CHAPTER XVIII

_ELECTRICITY APPLIED TO NAVIGATION (A FORECAST)_

“And knowledge shall be increased.”--DANIEL xii. 4.

DEVELOPMENT IN SIZE OF SHIPS AND STEAMERS

“Don’t give yourself away,” shrewdly remarked an eminent engineer, as I discussed with him the outline of this work, and the probability that in the near future, gigantic ships, as long as the Crystal Palace, and propelled solely by electricity, would traverse the seas. “I have not yet come across any form of accumulator that could be adapted to such a purpose, though I admit that the next quarter of a century may produce some startling results. Still, I would not, if I were you, write about it.”

My friend, like many scientists, was cautious, and did not like to commit himself; but I am not professionally restricted, and may freely indulge in a dream containing many elements of reality, and “take the wings of fancy,” nay, may also “take the wings of foresight,” and try to describe a mail-packet of the future.

But before entering into particulars of that phenomenon, the _Princess Ida_, and to prepare ourselves for the contemplation of her large proportions, we should note the evolutionary process which has gone on steadily for the last seventy years, and rapidly during the close of the Victorian Era, in regard to the size and tonnage of ocean steamers.

To go far back for the purpose of comparison--_i.e._ to the days when Britain as a maritime nation was in her infancy, or even to Tudor and Stuart times, when the _Great Harry_ floated proudly in English waters, and Elizabeth’s _Ark Royal_ defied the Spanish Armada, or when Phineas Pett reconstructed Charles the Second’s navy and planned those famous men-of-war, the _Royal Sovereign_, _Royal Charles_, and _Royal Prince_--is misleading, because up to Nelson’s time the practice of building ships with an extravagant amount of “sheer” (the forecastle and stern towering upwards to protect the fighting men, and producing the outline of a doubled-up old shoe), together with the pronounced “tumbling in” of the ship’s sides, rendered it difficult to arrive at any correct estimate of length and beam. Approximately, 1,500 tons might represent the _Great Harry’s_ measurement, and 150 feet her length, the Carolean _Royal_ being about the same.

This method of shipbuilding began to be modified while Pepys was at the Admiralty, but it was very gradually abandoned, and had almost disappeared at the beginning of the century, the _Victory_, slightly over 2,000 tons, and some 152 feet in length, showing but a slight trace of it in her high poop.

In 1834 a merchantman of 1,000 tons was considered a big craft, the largest on Lloyd’s register for that year being 1,500 tons, upon which there was not much advance until the “fifties” and “sixties,” when all the adventurous of England’s manhood were irresistibly attracted to the goldfields of Australia, and vessels of large tonnage began to be laid down on the stocks. Of such were the _British Empire_, 2,676 tons; the _Donald McKay_, 2,636 tons; _Red Jacket_, 2,000 tons; and many others of from 1,000 to 1,800 tons registered tonnage. These in their turn gave place to iron “sailers” of immense capacity, the tendency being to build them bigger and still bigger--“five-masters” of from 3,000 to 4,000 tons--it having been found that they are worked more economically than smaller craft, and are able to compete with the larger vessels of other countries, and with the syndicates that threaten to monopolise the nation’s carrying trade. Foreign examples are _La France_, 3,624 tons, and the _Preussen_ (biggest in the world), 4,700 tons.

In steamers the development of size has been great, and astonishingly so since the universal adoption of the screw-propeller. For instance, the paddle-wheel _William Fawcett_, that pioneered the P. and O. Company, built in 1829, was but 74 feet long; the Cunard _Britannia_, that took Charles Dickens to Boston, was a paddle-boat of 1,154 tons, and 207 feet long; the _Great Britain_ (1843) was 3,400 tons register, and regarded as phenomenal.

Presently the shipping world arrived at the awakening period of its history, when steamers of from 350 to 500 feet long, and of from 4,000 to 7,000 tons, began to be common; but old stagers shook their heads, and asked where and when this enlargement was going to stop. Time went on, and splendid mail boats, such as the Cunard _Scotia_ and _Persia_, in their day considered perfect, were looked upon as obsolete, and even their successors, the _Servia_, 7,392 tons and 515 feet long, the _Etruria_, 7,718 tons and 502 feet long, and others of similar dimensions, soon ceased to be wondered at. This was eighteen years ago. Then, by leaps and bounds, so great was the competition between the different Atlantic liners, and so strong the demand for speed, that 10,000 tons was soon reached in the White Star Company’s _Majestic_ and _Teutonic_, and exceeded by the Cunarders, _Campania_ and _Lucania_ (1893), of 13,000 tons each, 620 feet in length, and over 65 feet in beam.

But Harland and Wolff, of Belfast, who had been building 12,000 ton boats, metaphorically without “turning a hair,” were determined not to be beaten, and produced their new _Oceanic_ (1899), 704 feet by 68 feet, _i.e._ nearly as long as the Haymarket, and about as broad as one portion of Piccadilly. In her, it was thought, finality had been reached; but last year Belfast witnessed the launch of a still bigger vessel, the _Cedric_, 21,000 tons gross register, 700 feet long, and 75 feet wide--the largest steamer afloat! Even she is destined to take second place, as ere long two ships belonging to the Cunard Line will dispossess the _Cedric_ of her premier position. These wonderful creations will be 750 feet by 76 feet, with an estimated sea-speed of 25 knots.

Thus we clearly see how enormously the dimensions of steamers have increased; for instance, the _Britannia_ (1840) was 1,154 tons, and 207 feet long, and had accommodation for 115 cabin passengers, no “steerage” being carried. But the _Cedric_ is nearly 3½ times longer, and carries 3,000 people across the Atlantic, besides her crew of 350 hands. In the same ratio of progression, ships (they will not be called _steamers_, but _electrofers_) 2,500 feet long, with comfortable quarters for 75,000 human beings, will be the order of the day!

I have not referred to the poor old _Great Eastern_--or _Leviathan_ as she was originally named--680 feet long, and of 16,000 tons register. She was before her time, and, like other big steamers of that day, far too heavy in her plating to be driven economically at even moderate speed.

Great dimensions and swiftness have been rendered possible by improved engines, but chiefly by the employment of steel in their construction, which so materially reduces the _vis inertia_, that in the case of the _Pennsylvania_, built by Harland and Wolff for the Hamburg-American Line, although a mighty carrack of something like 585 feet, and 62 feet by 42 feet, her actual dead-weight is only 8,000 tons. Still more remarkable will be the reduction--about one-half--when aluminium with some form of alloy--copper, perhaps--comes into general use. Torpedo-boats have been built with this metal, and have run with great smoothness. It exists in every clay and shale formation, and is scattered throughout the world in immense profusion, our London clay consisting principally of silicate of alumina. Electricity is used in manufacturing this beautiful metal, that requires no paint to defend it from rusting; and, although it has hitherto been a costly article, the time is not far off--so it is said--when the price will come down to £19 a ton, or less.

A recent and novel application of aluminium to building purposes is to be seen at Chicago, where a house sixteen stories high is fronted on both sides with it, instead of bricks or terra-cotta.

Berthing the monstrous ships of the future is a problem met by a radical and world-wide alteration in the dimensions of docks, supplemented by quays running out into deep water, which in London would extend on both sides of the Thames, on the north from Tilbury to the Albert Docks, thus converting the old river, like the Clyde, into a long water-street lined by sea-walls, and kept constantly dredged, and connected with London by special lines of railway.

But what is to be the propelling power of the future leviathans? Not steam; but electricity, applied to the machinery from storage batteries. Why not?

ELECTRIC STORAGE AS A MOTIVE POWER

Sceptics in the past argued that it was manifestly impossible that vehicles would ever be horseless, or that communications would one day be transmitted by telegraph, not to speak of the time when even the wires for that purpose would be dispensed with; while the suggestion that artificial light would be obtained through any other agency than candles or oil-lamps, and that sail-less ships would be propelled against wind and tide, seemed savouring of Bedlam!

Yet all these seeming impossibilities, and many more, have become realities. So, too, will electrical marine propulsion, and, although we live in a more enlightened era than our ancestors, few persons even now perhaps realise that ships will be navigated without either sail or steam power.

By this time, however, the public have become so familiarised with scientific marvels, that they have ceased to wonder at anything. For instance, there is nothing really more marvellous than that hundreds, or even thousands, of horse-power should be borne by a copper wire, or a moderate cable, and despatched to a distant point with the speed of lightning for traction purposes; but, without knowing what the nature of the force is, we cease to be astonished at it. In point of fact, it is not more occult than heat or light, the attraction of gravity or cohesion.

Therefore when it was announced last year that Edison had solved the problem of how to store electrical force effectually, everybody took it for granted that he had been, or would eventually be, as successful in this direction as in multiplying electric light and applying it to a thousand new purposes.

The “Wizard of Llewellyn Park” is necessarily a sanguine inventor, but he has taken the right and only satisfactory way to determine the question--that of varied and long-continued experiment. Electricity differs from all other forms of power in two respects--it can be stored, and transmitted to a distance. The task of transmission has been, and is being, rapidly achieved. The far greater object of light and efficient storage, the most momentous problem awaiting solution in the whole range of practical physics, may very shortly be solved.

In brief, Edison’s storage battery cells are composed of tiny bricks of specially-prepared iron and nickel. In charging and discharging, oxygen is driven from one metal to the other and back again through the action of a potash solution, and without corrosion or waste. Renewal of the water supply is all that is needed to keep the cells in good condition, and a process of recharging has been improved, so that less time is consumed than for the recharging of other batteries. No wonder he believes that the application of storage batteries will ultimately be extended to trains, and especially to ships.

The claim of the Edison Accumulator is that it will occupy about the same space as the present battery, and that it will weigh only about seventy per cent. as much, and will be more durable. Men conversant with the theory of electrical science are not so thoroughly impressed with the work accomplished as is Mr. Edison. The tests that have been made have been more than duplicated, it is said, by the batteries now on the market. We may assume, then, that either Edison’s or somebody else’s method of storing up electricity for the propulsion of sea-going vessels will be perfected.

THE “PRINCESS IDA” IN THE YEAR A.D. 19--

Early one morning in the spring of 19--a small party of ladies and gentlemen, anxious to avoid the east wind fiend by flying from their native shores to milder regions, travelled by the electric railway towards the mouth of the Thames, and, branching off at a point near Barking Junction, traversed the new line, running for miles alongside the splendid quays recently completed between Galleon’s Reach and Tilbury, where special berths were reserved for the leviathan liners that had begun running from the port of London to Cape Town.

Long before the station was reached inquiring glances had been cast riverwards for the first glimpse of the giantess _Princess Ida_.

“That cannot be the _Princess Ida_,” said an unbelieving and short-sighted member of the party to his sharp-eyed friend, who was pointing to something which in the distance looked like a couple of White Star _Cedrics_ linked together and towering above the roofs of the warehouses that commanded the quays.

“Well, you will see for yourself presently,” he retorted. “Seeing is believing, isn’t it?” And as the train got nearer and nearer, wonder and admiration increased, and when a break in the line of warehouses gave them a clear view of the great vessel, her beautiful proportions, her polished hull gleaming in the sunlight, and her exquisite cleanliness, their excitement and enthusiasm rendered them speechless.

The _Princess_ was berthed close alongside the river wall, and through a great sliding port in her side over a short, stout gangway like a drawbridge, neat motor-cars laden with luggage, and with passengers who had made the run direct from their London homes, passed in continually, emerging later from a corresponding port-hole some distance away. Of cargo there was none, the only resemblance to it being mails, sufficient in quantity, however, to fully load an ordinary small steamer. As these were not timed to arrive alongside from the General Post Office until two o’clock, the party had plenty of leisure to look around, and from what they had read about this wonderful ship, supplemented by much information supplied by a courteous and communicative official detailed as cicerone, they were able to give the following history and particulars of that interesting up-to-date creation of shipbuilding--the fair giantess _Princess Ida_.

She was constructed by the Thames Ironworks Company, a flourishing concern that worthily represented the marked revival of the shipbuilding industry in the world’s metropolis. The material used throughout, except for the lower masts, machinery, propellers, and rigging, was aluminium alloyed with copper. Her dimensions were as follows: length over all, 1,600 feet; breadth amidships, 164 feet; depth from upper deck, 110 feet; estimated gross registered tonnage, 33,500; but her lines were so perfect and graceful as to mask these enormous measurements.[10] She had an “entrance” forward like a clipper ship, and a “clearance” aft of the utmost fineness, the stem being rounded off in most beautiful curves. Her floor in the midship sections was flat, and resembled the letter U, and deep bilge keels helped to keep her steady, and enabled her to settle down upon her shore cradle without risk of canting or straining. Her horizontal outline revealed to nautical eyes just that amount of “sheer,” and no more, necessary for strength, rising almost imperceptibly to a graceful overhanging bow, from which pointed a tapering bowsprit, apparently short, but in reality a single massive spar of Oregon pine.

This style had been adopted by the owners because, as they argued, it added considerably to the beauty of the great ship, and as she probably would never enter a dock--using a shore cradle when it was necessary to cleanse the hull--a few score feet added to her length would make but little difference in the room she took up at the quays. The figure-head, of oxidised silver, was a beautiful half-draped representation of Tennyson’s fair Princess--

“All beauty compass’d in a female form.”

Five magnificent pole-masts, set up with thick wire shrouds and backstays, rose aloft from her deck, their lower part of steel, the upper section of polished and varnished American fir, terminating in gilded globes, one of them being specially set apart for the wireless telegraph apparatus. These masts, with a graceful “rake,” could not have been much less than three hundred feet high, but were in accurate proportion to the length of the _Princess Ida_, giving her the appearance of a Brobdingnagian five-masted fore-and-aft schooner. In an emergency, sails could be put up from them to keep the ship’s head to the wind and sea. No ventilators showed their unsightly mouths above the very broad teak top-rail, for they were not needed; but more than the regulation number of boats--about eighty, all hoisted electrically--hung from massive davits, some being electric launches. No great forty-feet wide funnels to hold the wind; no top-hampering superstructures broke the deck area, save the deck stairway houses and the wide bridge, with its chart-room, captain’s sanctum, and binnacle house, in which a wheel that a child could turn operated the steering-gear, consisting of a great toothed pinion wheel keyed to the enormous rudder, and worked by two electric motors used alternately.

From end to end was a double striped and fringed awning. The _Princess_ carried a search-light of enormous range and power on her foremast, and her sidelights were disposed without any disfiguring effect on her starboard and port bows, and not in miniature Eddystones. Her anchor gear, worked by electricity, was the heaviest ever made, and resembled that of the largest battleship.

Over all floated the red merchant flag of Great Britain, 40 feet by 24 feet, the flag of the South African Commonwealth, the Blue Peter at the fore, and above the taffrail the beautiful blue ensign of the Royal Naval Reserve, while in honour of this her maiden voyage she was dressed rainbow-fashion with innumerable pennons.

The hull was built on the cellular principle, divided into water-tight compartments up to above the waterline, the decks or floors being ten in number. The mighty hold, and the space where bunkers would have been in an ordinary steamer, were filled with storage batteries; so that an immense area was at disposal for electric power, renewed daily by a wonderful chemical process, the weight of the batteries--in this case an advantage--taking the place of ballast, keeping the _Princess Ida_ at an almost unvarying draught.

Relatively the machinery of the _Princess Ida_ was simplicity itself. She had three propellers that _looked_ inadequate to move so vast a bulk. There were no quadruple expansion-balanced engines with cylinders of 28, 41, 58, and 84 inches in diameter, and no bewildering gathering of cranks, pistons, rods, and levers, but the shafts were coupled direct to enormous electric motors which turned them with resistless force, without the loss involved in the use of a long propeller-shaft. There was no escaping steam, no heat, no stuffy stokehold and fierce boilers, no smell of oil and waste, and the ventilation was almost as perfect as on deck.

Going on board by the central gangway reserved for foot-passengers, one entered a splendid hall fifty feet high and a hundred feet square, resembling the lounge saloon of a big hotel, with glass dome-shaped skylight above--a winter garden with beds of flowers and groups of sea-loving palms at the side, kept-renewed throughout the voyage; seductive easy-chairs and couches scattered about; tables here and there, covered with periodicals and writing material; while at one end of a platform, used by the ship’s band, and forming a miniature stage, was a grand piano backed by a handsome curtain of peacock-blue plush, and, facing it, a fine organ, both instruments strictly reserved for public entertainments, theatrical and otherwise. The walls of this beautiful saloon were of polished New Zealand woods, Kauri pine predominating, than which a lighter and more elegant wainscot can hardly be imagined. Fireplaces with ornate overmantels burnt logs of wood--a sacrifice to conventionality and sentiment, as they were not required for warmth, the ship being lighted and heated throughout by electricity.

In general arrangement the interior of the ship reminded one of a modern hotel, and the illusion was heightened by the port-holes on the main or second deck being so arranged as to resemble plate-glass windows set in frames of great strength, and when the vessel began to move on the waters it was as if a section of the Cecil Hotel had floated off into the river. But, though beautifully furnished, the ship was not overdone with meaningless decoration. Mirrors were restricted in number, and there was but little gilding. Rare paintings of ships, birds, and flowers were on the walls, while wood-carvings in the style of Grinling Gibbons and delicate French bronzes beautified unsightly corners. All the decks were covered with india-rubber laid over fireproof planking, reducing noise to a minimum, those below the upper deck being carpeted; and as all the doors were sliding and shut noiselessly, the general effect of quietude was delightful, even the electric gongs being subdued in tone.

The style of upholstery throughout was that of the latest Victorian Era, modified to meet the requirements of life at sea. There was, of course, a very grand dining-saloon, and smaller ones for private parties; also a principal drawing-room, boudoirs, tea-rooms, and in the transoms (_i.e._ the aftermost part of the ship) one small and purely ornamental parlour in imitation of Princess Ida’s in her college--

“.... a court Compact of lucid marbles, boss’d with lengths Of classic frieze with ample awnings gay Betwixt the pillars, and with great urns of flowers”--

where a statue of that divinity, seated on a throne, with a couple of tame leopards on each side, was placed as a kind of tutelary genius, to which the sentimental ladies on board made weekly offerings of the choicest flowers they could get.

Then there had been skilfully provided in this wonderful ship a small oratory for the use of Roman Catholic passengers, several libraries, reading and lecture rooms, a music-room, a cardroom, smoking saloons of course, a billiard-room, (available in very fine weather), swimming or rather plunge baths, and electric and ordinary baths in abundance made of aluminium; besides massage-rooms, coiffeurs’ and barbers’ saloons, a shooting-gallery, a post and telegraph office, a gymnasium, a skating-rink, a bowling-alley, a photographic room, an amateur’s workshop, an apartment specially set apart for ping-pong and similar games, American bars, and a miniature cafe for the pleasure of those who would make believe they were still ashore; a tennis-court, a miniature golf-link, a small running, walking, and cycle track (quoits, cricket, hockey, and even football could always be enjoyed on the upper deck), an aviary (parrots prohibited), a natural history room, an aquarium, a servants’ hall, a nursery (a remote locality) with tracks for perambulators; small shops for confectionery, millinery, hosiery, and tobacco; also a printing-press, a dispensary, and a hospital; a cell for insubordinates, and, alas! a mortuary.[11]

On the upper deck--so great was the distance from stem to stern, twice up and down being more than a mile--small electric trolley-chairs were at the disposal of the old or infirm to enable them to take open-air exercise. A wide shelter-promenade ran round the ship’s sides between two of the decks, looking out on the sea through spacious port-holes, and when wind and rain were too pronounced there were the roomy stairway houses on deck wherein to take refuge.

On every floor there were lifts for those who cared to use them. The telegraph and telephone made intercommunication easy, and at every corner of the ship, with its maze of corridors and staircases, direction-tablets indicated one’s whereabouts.

Families were accommodated with furnished suites of private rooms, which could be rented or even leased. Here they could bring their own servants, and be boarded independently of the other travellers. These suites varied in size from a modest sitting-room and bedroom for solitary couples, to flats suitable for a large number. There were bedrooms (not cabins) for spinsters and bachelors, and double-bedded rooms. The familiar two, four, and six open-berthed staterooms were conspicuous by their absence.

Of regulations there were few, and these were framed for the general good and were strictly enforced. No dogs or cats were allowed in any part of the ship; the playing upon any instrument, except in the music-room, was prohibited, and this applied even to the private suites; small children and babies were kept absolutely separate from the adults, and smoking was forbidden except in saloons set apart for that purpose and in private rooms.

All cookery was done by electricity,[12] supplemented by charcoal, and the scale of provisions that had to be dealt with, apart from the ship’s stores for the crew, was Gargantuan, while fresh fruit, fish, etc., were always obtained in addition at the various stopping places. For the round voyage, with allowance for accidents, say forty-two days in all, there had to be put on board for the passengers: of fish, 36,000 lbs.; fresh meat (beef, mutton, lamb, veal, and pork), 367,700 lbs.; fowls and chickens, 16,000; ducks, 1,800; geese, 950; turkeys, 1,500; partridges, grouse, etc., 3,600 brace; 260 tons of potatoes; 560 hampers of vegetables; 4,000 quarts of ice-cream; 18,000 quarts of milk; 215,000 eggs; also canned goods, butter, flour, and groceries in proportion. Of champagne, 18,000 bottles; 15,000 of claret; 110,000 of ale; 45,000 of stout; 87,000 of mineral waters; and 10,000 bottles of various spirits. All these, except the stimulants, were preserved in chilled rooms, the ice being made on board.

At a pinch the _Princess Ida_ could accommodate--besides her crew of four hundred, a small army of servants, the stewards, and stewardesses (there were no stokers or firemen)--six thousand souls; but to ensure comfort, only 3,500 passengers were as a rule booked, necessarily at high rates. All were of one class, the only difference, as in an hotel, being in the price paid for position.

The officers were comfortably quartered in the forward part of the ship in a manner equal to the first class of many a steamer; the crew beneath, in the so-called forecastle, palatial in comparison with the old-fashioned sailing ship.

By the time the handy-man had taken these notes H. M.’s mails arrived alongside, and were put on board by electric trolleys through the central side port. There was no stupefying, deafening escape of steam, and no maddening ringing of great bells. The Blue Peter--some fifteen feet square--fluttered down from the foremast, and a megaphone in sonorous tones announced that the hour of departure had arrived, and that visitors must leave for the shore.

The _Ida_ began to show that she could move, and majestically and slowly shifted her position, until her bow pointed seaward, a mighty cheer going up from quay and ship. An unseen orchestra gave forth “Auld Lang Syne,” and in the fading light the _Princess Ida_, glowing with incandescents, her syren sounding at intervals, disappeared in the river fog on her maiden voyage.

Going down channel at an easy fifteen knots, it was immediately noticeable how remarkably steady the great ship was in the choppy sea. There was an entire absence of vibration, partly attributable to the metal of which she was constructed, and to the perfect balancing of her machinery and nice adjustment of weight throughout her holds. Even in the Bay of Biscay, which was wavelessly heavy in long, sullen rollers after a mighty storm from the west had died away, the _Princess_ behaved like a real sea-lady, yielding slowly, but steadily, to the _force majeur_ of the Atlantic; and no one dreamt of being sea-sick except one very bilious-looking gentleman, a heavy eater, hailing from Brazil.

In short, she proved herself to be a splendid sea-boat. Not a drop of water could reach her upper decks; pitch she hardly could, as her great length enabled her to ride quietly across the valleys between oncoming waves.

A few hours’ detention at beautiful Madeira, and shortly afterwards Teneriffe was reached, where it began to be warm; but the ship was so spacious, and was kept so cool by means of refrigerators, electric fans, and--when necessary--punkahs, that no one felt in the least inconvenienced by the heat. There were no smuts, no smoke, and, better still, no smell of oil or paint (neither of these being used on the ship), no cockroaches, mosquitoes, flies, or rats!

Here she began to put on speed, working up to eighteen knots an hour, her maximum (very great speed being no special consideration), and it was then observed that so smooth and tapering were her lines, that she slipped through the water raising but little bow wave, and almost as frictionless as a swift ocean-fish.

An hour or so at lonely Ascension, and the same at St. Helena--in each case to deliver and receive mails, and to keep up telegraphic communication with London--a voyage altogether of wondrous beauty and enjoyment, nights of solemn loveliness, and days that broke in perfect splendour, cloudless, save for little patches of white here and there, and the ocean a dazzling radiance of deep blue.

Cape Town--six thousand miles in sixteen days out from Tilbury--and, greeted by thousands who had flocked from far and near to witness the sight, the _Princess Ida_ glided to her berth inside the great breakwater.

And there for the present I must leave her.

I think I have demonstrated that, theoretically at least, the tiny electric launches, put on the Thames in 1889 by the Immisch Company, one of which, the _Lammda_, took the then Prince of Wales through Boulter’s Lock, was the forerunner of the ocean steamer of the twentieth century.

But there is no absolute novelty under the sun; for it is stated that in 1838 a distinguished Roman scientist, Jacobi, invented an electric motor which drove a small boat on the Neva at two miles an hour.