Cruise VII report

[Reprinted from Land and Ocean Magnetic Observations, 1927-1944. By W. F. Wallis and J. W. Green. Carnegie Institution of Washington Publication 175, vol. 8 (1947). Pages 230-234]



Atlantic Ocean

The seventh cruise of the Carnegie began when the vessel left her wharf at Washington, under tow, at 09h May 1, 1928. Shortly after midnight on May 2 she came to anchor at the mouth of the St. Mary's River to await sunrise for beginning the swings in the lower reaches of the Potomac River. The day broke fair. Six swings under her own engine were made to detect any deviations in declination or horizontal intensity. Simultaneous observations were made ashore by the Department's field-parties, which had established numerous magnetic stations on both the Maryland and Virginia sides of the Potomac around the position previously selected for the swings. The vessel returned to same anchorage in the evening of May 2. On May 5 the Carnegie was swung again under her own engine in the morning to detect any deviations in dip and intensity, and then returned to anchorage. Simultaneous shore, observations were made during all swings and comparisons. At 20h 30m anchor was weighed, and the Carnegie proceeded to Newport News, where she arrived at 08h May 6 for docking and adjusting the oscillator of the deep-sea sounding apparatus.

Leaving dry-dock at 11h May 10, the Carnegie was towed out into Hampton Roads and late in the afternoon cast off the tug and set sail while still in the entrance of Chesapeake Bay, taking a departure from Cape Henry at 18h 20m.

Newport News, Virginia, to Plymouth, England, May 10 to June 8, 1928.--Weather conditions were rather unfavorable throughout the entire time--strong winds, heavy seas, and cold and rainy weather. The course as planned was followed fairly well for the first two weeks, but during the last two weeks head-winds and baffling winds were experienced. The vessel was held off the entrance to the English Channel for ten days by easterly and southeasterly winds and gales.

After the ten days' delay with head-winds, the vessel was within a few hours' sail of picking up the first landfall at Bishop Rock, Scilly Islands. Then it began to rain, fog and mist closed in, and it was necessary to stand off to sea again. After several hours, it cleared up enough to head for the light, which was picked up at midnight. A fine fair wind then held to within ten miles of Plymouth, when it began to rain, mist and fog set in, the wind hauled ahead, and the Captain was on the point of heading back to sea again, when the headland was sighted two miles west of Plymouth Harbor. Orders were given then to take in squaresails, the engine was started, and the ship beat its way to port against a rising gale, with only one hour of daylight remaining.

Declination (D) observations with marine collimating-compass were made at 29 stations, and horizontal intensity (H) with deflector and inclination (I) with earth inductor at 12 stations. All magnetic instruments worked well. The maximum range in the inclination for a single station did not exceed 30' as determined with earth inductor 7, using improved gimbal-ring mounting (not gyro) and microammeter without amplification. At all but three stations experimental determinations of H were made with the same method; vertical intensity (Z) was determined also at a number of stations.

Plymouth, England, to Hamburg, Germany, June 18 to 22, 1928.--The Carnegie left Plymouth at 16h 30m, June 18, being towed 15 miles off shore until sails were set, and with a fair wind, proceeded up the channel all night. The engine was operated the next day because of light winds and calm. During the night of June 19, the Carnegie passed through Dover Strait with favorable wind and tide; fortunately there was no fog, and conditions were excellent. Soon after leaving the Strait, the wind hauled ahead, however, and it was necessary to operate the engine practically continuously through the North Sea.

After making successful landfalls along the Dutch and German coasts approaching the Elbe River, and when within three hours' sail of the mouth of the river, fog and mist and rain set in, making it impossible to sight the two lightships which point the way to the mouth of the Elbe. By keeping on and watching for the traffic route as indicated by glimpses of steamers passing to southward in the mist, the ship gradually headed up against the strong flood-tide and finally made out the pilot-vessel during a temporary lifting of the fog. The engine again proved its value and assistance, taking the vessel up the river against head-winds and calms, until the tugboat was met (ordered from Hamburg the previous night) while passing Borkum Riff lightship.

Magnetic declination, inclination, and horizontal intensity were determined at two sea-stations between Plymouth and the mouth of the Elbe River.

Hamburg, Germany, to Reykjavik, Iceland, July 7 to 20, 1928.--The Carnegie left the gasoline wharf at Hamburg, Germany, about noon on July 7 under tow. When the mouth of the Elbe River was reached a strong head-wind was blowing, so it was necessary to retain the tug-boat for a tow of 20 miles to sea to insure getting off shore safely. At 08h 30m, July 8, the engine was started and the tow-line was cast off. By midnight it was possible to set the squaresails, so the engine was stopped and the vessel proceeded on course through the North Sea, making good progress on July 9, 10, and 11. The Shetland Islands were sighted on the afternoon of July 11 and the Faroes on the afternoon of July 12, both groups being passed to the northward.

Prevailing southwest winds prevented making the southward loop as planned between Iceland and the Faroes, and the Carnegie stood off to the northwest to cross the track of 1914 near the southeast corner of Iceland. This track was reached July 14, and then for six days head-winds were met as the vessel fought her way westward along the south coast of Iceland. The engine again proved its value, and was operated with the fore-and-aft sails as often as conditions were favorable for a total of 76 hours during six days. Without the engine it would not have been possible to make Reykjavik, and at one time it was seriously considered to proceed to St. John's, Newfoundland, omitting Iceland. As the wind shifted only between northwest and southwest, it was necessary to tack or wear ship 11 times. Usually when trying to make a headland or to pass a definite and necessary point, the weather was bad and visibility was obscured by mist and rain, making navigation difficult and exacting and entailing some risk. The anchorage at Reykjavik was reached at 08h 30m, July 20, the harbor being entered in the midst of rain squalls and low-hanging mist and fog.

The magnetic work at sea was carried out as planned, enough clear weather being present to secure good series of declination-observations at 11 stations, and of horizontal-intensity and inclination-observations at six stations.

Reykjavik, Iceland to Barbados, West Indies, July 27 to September 17, 1928.--The Carnegie left Reykjavik at noon on July 27, 1928, going out under her own power against a head-wind. By 14h the entrance point of the bay was cleared. Heading down toward Cape Farewell, good progress was made for the first four days. On July 31 the winds became unfavorable, and on the next day they went calm and it was necessary to operate the engine. By August 3 the wind had sprung up from the northeast and was blowing a strong breeze. When opposite Cape Farewell, course was set toward Newfoundland, omitting the loop toward Baffin Bay in order to gain on the schedule.

For over two weeks the vessel made her way southward, averaging about 140 miles per day, and entered the Gulf Stream on August 8, to be greeted with much warmer weather. On August 10 a gale blew from the southwest for a few hours, otherwise the period up to August 23 was marked by fine weather and moderate breezes.

On August 23 the region of light winds and calms, at latitude [16 degrees] north, was entered. For 12 days the average run was only 65 miles daily, with 97 miles as a maximum.

On August 31 in [8 degrees] north latitude because of delay through calms it was decided to change course for Barbados. Light air and calms continued until September 10, when a moderate gale blew from the southwest, the wind having changed from northeast to northwest back to north by east, then back again through northwest to southwest. This was undoubtedly the effect of the hurricane which three days later was centered over the Mona Island Passage which wrought such serious damage throughout the West Indies.

The Island of Barbados was sighted late in the afternoon of September 16. After remaining hove to off the south point of the island nearly all night, anchorage was made in Carlisle Bay at 08h 30m on the morning of September 17, only three days behind scheduled date of arriving there.

The results obtained from Reykjavik to Barbados included 77 declinations, and 25 values of both inclination and horizontal intensity.

Barbados, West Indies, to Balboa, Canal Zone, October 1 to 11, 1928.--Leaving the Bridgetown mooring buoy at llh 30m, October 1, 1928, under her own power, the Carnegie headed up northwest to sight Martinique for a fine view of this mountainous island the next day, Mont Pelee showing up clear except for a cloud-bank at the top. For one brief moment the mist lifted enough to see the jagged peaks at the top of the cone against the white cloud-background. After squaring away for Colon at noon October 2, fine weather, with occasional squalls with heavy rain and lightning and thunder, prevailed to within 24 hours' sail of Colon. One squall took the vessel at 11 knots for two hours. The last 24 hours were made under power, calms, and head-winds. Anchorage in Limon Bay was made at 04h on the morning of October 11. Proceeding through the Canal October 11, the vessel docked successfully in the dark upon arrival at Balboa after 19h.

Fifteen declination, five inclination, and five horizontal-intensity stations were occupied. 


Pacific Ocean

Balboa, Canal Zone, to Easter Island to Callao, Peru, October 25, 1928 to January 14, 1929.--Leaving Balboa at noon October 25, the Carnegie had over 24 hours of fair wind before facing two weeks of head-winds, heavy-rains, squally weather, tacking back and forth, and running the engine in an attempt to get away from the Gulf of Panama. The course stood southward for five days, then northwest for three days, with no change of wind. This made it apparent that the engine and fore-and-aft sails would have to be used on a long tack to the south in an effort to win past the coast of Ecuador, south of the Equator, into the region of the southeast trade-winds before way westward could be made. So the route was changed to go south of the Galapagos Islands instead of north. Malpelo Island was sighted on the tack to the north and was again passed near-by on the long tack to the southward. This island is an isolated, barren rock, one mile long and 846 feet high. There was more rain during these first two weeks than during all the preceding five months of Cruise VII. The engine operated well except for two days' delay due to a burnt-out bearing in one connecting rod. Before clearing the coast and getting a favorable change of wind for sailing the gasoline supply became very low, account being taken of requirements for the three months before a new supply could be obtained. With the shift of wind November 8 from southwest to south, the engine could be shut down, the vessel proceeding westward under sail.

Although now in the region of the Equator, the temperature of the air was anything but tropical, ranging from [20 degrees] C to [24 degrees] C. The following three months were featured by excellent weather, light winds, cool temperature, very little rain or fog, and only one gale which continued for six hours. The temperature never exceeded [24 degrees] C and was as low as [15 degrees] for only one or two days while the vessel was in the region of [40 degrees] south latitude.

Although the Carnegie passed close to the south side of the various islands in the Galapagos group, no stop was made because of the delay in leaving the Gulf of Panama. In order to make up for some of this delay the loop to Easter Island was shortened by about ten days, with no appreciable loss in the scientific data secured since it was possible to follow previous tracks on the revised loop.

The magnetic program was carried out regularly, the good weather and moderate sea giving excellent results.

On December 6 Easter Island was reached and six days were spent at anchor in the open roadstead of Cook Bay. For 13 hours during this period continuous observations were made of the magnetic elements on shore. On December 12 all work had been completed, the equipment was all on board, and plans for a farewell feast with the natives on shore had been made when the manila anchor-cable parted, causing the loss of the heavy starboard anchor; the rope had worn through on the hard-coral sandy bottom, the wind being fairly strong all the time. This happened about lOh fortunately when all were on board and in daylight. The lighter port anchor was let go at once but it dragged. Rather than risk the vessel in such close proximity to the rocks without sufficient anchors it was decided to sail and word was sent ashore to send out the supply of fresh meat. In the meantime the vessel stood out to sea and back again under easy sail and engine-power. By three o'clock in the afternoon, after all arrangements had been completed and supplies had been brought on board, sail was set for Callao, Peru.

After leaving Easter Island the Carnegie was driven 300 miles out of her course to the south by continuous head-winds. The vessel reached [40.5 degrees] south latitude before it was possible to head up on the course, entering the southeast trade-wind region on January 5. Steady progress was then made until reaching Callao on January 14.

The last five days of the cruise were featured by unusually cloudy weather, so that the program of declination-observations twice daily was not possible. The temperature of the surface-water dropped from [21.5 degree] to [19 degrees] C, when the vessel was 75 miles southwest of Callao, and remained at [19 degrees] until arrival. The drop was sudden indicating entry into the cold Humboldt or Peruvian Current which flows northward as far as Ecuador.

The vessel's position was determined by star-sights early in the morning of January 14 on Regal and Arcturus, seen for brief moments through rapidly moving clouds. Course was then set for the north end of San Lorenzo Island, off Callao, and for over 50 miles this course was not changed, bringing the vessel to within one mile of the desired point at two o'clock in the afternoon. The Carnegie then proceeded under engine-power and was anchored in Callao Harbor a few hours later.

During the portion of the cruise from Balboa to Callao 96 declination, 34 inclination and horizontal-intensity observations were made.

Callao, Peru, to Papeete, Tahiti, February 5 to March 13, 1929.--The Carnegie sailed from Callao Bay under her own power at 15h 20m, February 5, using the engine until the next morning on account of calm. Here the regular observational program began and continued without interruption, except for a stop of one day at Amanu Island, until arrival at Papeete, March 13. The weather was excellent, with no storms and good breezes. The engine was not required except when the trade-wind was interrupted among the Tuamotu Islands and during the squally weather approaching Tahiti.

The magnetic work was carried out as usual. Experiments to determine horizontal intensity with the earth inductor were continued. Different coils were used, and some encouragement was given for ultimate success by the improved agreement of results with those of deflector 5. During the passage from Callao to Papeete observations were obtained as follows: 63 declination-stations, 17 inclination and horizontal-intensity stations.

Tahiti to Pago Pago and Apia, Samoa, March 20 to April 6, 1929.--The Carnegie left Papeete at 15h 35m on March 20 under her own power, heading to the northward of Moorea. The next day the wind hauled ahead and the ship was obliged to proceed southward of Huaheine and Raiatea Islands. Soundings showed new shoals south of this group, as also south of Mapehaa Island, farther to the westward. Before the western islands of the Society Group were cleared, it was necessary to use the engine on several occasions on account of light and variable winds. The engine was operated also for three days continuously before arriving at Pago Pago on April 1 at 19h 30m. The easterly trade-wind was entered March 24, and this breeze continued until March 28. The usual program of work was carried out daily.

The following observations were made: 20 declination, 6 inclination and intensity stations.

After taking on gasoline, oil, and kerosene at Pago Pago, the Carnegie left for Apia April 5, arriving the next morning, going the entire distance under engine-power.

Apia to Guam and to Yokohama, April 20 to June 7, 1929.--After completing the work of intercomparing magnetic instruments with those of the Apia Observatory and standardizing deflector 5, the ship sailed from Apia April 20 en route for Guam and proceeded northward toward the Union Islands, with light and variable winds. When only 65 miles from Apia, two stowaways came on deck out of the forepeak. It was decided to return to Apia and land the boys back home to avoid later trouble and expense, since there was no place for them on board.

Soon after leaving Apia the second time, the wind became favorable and the engine was stopped. During the following week the winds were variable and calms were frequent until April 28, when the northeast trade-wind began. This breeze continued without interruption until Guam was reached May 20. The regular daily program was carried out in spite of frequent rain-squalls, which, however, were usually of short duration. The date May 6 was omitted due to crossing the 180th meridian of longitude.

Wake Island was sighted early on May 11, and passed within one-quarter mile of Peacock Point, the southeast point of the Island. Observations checked the position given for the island by the U.S.S. Tananger Expedition of 1923. The highest point is only 21 feet above sea-level; there are no cocoanut trees, only low-spreading umbrella trees and shrubs. Numerous birds were flying about. No signs of life or of buildings were seen. Glimpses of the beautiful green-blue lagoon seen through the break in the south side showed a considerable area free from obstructions, which might make a suitable harbor.

Rota and Guam islands were sighted on May 19, and the vessel was safely moored in Port Apra early on May 20.

Between Apia and Guam the following observations were made: 48 declination, 13 inclination and horizontal intensity stations.

The magnetic station at Sumay was reoccupied. The stay was all too brief but was much enjoyed through the very generous hospitality which was extended by Governor and Mrs. Shapley, and the Navy and Marine personnel, as also by Superintendent Mullahey of the Cable Station.

After taking on fresh water and gasoline, sail was set for Yokohama on May 25, keeping the easterly trade-wind for four days and making good daily runs. The wind then shifted to the south and varied between southeast and southwest until June 2. The positions of a typhoon were received on the night of June 1 by radio from the Manila Observatory through amateur station K1AF for the two preceding days. The wind had been increasing in force all afternoon and the sea was becoming heavier. These positions were plotted on the chart and the path predicted which the storm-center would follow. By rough estimation of its rate of travel, it seemed due to intercept the Carnegie's track within a few hours. The barometer had dropped four millimeters during the preceding eight hours and it seemed wise to head east by south and place the vessel in a safer position, to avoid the path of the storm. After running eastward for two hours, the barometer began to rise and the wind moderated so the vessel was hove to while waiting for wind and sea to moderate further. After another wait for two hours, course was again set toward the northwest, the vessel riding on the tail of the typhoon. The wind continued to shift to the right, showing that the storm had passed on to the east- ward. This was the first experience in handling a storm by radio, and everything worked out like clockwork and exactly as predicted from information received within the hour by radio.

There followed four days of rough sea, contrary winds, and engine running. When within fifteen miles of the entrance to Tokio Bay, on Wednesday night, June 5, a rapidly falling barometer and rainy threatening weather made it necessary to heave the vessel to in order to judge the nature of the storm and to see the headland. After waiting two hours, conditions became worse and it was decided to get off shore to increase the margin of safety. After running the engine five hours, the wind and sea had risen to such an extent that it was necessary to heave the vessel to and ride out the typhoon when about 20 miles off shore and apparently near the center of the oncoming typhoon. About noon, the barometer appeared to reach its lowest point and became steady. The wind began to moderate and back from south toward west, the storm-center apparently having passed to the west and north. Two sails were lost and several minor accidents happened on deck, but the vessel rode through the heavy seas in good order. By early Friday morning the sea had moderated and the wind shifted to northeast. Sail was set and by 11h Tokio Bay was entered, the vessel going up to Yokohama under engine-power and arriving at 19h 45m. The Thursday radio report from Manila gave the typhoon-center a position ten miles north of the vessel on Thursday noon.

The following observations were made while en route from Guam to Yokohama: 21 declination, 6 inclination and horizontal-intensity stations.

Yokohama, Japan, to San Francisco, California, June 24 to July 28, 1929.--After leaving Yokohama June 24, the first 10 days were featured by light variable winds and calms. The engine was operated frequently and the average day's run was about 90 miles. Advantage was taken of a smooth, calm sea on June 27 and 28 to swing the vessel for deviations. One helm for declination- observations was made on June 27 before the clouds covered the Sun; all the next day was spent in making a swing with both helms for inclination and horizontal intensity.

About July 4 the region of cold surface-water was entered with practically 100 per cent clouds, mist, fog, drizzle, and rain, which continued until July 20. The wind was somewhat stronger, but not favorable. Adverse winds during July 9 to 12 drove the vessel 300 miles to the southward of the proposed track and the weather was so cold that the copper stove was used in the cabin from July 5 to 26. On July 14 the wind freshened from the southwest and for 20 days the average daily run was about 200 miles. Better weather was met between July 22 and 29, the wind still continuing fair and strong.

During the cloudy, foggy weather the program for declination was sadly interrupted. No observations could be obtained on July 6, 7, 12, 13, 14(I), and 19. On some of the other days, the observations were made with the Sun at such high altitudes and with such rough seas that the accuracy was seriously impaired. The alternation of ocean-stations with magnetic stations was maintained throughout the trip, except that July 14 (II) and 15 were interchanged, on account of strong wind and rough sea.

The following observations were made during the period June 24 to July 29: 40 declinations, 18 inclinations and horizontal intensities.

San Francisco to Honolulu, Territory of Hawaii, September 3 to 23, 1929.--The entire trip of 20 days was featured by light airs and calms, with only a few days of regular trade-wind, the northeast trade-wind not appearing until September 17. The extremes in daily run were 66 to 177, average being 108.8 miles. The engine was used frequently. The vessel arrived at Honolulu at noon, Monday, September 23, after an unusually quiet approach the previous night. The passage from San Francisco covered 2,186 miles.

The regular program of observation was carried out and included 10 ocean-stations, 9 stations for dip and intensity, 27 stations for declination.

Honolulu to Pago Pago, October 2 to November 18, 1929.--Leaving Honolulu, October 2, under tow, sail was set in a fair wind when three miles off the entrance to the harbor. For five days winds were fairly strong and favorable, from the east and northeast. On October 7 the trade-wind went light and on the eighth it shifted to the southwest. The wind continued from the westward until October 18, when it shifted to the east and with only slight interruptions remained in that quarter until Pago Pago was reached.

More calm days were experienced than usual, the engine being used for a total of about 260 hours. It performed well and saved many days' delay. No storms were encountered, although many days were rainy and squally. The last four days before reaching Pago Pago were calm and the engine was operating. Fortunately, there was sufficient gasoline remaining to reach Pago Pago without delay. The ship docked on November 18, after 47.5 days at sea. The distance logged was 5,777 miles, giving 121.6 miles as the average run per day.

The usual program of magnetic work was carried out without interruption. The track as outlined was followed closely with two exceptions, where the wind was unfavorable. During the 48 days at sea, 73 declination, 23 magnetic, and 23 ocean-stations were occupied.


[Reprinted from The Work of the Carnegie and Suggestions for Future Scientific Cruises. Carnegie Institution of Washington Publication 571 (1945). Pages 37-42] Narrative of the cruise by J. Harland Paul.


CRUISE VII, 1928-1929.

On May 1, 1928, the seventh cruise of the Carnegie began. Whistles roared from the harbor craft, and pleasure boats jockeyed for position to escort us down the Potomac. At midnight we reached the mouth of the St. Mary's River in Chesapeake Bay, and anchored till dawn. We were to spend four busy days here, "swinging ship," to be sure that our magnetic instruments and standard compass were not influenced by the new oceanographic equipment. A magnetic station had been set up on shore where simultaneous magnetic observations were made. To ensure ideal conditions for the land station, a magnetic survey of both sides of Chesapeake Bay had been completed a few days previously. Six "swings" of the ship on different headings were made, before everyone was satisfied that all was well.

The radio outfit was given its first trials here. Schedules were made with the Naval Research Laboratory and with headquarters of the American Radio Relay League. And throughout these four days, the atmospheric-electric instruments were being compared with similar ones ashore whose accuracy was well known.

The days spent here in the St. Mary's River had given the new observers an opportunity to become acquainted with their new duties. They now knew what a long day's work was involved in swinging ship, a procedure we were to repeat in many parts of the world. They learned the technique of intercomparison of instruments with those ashore, for in most of the ports of call this was to occupy a large part of their time -- especially where there were permanent observatories like those in Germany, Peru, Samoa, and Japan.

At dusk on May 5, all hands were summoned to heave up the anchor for the short trip to Hampton Roads -- our first passage under sail. A stiff, steady breeze from astern bowled us along in grand style. Although we were not carrying full sail, we had the rare satisfaction of overtaking several steam vessels.

We were anchored off Newport News by eight o'clock next morning, and were greeted at once by "bum boats," little launches which were to be our inseparable companions in every port. They offered laundry service, taxis, provisions -- everything we needed, and some things we did not.

Everyone was impatient to put to sea, so it was a great disappointment that we were forced to go into dry-dock here. The oscillator of the sonic depth finder required some changes, and Mr. Russell of the Navy Yard in Washington had come personally to supervise the work.

On May 10 we were towed out into the Roads, and set sails, while photographers on the tug made pictures. The breeze was just sufficient to give us steerage way. We had cast off our last ties with shore, and were at last headed for the open sea. Our last sight of land was Cape Henry at sunset.

It was a real relief to settle down to our ocean routine. The hectic past months gave place to as simple a life as possible. Meal hours were so arranged that in spite of their various duties, the staff could eat together. The radio operator and atmospheric-electric observers occasionally kept irregular schedules which made this not always possible. The watch officers and the engineer had their mess in the wardroom forward; and the forecastle was served from the same galley. The deck force was separated into two watches, as is usual on a sailing ship; the men spending four hours on and four off, with two "dogwatches" of two hours each between four and eight in the evening.

Our first morning out, May 11, was chosen for the first magnetic station. The ship was now fifty miles off the coast and away from local disturbances ashore. At sunrise the officer on watch calls the observers to the bridge for the declination observation. When they are assembled the ship's course is changed, if necessary to keep the foresail from hiding the sun. Captain Ault and Torreson make readings of the marine collimating compass; Erickson measures altitudes of the sun with his sextant; and Scott enters each reading on special forms, with a time record for each observation. From measurements we could tell how much the "variation" of the compass had changed since former cruises.

After breakfast is over, and when time sights on the sun have been made for longitude, the observers take their places at the magnetic instruments in the domes. Soule stands at the earth inductor; Torreson sits in the control room on the quarter-deck; and Paul reads aloud the heading of the ship from the standard compass in the chart room. This allows Soule to keep the rotating coil properly oriented. As Soule places the coil in various positions, Torreson reads the ammeter or potentiometer in the control room. From here he also starts and stops the constant-speed motor which rotates the coil. These observers determine the "dip" or inclination of the earth's magnetic field.

Meanwhile, Scott is in the after dome at the deflector. He places magnets of known strength near his compass and reads off their effect on it. Jones makes simultaneous readings of the standard compass in the chart room, and records for Scott. These two men measure the strength of the earth's magnetic field.

The afternoon is occupied in calculating the values for the magnetic elements. The observers were furnished special forms for recording, and these were so printed as to make the necessary tabulations as simple as possible. The formulae used in computing appeared in these, together with space for entering data derived from tables. By using these sheets it was practically impossible to overlook essential control records, such as air temperatures and chronometer readings. It is very easy to make these omissions when the observer's attention is directed primarily to the operation of the instrument itself.

For some of us the time-keeping on board was quite confusing at first. The ship's routine was operated on Local Apparent Time, with a resetting of clocks every morning at eleven. Many records were kept on Local Mean Time, others in Greenwich Mean Time. Then there was 75th Meridian Time for certain radio schedules, while a Sidereal-Time chronometer later became part of our equipment for gravity observations. In addition, for the most accurate time-signal comparisons, an "offset chronometer" was added, that loses one second in sixty-five of mean time.

After the evening time sight and the declination observation, we noticed a change in the color of the sea. It lost its grayish-green tint and became clear blue. The sea-water thermograph had shown great variations in temperature for several hours, and now read [75 degrees] Fahrenheit. At noon it had been only [46 degrees]. We were in the Gulf Stream.

The ship had been supplied with a solarimeter, for measuring the quantity of radiation reaching the earth from the sun. We gave it a first trial on May 13, but it was apparent at once that conditions would not be favorable for using it on a sailing ship. The effects of rolling and pitching were minimized by mounting in gimbals the sensitive photoelectric cell; but the greatest difficulty was shade cast by the rigging, and back reflection from the lofty sails. After a few more trials it was found impracticable. The information it gives is used in studies of world weather. It would have made an excellent adjunct to our meteorological program, for we were concerned with heat-transfers between sea and air, and with evaporation rates in various regions.

While we had been anchored in St. Mary's River, a gyroscopic stabilizer had been installed on the earth inductor. It was hoped that this device, in addition to the gimbal mountings, might make the coil more independent of the ship's motion than the gimbals alone. But all attempts to use it had failed, because the strain when the constant-speed motor was started or stopped was too severe on the shafting. Several changes in design would be necessary before it could have been employed, and after a few more trials it was discarded for the time being.

It was always a rule on the Carnegie to analyze and put in form the scientific data collected on each leg of the cruise, for the immediate use of hydrographers and oceanographic workers ashore. This feature of our routine kept the observers occupied between observing periods at sea and for several days after reaching port.

For example, tables were drawn up showing the values of declination, horizontal intensity, and inclination, as given by the latest British, German, and American charts for the regions traversed by the ship. Against these we tabulated the measurements made on the voyage, so that errors in the charts might be corrected in future editions. Differences of as much as [1.5 degrees] in declination were discovered on the passage from Newport News, with corresponding errors in the other elements. This serves to emphasize the importance of repeated surveys of the earth's magnetism, to determine the changes constantly taking place in the distribution of this mysterious natural force.

By early September our procedure at an oceanographic station had become somewhat standardized, and it might be of interest to describe just what takes place. On the morning of September 15, we are about two hundred miles from Barbados. At eight bells the new watch comes on deck and finds everything in readiness for heaving to. The winch is uncovered, the wires are threaded through blocks to the davits, outboard-platforms are in place, and running gear is laid out on deck ready for shortening sail. With the sound of the ship's bell still in our ears, the men dash to the tackle, blocks rattle and yards creak as the squaresails are taken in. The lower topsail alone is not furled, and is set aback to check our headway. Then one after another the foreand-aft sails come down until only the mainsail and middle staysail remain. The ship is now hove to and comes up into the wind or falls off alternately with the helm alee.

The oceanographic team consists of four members of the scientific staff (Captain Ault, Soule, Seiwell, and Paul), the mate (Erickson), the engineer (Leyer), and the watch officer with his four seamen. Practically all operations take place on the quarter-deck. Mr. Erickson immediately attaches the bottom sampler to the piano wire, drops it over the stern, and signals to Leyer to pay out on the winch. Meanwhile Captain Ault and Soule are attaching the Nansen bottles, with their reversing thermometers to the aluminum-bronze wire. As these bottles are lowered one after the other in a long series, Paul reads the meter wheel. When the desired length of wire has been paid out he signals to Leyer to apply the brake. Another bottle is attached, more wire is paid out. This goes on till some eight or ten bottles are strung on at intervals of from five to five hundred meters.

At this station we are to reach down five thousand meters, so it will be necessary to send down two bottle series. The first, or "short series" will consist of nine bottles lowered to 5, 25, 50,. 75, 100, 200, 300, 400, and 500 meters respectively, while one bottle is reversed at the surface. As the greatest difference in temperature and chemical salts occurs near the surface, the intervals are fairly short there. But in the '"deep series," which is sent down later, the bottles are spaced 500 meters apart. The strain on the wire would be far too great were we to lower twenty bottles at once.

During this time Seiwell has put out the plankton nets. These are lowered in series, much as the bottles, but only three are used; one goes to 100 meters, another to 50 meters, and the third to the surface. Microscopic life in the sea is chiefly concentrated near the surface because sunlight does not penetrate water very far. All animals depend on plants for food, directly or indirectly, and of course it is sunlight which is utilized as a source of energy by plants such as diatoms.

Ten minutes are allowed for the lowered Nansen bottles to take up the temperature of their surroundings. Captain Ault now slides a brass "messenger" down the wire to reverse the first bottle in the series. As each bottle tips over, its own messenger is freed to proceed to the next bottle, and so on down the line. It takes from ten to forty minutes for the messenger to reach the lowest bottle. When they are inverted in this way, the valves automatically imprison a sample of water from the desired depth. Also, the mercury capillary of the thermometer separates in such a way that the temperature of that level can be read off on deck, no matter what temperatures are encountered on the way to the surface.

It is not possible to raise the bottle series until the bottom sampler has struck. With depths like five thousand meters this may take an hour. When the signal is given that the piano wire is slack, Leyer ceases to pay out, Erickson reads the meter wheel, and Captain Ault measures the vertical angle made by the wire. From these readings the depth can be calculated. Soule has meanwhile made an echo sounding to check this value. The winch then brings up the bottle series and bottom snapper together. The bottles are removed from the wire and placed in sheltered racks. Paul collects water samples for chemical analysis, and Soule takes specimens for salinity determinations. When this is done, the deep-sea thermometers are read and the Nansen bottles prepared for their second plunge--this time to greater depths.

While all this is going on, Seiwell or Paul has put the plankton pump into operation. This apparatus is lowered three times, to levels corresponding to the depth of the townets. A measured volume of sea water passes through a fine silk net. The number of organisms captured, divided by the number of liters of water pumped, gives the "density of population" at each level. The plankton nets are hauled in after an hour or so. The specimens collected are preserved and labelled [sic] for future study.

It now remains to bring up the deep series and collect the sediment from the bottom sampler. This done, the sails are once more set and we proceed on our way. If everything has gone well there is still an hour before lunch in which to start the chemical work. The delicate hydrogen-ion tests are made first, to avoid the possibility of changes in the samples from contamination by the air or by sunlight. The other chemical characteristics are determined after lunch, along with the salinity.

These mornings are strenuous. There are many operations going on at once. Wires lead in all directions from the winch. The sun glares on the water, making it necessary to wear dark glasses. And only careful coordination saves us from utter confusion. Each man has his appointed tasks, but is always ready to lend a hand should things go wrong for the other fellow. And it was a rare day when something did not go awry. Wires might foul below the ship. Messengers might fail to reverse the bottles; or a "jellyfish" get in the way. The piano wire might snap, or the plankton pump fail to operate. Anything might happen, without warning, to upset the regular order.

In Barbados we found ideal conditions for trying out our diving helmet, and we made two expeditions to the reefs. For several of the men it was an entirely new experience. Only a poet could imagine the beauty and romance to be found under the waters of a coral reef. And certainly only a poet could describe what we saw in this fairyland of color and form. The dinghy is anchored at the selected spot, preferably in 15 to 30 feet of water, and the observer climbs over the side with a heavy copper helmet resting on his shoulders. A hose connected to a hand pump in the boat keeps him comfortably supplied with air, and he can wander about at will on the bottom.

One is in a new universe. Everything has a soft, ethereal outline except for the fishes that come to within an inch of the observers' nose to gaze at him in wonder through the plate-glass window. They are the most brilliantly colored of living creatures. One's sense of perspective seems to have been lost. Put out your hand to brace yourself on a coral head, and you find it far out of reach. Walking itself seems ridiculous; for in the water one's buoyancy is so great that the slightest spring upwards on the toes takes one off the bottom for a slow easy flight through space. Gravity has ceased to exist. Captain Ault described what he saw in a letter from which the following words are taken: ". . . schools of marvellously colored fish . . . forest of submarine trees waving in the water-surges . . . baskets of shell . . . jewelcases of coral growth . . . grottoes of blue and sapphire . . . trees of growing coral with jewel tips . . . bristling, black-spined sea-urchins . . . a basket made of cocoanut palm leaves gathered together at the top, perhaps full of treasure left by pirates . . . a wonder-world not reproduced elsewhere, not even in an aquarium."

Specimens were collected by the observers. A long screw driver and a heavy brass bucket were lowered on a rope, and on a signal from below the material was hauled up to the dinghy. Although the coral sand did not promise to be very rich in diatoms, we secured several bottles full for forwarding to Washington.

In the Pacific, after October 1928, the weather was perfect for pilot-balloon flights. The new equipment, supplied by the United States Navy, worked well and observations were made daily. With strong winds we were able to follow the balloon for only fifteen to twenty minutes, but sometimes it would be visible for an hour. By tying two together we could often follow them long after a single one would have been lost to view. In this way we traced the direction and force of the wind in the atmosphere up to heights of from two to six miles.

Three men take part in a balloon flight--usually Captain Ault, Torreson, and Scott. A pure balloon is inflated with hydrogen from a tank, until it is about three feet in diameter. By "weighing" it we are able to calculate its rate of ascension. The scales operate upside down, of course, for the balloon pulls the pan upwards. At a signal from Scott, the recorder, the glistening globe is released. At one-minute intervals Torreson reads the azimuth, or horizontal position of the balloon with respect to the ship's heading; and Captain Ault checks the altitude by using an ordinary sextant. It was possible, of course, for Torreson to read off both altitude and azimuth from his theodolite; but the rolling of the ship often caused him to lose track of the object, while it was still clearly visible to the sextant observer. By reading the altitude from the sextant, it was possible for Torreson to sweep the sky at that level until he had again picked up the elusive sphere.

As a result of a multitude of observations on wind and weather conditions at sea, we have today fairly accurate "pilot charts" of the ocean, for the use of mariners. Now that transoceanic flying is coming to be a serious enterprise and not merely a stunt, it is highly important that aviators have "pilot charts" as well. They must know the direction and velocity of the wind at many levels, if they are to make successful flights over the great expanse of the ocean.

The month of February was a notable one for us in that we made several important changes in our instruments and methods. Ever since our departure from Washington, an attempt had been made to use the marine earth inductor for determining the strength of the earth's magnetic field in addition to the angle of inclination. All the trials up to the present time had failed to give results as reliable as those obtained with the standard "deflector." By changing the method slightly we now were getting comparable readings.

The Carnegie has ever been on the alert for new and simpler methods for making physical measurements at sea. In fact, her contributions in this respect may be considered among the greatest of her achievements for science, because little advance can be expected until reliable and practical instruments are available.

In collecting samples of the ocean bottom we had been using a "snapper" type of collector, in which a large lead weight surrounding the shaft was made to close the jaws when bottom was struck. It often happened, however, that the apparatus hit at an acute angle and not head-on; in which case it would fail to close. By countersinking the weight so as to bring it down over the spring, the center of gravity was lowered. Thereafter, only one failure was recorded from that cause. When it is realized that it took from two to three hours to make a sounding, a considerable amount of our supply of gasoline, it will be apparent how greatly this simple change helped us.

Another advance in methods the modification of a Sigsbee reversing frame to contain two thermometers instead of one. This frame was attached to the sounding wire near the bottom snapper, and the original single thermometer gave us only the temperature of the bottom water. This information itself is of great interest to oceanographers. We needed a check on the depth from which the deposit was collected--a check which would be more reliable than that offered by the length of wire paid out and the angle. Owing to the drift of the vessel and crosscurrents in the deeps, the wire almost never dropped in a straight line to the bottom. We were able to calculate depths accurately from the difference between the readings of two reversing thermometers down together. One of them was protected against the enormous pressures at great depths to give the true temperature; the other, being unprotected, a reading which represented the temperature plus the mechanical "squeezing" of the mercury bulb due to the weight of the water column above it.

Our echo-sounding device us a third check on bottom depths, of course. In scientific work such as we were doing, there are never too many checks. Even the simplest procedure is subject to error at times; and our aim was to attain the highest degree of accuracy possible in every measurement made on board.

During heavy weather we often found our silk tow nets torn by a sudden surge of the vessel. These nets were very expensive, and had to be made to order in Washington. So we made every effort to save them. On February 18, we tried attaching the nets to the ship by a long rubber rope commonly used in the landing gear of aircraft. Afterwards, we seldom lost a net. In addition, after February 6, the plankton tows were made from the forecastle head, thus reducing the danger of fouling the other wires which were lowered from the quarter-deck.

The work with the pilot balloons was made very successful by the beautiful blue skies we enjoyed after clearing the dense clouds of the Peruvian coast. These flights often lasted thirty to sixty minutes, so one can imagine the severe strain on the muscles holding a heavy sextant for that length of time. It was necessary to devise some method for supporting the instrument. One of the deck chairs was fitted with arms and uprights to support an overhead bar. The instrument was suspended from this by a long, thin coil spring. In this way the entire weight was removed from the observer's arms; while still allowing freedom of motion. The whole outfit could easily be moved to whatever part of the deck was most favorable for observing the balloon. Captain Ault dubbed the device the "Joshua Chair," in honor of the Old Testament hero who commanded the sun to stand still. He had also suggested that it might better have been named in honor of Moses who at one critical moment in history had to call in the assistance of two men to support his arms.

Captain Ault says: "With this device we perhaps have carried the matter to an extreme, and caused the balloon to stand still. On at least three occasions, the balloon has suddenly appeared to be fixed in the sky, moving only very slowly in altitude and azimuth. On the first occasion, Torreson, the observer at the theodolite, was observing the balloon for fifteen minutes without getting much change. Finally Paul, who had been watching the flight, accused Captain Ault, the sextant man, of looking in the wrong direction and of reading altitudes that were far too low. It turned out that the theodolite had gotten sidetracked to Venus, and the difference between its altitudes of [76 degrees] and the altitudes by sextant of [45 degrees], could no longer be ignored. On the second occasion both observers got sidetracked to Venus."

It is remarkable how closely a white balloon floating at a great height resembles the planet in the sunshine of the late morning or early afternoon. For most of us it was a great surprise to know that Venus could be seen at all in the middle of the day. Captain Ault told us that he had occasionally used this planet for determining geographical position at sea. This trick appears to have been known to mariners of former times, but has fallen out of use.

On February 8, Soule and Leyer moved the sonic depth finder from the radio laboratory to the control room on the quarter-deck. This was done to enable us to take additional night soundings without disturbing Jones who slept in the radio room. Paul had learned the technique of using the apparatus and now took a sounding after he had completed his Greenwich Mean Noon meteorological observations. Jones had by this time resumed a large number of schedules with amateur radio stations and had to get his sleep whenever he could, for he had regular magnetic observations and computations to do in the daytime.

New equipment was brought on board at San Francisco. Mr. Gish had tested out a new Kolhorster penetrating radiation apparatus in Pasadena and with Parkinson subjected it to further trials under the waters of Crystal Lake near San Francisco. This instrument registers the quantity of penetrating rays reaching the earth and may be lowered into the sea to determine the depth at which this powerful form of energy is absorbed. Mr. Gish also supervised the installation of a photographic conductivity recorder which had just been designed and constructed in our shop in Washington.

Forbush had brought with him several new chronometers and a photographic time-signal recorder with which time comparisons could be made accurately to one-tenth of a second and approximately to one-hundreth [sic]. These delicate time checks were necessary for the "gravity apparatus." He also brought new silk plankton nets for capturing organisms floating in the sea.

Graham had just come from the Scripps Institution in La Jolla where he had spent a month in studying the methods used in chemical oceanography. He and Dr. Moberg spent most of their time in San Francisco in reconditioning the oceanographic laboratory and in preparing new standard solutions. It was impossible to use the delicate chemical balance on board so these men set up the instrument on the pier. Graham also found time to calibrate the bottles which were to be used in determining the amount of oxygen in sea water. We had had such difficulty in obtaining distilled water of sufficient purity for our chemical work that it was decided to buy a small still of our own. Before Graham could take it on board he had to sign five copies of an affidavit that it would not be used for making liquor.

The gravity apparatus which was installed in the cabin by Dr. Wright was now to be tried out for the first time on a surface vessel. Cruises in Dutch and American submarines had shown that it might be expected to give reliable measurements if the roll of the ship did not exceed [10 degrees]. Besides this we were not bothered with constant vibration due to engines. The pendulum equipment was designed by Dr. Vening Meinesz of Holland and perhaps was the most delicate instrument on board. It recorded photographically the swings of three pendulums and recorded on the same paper the beats of a chronometer whose rate was known with great accuracy. From this trace the force of gravity at any place could be calculated.

On the passage to Honolulu Dr. Moberg and Graham divided the duties in the chemical laboratory, thereby allowing Paul time to record for the pilot-balloon flights. This relieved Captain Ault, for Scott now read off the sextant altitudes. Graham was slightly handicapped in his work because of an accident he had suffered a few days out of port. As he emerged from the chart room one day the heavy door was slammed shut by a sudden lurch of the vessel and his finger was crushed in the lock.

The new triple-size bottom samplers, made up in San Francisco, were a grand success. With these we were able to secure about four pounds of material instead of about one, thus making it unnecessary to make multiple soundings when large amounts of deposit were required. The new theodolite sent to us by the Navy Department was a great improvement since the field of vision was increased.

Forbush gave the gravity apparatus its first trials. As this instrument had never before been used on a surface vessel, but only on a submarine, difficulties were anticipated. They came--thick and fast. First, the heavy rolling threw a pendulum out of its support. On the next trial, it was found that the foot screws were not rigidly enough clamped down. Then it became apparent that some means must be devised for damping the motion of the apparatus. Finally, it was decided that only a new mounting would solve the difficulties. Notwithstanding these setbacks, several useful records were secured.

Heavy crosscurrents near the equator caused appalling losses of oceanographic equipment. On October 11 two silk nets were lost when the tow wire jumped its sheave and wore through. To avoid this trouble in the future, the rubber shock-absorber rope was attached directly at the forecastlehead, eliminating blocks entirely. The same day brought another accident, in which we lost a complete bottom-sampling and bottom-temperature outfit, through the catching of a splice in the meter wheel.

On October 19 we had to repeat the whole deep series of chemical and temperature determinations, because a tiny piece of rope-yarn, caught by the messenger in descending, had prevented it from reversing the bottles. But on October 25 we were to suffer the most serious blow of all. The confusing currents below the surface entangled the bottom wire and the bottle series. In clearing them, the new aluminum-bronze cable was cut by catching on an outboard platform. We lost forty-two hundred meters of wire, nine reversing bottles, and eighteen of our precious deep-sea reversing thermometers. We could ill afford such depletions in equipment, so from this time on the thermal and chemical series was not lowered until the bottom sampling was completed. This change almost doubled the time required for a station.

After Graham joined the party, the chemical program was expanded to include determinations of silicates, phosphates, oxygen, and hydrogen ions at each station. With his help it was possible to add a vertical haul of a silk net from one hundred and fifty meters, at each station, besides occasionally checking the plankton pump. The pump determined the number of organisms floating in the water and to check its efficiency one filtered a known volume of seawater collected in a large bottle through a small silk net, and counted the marine plants and animals so captured.

On November 10, it was decided to heave to in the lee of Penrhyn Island to get a good measurement of the force of gravity. The apparatus had not proved a success on the open sea. This short stop enabled us to collect biological specimens and diatoms from the lagoon, and furnished a little recreation. This tiny atoll lies about midway between the Marquesas and Samoa, and is rarely visited by ships. The Carnegie had stopped there on a previous cruise, so that we were certain of a welcome from the white resident, Mr. Wilson. He was a castaway from the shipwrecked Derby Park in 1888, and since he has never left the island.

Once ashore we found, besides Mr. Wilson, a white merchant named Wilkinson, whom we had met in Tahiti in the spring; and a pearl trader by the name of Woonton. These men at once prepared a grand feast for us, while we rambled about the village, or fished the lagoon for specimens. Our hosts regaled us with many a South Sea yarn, as we sat on the verandahs drinking fresh coconut milk.

Two days later we made a similar call at Manihiki Island; here the gravity measurements were not so successful, owing to the swells coming in from the west. The Resident Agent, Mr. Williams, an old friend of a previous Carnegie cruise, gave us a hearty welcome to his charming island empire. This atoll offered a striking contrast to Penrhyn. Immaculate coral paths divided the neat little houses and flower gardens into "blocks." The natives were well dressed; the coconut palms were properly spaced and pruned for maximum production. Everywhere were evidences of a fatherly care on the part of old Mr. Williams. To the Carnegie this island is remembered chiefly for its characteristic dance. On a previous cruise photographs and moving pictures of this unique performance were destroyed by an accident in developing. And we were fated to lose ours for another reason.

We were now but a few days from Samoa, and the fast-dwindling supply of gasoline was eked out by catching every breath of air that blew our way. Reports and computations for the voyage about to close kept all hands at work till late at night.

The temperature of the ocean bottom had been measured at almost every oceanographic station since Honolulu, but just outside Samoa we recorded our lowest-- one and one-tenth degrees centigrade. Another interesting observation was that in this region of long-continued calms, the surface may be almost a whole degree warmer than the water five meters below it; differences of one one or two hundredths degrees are usual, when winds mix the surface layers. There was also a two-degree diurnal variation at the surface due to the sunshine.

The outstanding result of our echo sounding was the discovery of a new submarine ridge just north of Hawaii. We were able to show that there is no deep trough between Penrhyn and Manihiki, as the charts would lead one to believe. The slopes of these two islands, as well as that of Tutuila, were carefully plotted.

Pilot-balloon flights had been very successful, thanks to the fine skies and the new theodolite. This instrument was so well adapted to conditions, that the sextant chair designed by Captain Ault was seldom used.

Radio conditions had been unexcelled throughout the entire trip. Daily schedules with many amateurs in the United States, Hawaii, and Australia had brought us the news of the world, and had kept us in constant touch with our home office. As an instance to show the faithful services of these enthusiasts, we might mention the operator of station W6DZY. He transmitted a two-hundred word technical message for us and finished by stating that he had just broken three fingers, owing to the fall of a piece of heavy machinery.

Entering Pago Pago Harbor in the early afternoon of November 19, we did not have darkness to contend with as we did in the spring, when we nearly piled up on the reef. But this time the little engine was pushed to the limit in bucking the powerful wind squalls that swooped down from the mountains surrounding the bay. Time and again we were stopped dead in our tracks by these sudden gusts, almost losing steerageway at times. Because of the danger in tying up to the wharf under these conditions, we made fast to a buoy until the following morning.

The landing this time was almost a home coming. Our friends of the spring were on hand to welcome us, with here and there a new face among them. The hospitality of the Naval Station was extended to us, as before. Since we were to remain here over a week, we had a better opportunity for observing Samoan life and for making collections on shore. Once the records and specimens were forwarded to headquarters, we found time to make several delightful excusions [sic] to native villages and into the mountains.

Graham and Paul spent the following Monday in collecting biological specimens. A guide was furnished by the chief who had entertained the party over the week end, and before they returned to the ship they had walked over a greater part of the island, crossing the mountains several times. A large number of native birds were secured for the National Museum and a good collection of characteristic plants was made for the Carnegie Museum in Pittsburgh.

The day of our departure was drawing near and we had preparations to make. Supplies for the galleys and laboratories had to be stowed away and long-neglected letters answered. On November 27 we pushed off for Apia, arriving there on Thanksgiving morning, November 28.

On the morning of Friday, November 29, 1929, the Carnegie was at anchor in the harbor of Apia, Samoa. All morning Captain Ault and the remaining members of the staff were at work on board, the crew was engaged in loading the last of the barrels of gasoline into the ship's tanks. There remained only one hundred and fifty gallons to stow away when lunchtime came. After the noon meal, the crew resumed their task; Captain Ault unfolded a chair and sat on the quarter-deck; the engineer and mechanic were below in the engine room; and the others were scattered over the forward half of the ship, at various duties.

With a rumbling roar the ship was shaken from stem to stern by an explosion--then another. Captain Ault was thrown into the water. The men at work over the tank room were hurled to different parts of the ship. The engineer and mechanic were trapped in the engine room and in a moment the whole quarter-deck was enveloped in flame.

The steward and Soule, rushing on deck, dived overboard to save the Captain. The engineer and mechanic fought their way out of the blazing engine room by raising themselves through the gaping hole in the deck. The uninjured men dragged the others free of the flames. To save the vessel was out of the question and all attention was directed to the saving of lives.

Small boats had been launched at once from the other ships in the harbor. Captain Ault, who had been holding on to a rope as he floated in the water, was helped into one of these and with the other injured men was taken ashore. Apparently he was suffering only minor injuries; but his injuries were serious and on the way to the hospital, our Captain died as a result of them and of shock.

The other men who had been on the quarter-deck suffered fractures and severe burns. They were given immediate surgical attention by the hospital staff, who had been notified by telephone of the accident. When the survivors were collected ashore, Tony, the cabin boy, could not be accounted for. He had last been seen in the after galley, immediately next to the tank room; so it was apparent that he too had lost his life. His remains were not discovered until December 4, when salvage operations on the charred hull of the vessel were commenced.

Seaton, Graham, and Paul had been away on a collecting trip and did not return until about three hours after the tragedy. The hospital staff and Government officials had done everything in their power for the survivors. There was nothing further to do but to await the arrival of the U. S. S. Ontario, the naval vessel from Pago Pago which the Navy had ordered to our aid.

The engineer and mechanic were too severely burned to stand the journey to Pago Pago, so they were left in the hospital at Apia. Parkinson, as second in command, also stayed to take charge of affairs there. On the day following the explosion, all the others were taken to American Samoa to await the steamer from Sydney. The three injured seamen we brought with us were put in the Naval hospital while the members of the staff were taken into the homes of the Naval officers, and the crew was quartered in the barracks.

Everything was done to make us comfortable. We were furnished necessary clothing--for the ship and all its equipment together with our personal effects, had been a total loss. Governor Lincoln, on behalf of the Navy, arranged immigration papers for entry into the United States for those who were not citizens.

On December 6, the survivors accompanied the body of Captain Ault aboard the Ventura for the sad journey home.