the bugle warning visitors ashore was
sounded promptly at the hour Of 10
and gangplanks were released and,
with an almost imperceptible move
| ment, accompanied by a prolonged
blast Of the siren, the big liner left the
| dock and pointed her PROV to the east
ward.
All Very Simple.
| On the bridge before the wheelhouse
stoop Captain Roberts. navigator,
and Pilot Sayles, who had apparently
been one of the throng of passengers
few brief moments before. One of
| the delusions of humankind Is the men,
tai association Of authority at sea
with glitteringly uniformed men who
with ceaseless vigil pace the ships
| deck. However, this keen-eyed, ruddy-
| complexioned man standing at the
captains side, attired in civilian ap-
parel, does not bear visible mark in
| dicative of his calling, unless 1t be
the alert manner with which he scans
the water or searches intently for land
marks on the shore.
Out past Governors island, the
statue of Liberty, slowly by Staten
island and you are in the open. On
one side Of the Jersey Highlands lofty
shores rise, only to recede and disap-
pear from view. In the distance Long
Island is lost where the ocean meets
| the sky. The ship plows cautiously
through the waters, obeying the slight
est command of the pilot on the bridge,
since it would be a comparatively easy
matter to run her nose into the mud.
The navigator, however, knows his
course as an officer knows his beat
1t may be explained that >the pilot
does not operate the steering appa-
ratus of the vessel under his charge.
He communicates by a word or ges-
ture of the hand to the man at the
helm all directions for the course,
which are repeated by the helmsman
in acknowledgment of the order.
STEADY! Steady!" says the pilot
STEADY. sir" responds the man at the
wheel. Port" directs the pilot, and
again comes the echo, Port"
In the meantime. while the navigator
Ia engaged on the bridge, the passen-
gers are busy writing farewell letters
/ or kilograms to be dispatched with
the pilot. Sandy Hook has now been
left behind and the open sea Is ahead.
The pilots work Is finished, at least
temporarily, and the captain grips
him by the hand, wishes him good
luck and orders the speed of the ship
reduced as the navigator prepares to
| depart.
A yawl manned by two sturdy lads
draws alongside the huge vessel. Can
you swim?" inquiries the kindly pilot
Being assured by me in the affirma.
tive, he swings over the side and
descends Jacobs ladder" as the rope
ladder has come to be known amona
the seamen.
Fact and Imagination.
The uninitiated instinctiveIy shud
der as they gaze down the perpendicu
lar depth at the tiny yawl bobbing ur
and down with every wave that strikes
the ship. From the lower deck to the
waterline is perhaps twenty-five feet
varying with the proportions of the
vessel, but venture the assertion
from personal experience that the dis
lance negotiated between the deck
and the yawl was no less than twenty
five hundred feet.
The crew. having lowered the pilots
travelling bag and mail sack. gently