The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 21, 1897, Page 17

| i T THE SA FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1897 1a wet wind siapped as 1 went splashing ugh the little puddies one night s wharf in the wake of three M ibber-coated pilots. On the extreme end | down in the th with little unseen bubblings and ings out in the gloom. There uneasy thoughts as the uncanny gu of the tide against the dock piles at night. One falls to imagining that the black, | chilly, slimy waters have found a suicide floating in the darkness under the whar, and are laughing at it. Probably tossing it here aud there against the shell-coated timbers, and enjoying the helpl ihe victim of their play. structionists would the sea is called upon to give up its dead in that last day, and its victims line up on the beach, it will have enough to answer for, let alone ti at have plunged voluntarily off the pier head to death, and have drifted out witn the tid 1 wish—but my wist ng is interrupted by a hoarse hail of “Bonita ahoy!” as big, burly Pilot Meyer sends his hurricane voice hurtl irough " the storm and, the night. Presently we hear the well-known drumming of the oarsin the rowloc! ttle white spectral yawl bumps i the landing, We all cliinb down the slippery steps and en- ier the craft. There is about an eighth of an inch of water on the thwarts adhering to. the s capillary attraction, but ‘se sit cheerfully down in the wet and, { with the rain pelting industriously at us, ve pulied out to the pilot-boat Bonita. Down into her cozy saloon I followed my e uides and hosts, and seated on a oned locker I was glad I did not have 10 heave up anchor and cast off the sail- stops in a stormy winter night. the pawls on the windlass clar liard blocks, accompanied by a of the vessel, told me that we re under way. The stiff southeaster got into our canvas ana we swung quickly t 1o sea. The great lamps on the heads ed us a bright good-night as we went by, the gallant Bonita kicking the foam behind her under reefed foresail and mainsail and a bonnetless jib. The old line, “O pilot, ’tis a fearfnl night,”” kept floating through my brain astie storm howled around us and the whitecaps pleamed ghostly on the great waves “where the harbor bar was moan- ing.” But pilots must work while othe; sleep ana the brave pilot-boat search the sea through the hours of ni storm for the befogged mariner and h ship. When the clouds lie heavily on the har- bor bar blotting out the foam-crested swell b there; when the thick drenching mist blurs the land bearing and a pallid desolation shuts down on the leaden waters; when the in-bound craft draw away from the sheeted dangers of & rocky coast and run for the safe open ocean, a specter flits through the white sodden spaces. It 10t & visitant fraught with infla- ana uncanny, arisi ences mystic the di dead w th dered shi wirecks. 8 in t of the sea to lure the be- | ors know there is mo | rition, for it is the ap- | ring of the while-sailed genius of the e portage that lies behind the billow- beaten harbor gates. So comes the pilot- boat, the weicome messenger from the shore to the approac vessel, lifting | her oceen-worn sid long swell in may that first outward on 1ts of the noontide, | e big dock we stopped and peered off ness across the tideway that is I think, so calculated to bring up ng ssness of | I wish seli-de- | stay ashore, for when | king and the rattle of | htand | | | | Raising a Big Square-Rigger. ELL L R L R R R I R R L R T R T LN R AR E LT R 2 to the forepeak, bulkheaded off into two compartments for the three pilots and the crew ol four men and a cook forward. The after saloon contains six berths with bedding and with drawers and lockers alt neatly arranged for the occupants thereof. There are twenty licensed pilots for this port, and they arrange their watches so that there are three vessels on duty all the time, two outside and one near the mouth of the harbor. The period of a crujse is about four days, or until the boat has exhausted her pilots and there are no outward-bound vessels with pi‘ots aboard, keeping up the supply on the cruising boats. All the poril does not come to the ship | standing in for harbor, for the pilot-boat shares with her the dangers of night fog and tide. Four of the gallant little vessels have met disaster off this port, and sev- eral pilots have never come home. The Sea Witch was lostin a gale in 1854, and nine years afterward the pilot-boat Relief uneasy seas. That a pilot-boat can tum- ble 1 had ample means of learning, as I was pitched from starboard to port, fore and aft, in that saloon as I hunted for my togs scattered around. Everything in the apartment was firmly secured except my- self, and so [ had it ali my own way. A faint but unmistakable suggestion of the dreaded mal-de-mer was creeping over my gastronomic econcmy, and that fact did notadd to my happiness. 1 finally landed into my fugitive shoes and a huge over- coat belonging to Captain Boy one of the pilots, and climbed the companion ladder to the deck. There I found the wheel lashed hard-down, mainsail close reefed and the | weather jib sheets hauled taut. This maneuver literally locked her, and she | was lying to withou: headway and with only aslight drift to leeward. Darkness as dense as a block of coal was on the face of the deep, broken only by the phos- phorescent glow of the foam-curl on thg | Farallon Light Paled and Died in the Greater Flame of Coming Day. when the soft trades scarce shimmer the | sea. surface of the swell, sails the pilot-boat, | aod are schooner-rigged, from | her billowing canvas like a white cloud | and fore sails, jib and flying jib, gaff top- ier-caverns where sleep the | banging low on the sea. in the black gloom of the midnight, when tte thunder reefs, goes the pilot-boat fighting her way oceanward. With all her cloth smugged closedown the jaunty little fore-and-after, like a bird of dusky wing, bravily mounts down to the silent place of | of the pounding surf is heard among the | 1 They are from 65 to 80 tons burden carrying main sail and staysail. The first four sails are the ordinary craising canvas, while the ast two are used in making time before light winds, But it is the lines of the hull that make he Frisco boat the queen craft. She as & good wholesome beam, which over- the mighty roller or dives into the boiling | hangs her deep dranght and makes her | comparatively steady in the short, choppy liquid basins between the green sea-hills, The port of San Francisco is equipped with four beautiful pilot-boats—the Gracie s (), merica (11) sis are sewn on the mainsail of each ves- sel and are the distinguishing marks at eas of the bar. The keel, especially that of the Bonita, Bonita (7), Lady Mine (9) and |is a “rocker,” being deeper amidships | The numbers in parenthe- | than at the stem and stern. mits the vessel to whurl to her helm as on a pivot, and makes Ler easy to handle at This per- | | close quarters in a heavy sea and narrow | channel. Not only is she constructed to withstand the wear of the waves, | but the wear of years as well, and in some | cases, as in that of the Bonita, the builder | } puts a layer of salt among her timbers | as ne bolts her together as a safegnard | against the decay of ume. The boats, at | least in this port, are owned by the pilots | themselves, and as their value ($18,000 or $20,000 apiece) doesn’t drift in to them on every swell, consequently it behooves | them to preserve their strong little vessels | to a green old age. The rail only arises a few inches above the deck, so that if she should ship a sea it would roll off her like ] water from a duck’s back. The interioris along saloon, reaching from the counter | baving “boarded off”’ all her pilots wn” | coming in to harbor. She was overturned | on the bar and her crew drowned. In 1873 the Caleb Curtis, outward bound, was capsized on the treacherous bar and piiots | Vonness, Buckingham and Snandon were lost. All of the ten tons of baliast fell out | of the inverted hull and she floated, to be | recovered and repaired for other uses. A few years ago the T. H. Allen was run | | down 1n a fog by a British bark. All hands | were with difficulty saved. The boat was | | recovered considerebly damaged by her | encounter with the big vessel’s iron stem. Some time after midnight I was awak- | ened in my comfortable berth and founa | that the lively hittle Bonita was doing | lsome low ana lofty tumbling over the | tips of the great swell. Making my way forward I found all three of the pilots with | their glasses peering westward throtgh the bank of blackness. One of the crew was manipulating a patent foghorn, and from this music-box-looking affair oc- casionally came a loud, doleful note. A mail steamer was due, and they were watching to see that she didn’t pass by | us, or over us, in the night. With tue | deck under me often jumping into the perpendicular I could do nothing in the way of finding the liner, so I sat down at the foot of the foremast and, putting my arms around the big stick, assisted in | holding it in its place; at least thatis what Captain Castle said [ was doing. A faint glow appeared on the black S BT SUBB BB B BB B TTEVTD BQ - “BOARDING OFF" WITH THE PILOTS OF THE GOLDEN QATE. uwmxummmmmmmwmmmmmumwmmwwm ently a steamer’s broad light opened in t 1t was the looked- | for vessel, and an answering signal-light ‘ was made. Captain Castle came aft, un- | lashed the wheel, flattened out the head- | sheets and the Bonita darted away to ' cateh her big game. The tackles hanging | | [ku{“‘l" down in the southwest, and pres- night like an eye. from the fore and mainmast heads wera hooked on 10 one of the two yawls stand- ing on the deck, and when the Bonita rounded too under the steamer’s stern the little cockle-shell of a boat was hoisted overboard. Two men took the oars and | Captain Meyers, whose turn it was to | “board-off,” watched his chance and | skillfully slid Into the dancing craft and | instantly disappeared in the surrounding | gloom as though swallowed up by the stormy sea. | In a few moments the lights of the | steamer showed that she was under way | 8gain, and svon tie tiny yawl was seen near us on the crest of a wave about as high above our deck as the masthead, waiting for a chance to get under our les and get aboard. I do not know how it was accomplisned, but in a short time the crew were back on the Bonuta, the yawl lashed to its place alongside of its mate, and we were off searching for more pilot- less ships. The men reported that Cap- tain Meyers was repeatedly ducked get- ting aboard of the steamer, but such mis- haps—even death—are a partof the pilot’s calling. No more fish came to our nsts that nmight, and tiie first glow across the Coast Range found us abreast the Farallones | the gleam of its light growing pale and dying away in the greater flame of coming day. That afternoon we raised a big square- rigger with her jack at the fore—the pilo! day signal—and Captain Boyd got & chance to work his passage home and in- cidentally a good fee into the treasury of the association. An incident the follow- ing night proved the wisdom of keeping a bright lookout for the ships we didn’t want as well as those we did want. While lying to a black, shapeless form suddenly loomed out of the darkness right ahead and bore directly down upon us. A whirl of the wheel heaved us out of her path, and she dragged slowly but ponderously past us, a big schooner with the output of some coast sawmill piled on her deck half as high as her mainmast. These un- gainly floating lumber-yards adrift in a thick fog are things to be shunned by the pilot-boats, strong thouzh they are as oak | and iron can make them. Toward the evening of our last day, the fog suddenly blow.ng away, we made out a ship well in shore headine for the north | channel. No other pilot-boat could be made outin that locality, and we prepared for a chase. The reefs were quickly shaken out,a bonnet laced on the jib, and the speedy Bonita bezan to kick up a sparkling wake with her nimble heel: This was not enough and the gaff-topsail followed by the big staysail flew aloft to swell out with thestiff northwester caught inits folds. The yacht lay over with her lee rail deeply awash, and the upflying spray came over her bow in showers as she sprang from wave to wave. Tha Bonita set her jack—a query to the ship— and the flag stood out to ieeward, = hard blur of blue azainst the-sky, and the taut rouds raug in the stiff breeze like harp chords. Such speed soon used up the | distance between the two vessels, and the boat's last pilot was soon steering tk ip | safe into harbor, whither we followed. We let go our anchor off Meirgs wharf, and the cruise was over. Tou GREGORY. The region about the Dead Sea is one of | the hottest places on the globe, and the | sea is said to lose 1.000,000 tons of water | a day by evaporation. \ afield, and I am like a sort of Rip Van ‘Winkle, noting the changes that have lace since last I climbed to the n top. The buttercups have opened everywhere, though not one was to be seen a week ago, and here by the pathway the first primroses smile a welcome to all comers. Coming up through the canyon T espied the frililleria just beginning to unfold its buds, and the tri m is blos- soming cheerily in the rain. Some writer about our wild flowers speaks of the “haughty confidence” of the trillium as it holds up its head in the damp forest. Somehow wake-robin never seems to me to exhibit any such quality as this. There is more of trust than hauteur in its confi- dence. Isaw a group this morning peep- ng out from under the spreading green leaves of the podophyllum, looking for all the world Jike good children who haa sought shelter from the rain. The buttercups are always welcome. They are pre-eminently the children’s flower, and so plentiful are they as to seem but the commonest weeds, yet they have a long lineage and an honorable history. The little plant is particularly interesting to the evolutionist because of its many variations and the clearness with which its development may ke traced. The family is a large one, with a very peneral distribution, and some of its / branches are quite- aristocratic. Who .would suppose the modest little meadow " 'buttercup to be related to the big, richly colored peonias so proudly fourishing in our flower-beds? The pmony belongs to China. It suggests queer pagoda roofs, and mandarin’s gardens, while the butter- cup is our own intimate friend; but the immense difference between the two is s a whole week since I have been | | not greater than the differences that exist between memberS of many other floral famil The luxuriant growth of the { huckleberries on this coast is a matter of amazement and incredulity to New Eng- landers, who are prompt to deny the identity of our great thickets with the lit- tle plants they know at home; but on voicanic summits of the Pucific isles grows the ohela berry, large as a cherry, red and white, as some of our cherries are, but despite the external differences the fruit growing there in the bare sul- phur deposits is beyond a doubt identical with the huckleberry. The buckleberry tangles here among the redwoodsare in plentiful blossom. Further down, the wild gooseberry has put forth a multitude of buds, and the ceanothus is hung with funny little black ecatkins. Those of the hazel have fallen off, and the willows have come out in full leafage, A single weck, now, makes more difference in the aspect of nature than a fortnight will a month hence. There are no more plowed fields to delight the eye with their rich coloring, but the hilisides and lower fields have donned mantles of glow- ing green. I even saw, hovering over the surface of a cressy pool, yesterday, a swarm of mosquitos, and, harrying on their fianks, their ancient and doughty foe, the big biue dragon-fly. What the sparrow-hawk is to small birds, the dragon-fly is to the gnat tribe, only the big fly seems really to be actuated by an active hatred for his buzzing victims, so implacable, fierce and insatiate is his fend against them. Noting this, some enter- prising entomolozist once proposed cul. tivating and domesticating the dragon-fly for the purpose of exterminating mosqui- tos, but the blue dragon is less tamable than his prototype amoug the vertebrates, the Bengal tiger. He did not take kindly to domestication, but was off to the woods and the streamside the instant he tasted freedom, and we were spared his invasion into our homes. The insect world, like all orders of life, has foes within its own circles, as well as without. Not only does the spider spread his net for the housefly, but the ugly little centipede is the inveterate enemy of this familiar household pest. It attacks the flies after dark, while they sleep, and a single centipede will slay scores of them during the nighttime, apparently not so much for food as for the delight of slaugh- ter. The birds, however. are, after all, the most effectual insect-destroyers we have. But for them life would be unendurable by reason of insect persecution. The first fiy-catchers I have noticed this season made their appearance in toe willows this week, and that same day I espied the first white-crowned sparrow and a wee tit- mouse. Until this spring I have never been so fortunate as to see & bluebird in California, though I have been repeatedly assured of their abundance in various lo- calities, but I saw some days ago a goodly flock, not amid rural scenes at all, but dis- porting upon the housetopsin the very heart of San Francisco. Accompanying them were a dozen or more snowbirds | and sparrows and a single flicker, who seemed to be acting as self-appointed guardian to the pretty throng. Thesight was a faint indication of what we might expect of bird society had we but trees along our City streets, Almost immediately after seeing the bluebirds in S8an Francisco I noted an- other flock in Berkeley, but I have seen none about Oakland or in the foothills, With the exception of the skylark there is no bird more loved by the poets than this beautiful azure morsel of song with his ruddy breast. He might easily be in- duced to make his home among us, as he is particularly partial to the haunts of civilization, and is quick to take ad- vantage of bird boxes if they are putout | for him. Nesting-time has not yet ar- | rived for the birds of this section, nor will | it begin until the trees and shrubs are | more perfectly in leaf than at present. | To build aow would be simply to invite | | marauders. Most of the small birds at | | present flitting about are males awaiting the arrival of their ladies from milder | | climes. February 14 is more by tradition | | than verity the great day of matine in | these parts. I noted, recently, the state- | ment by a Southern California naturalist that birds do not like the eucalyptus trees | | to build in, and the theory is advanced | that the pungent, aromatic odor of this | | aud of the pepper tree is repugnant to | | bird nosirils. It has been my experience, here among the foothills, that our birds build aa freely | in the eucalyntus trees as anywhere else. I saw this morning, within 100 feet of my house, no less than six nestsof as many differert birds in the eucalyptus trees. The oriole is especially fond of swinging | bis airy cradle of a nest just where, near its juncture with the main trunk, a bough | sends forth numerous little leafy branch- |lets, and among the clumps of down- drooping leaves that are apt to be massed at the ends of branches the brown towhee and various kinds of sparrows like to | build. 1 suspected a pair of the black- headed grosbeaks of having a nest last summer near the very top of a tall euca- Iyptus, and the little goldfinch frequently | nests among the dense leaves of saplings. The summer warbler also builds in the eu- calyptus. avoiding these trees in certain localities is | the frequency with which the eucalyptus plantations are visited by wood-cutters. Birds are more intelligent than any other } of the wild creatures and are quick to take warning from aisaster. In a grove below me, where the ax is busy every summer, 1 have never found a bird’s nest, while they abound among the twenty-year-old trees immediately about me. This explanation may or may not be correct. It is certainly more reasonable than to suppose the odor of the tree is offensive to birds, in whom the sense of smell is very feeble. Sight and not scent | is their reliance at all times. A birdseye view’’ is a singularly comprehensive and accurate vision. Neither the pepper tree nor the eucalyptus is very largely visited by insects, which may also have some- thing to do with the birds’ preference for other varieties of trees. 1n my immediate neighborhood I find the warblers and fly- catchers most affect the willows and the dense, low-growing greasewood. The jewel-like lazuli bunting builds in the lupin and southernwood and among the poison oak. I have known one pair to build uader a porch roof close beside the front door, and last year a pair of gold- finches built within a foot of where 1 passed a dozen times a day. Irarely went that way without stopping to chirrup to the little hen on ber eges, but she never seemed afraid. Linnets and titmice, wrens and sparrows all have their nests in a little tangle of currant, greasewood and blackberry just below me, and in a near-by canyon the nests of brown thrushes are more plentiful than I should care to have I suspect the cause of the birds | show any activity on the Pacific Coast at (ULTIVATED peopls in Europe and | \" the eastern part of this country are Q/ moving to revive the art of minia- ture painting. At present it is quite a fad in New York,.and many women of so- cial importance are having their charms immortalized on ivory. There is every | reason why the art should be revived, for | it is one of the loveliest of all the styles of portraiture, and a beautiful face never shows to better advantage than fYhen painted in miniature. Although the art can hardly be said to the present time there are signsof its awakening. In speaking of this art Albert Edward Jackson, & miniaturist of some note, who is now in this City, has much to say about the d fferent phases of it that are not gen- erally known, and yet are of interest to lovers of the beautiful. “The art of miniature painting,” he says, *is most assuredly of Italian origin, although it reached its greatest perfection in France a little over a hundred years ago. “In one of the famous galleries of Rome there is a miniature painting of some Italian beauty bearing the date 1601 Itis not likely that this is the first work of the kind ever painted, nor is it likely that the artist could arrive at such a successful re- sult on his first attempt. [t must have required several years of study to reach such perfection, which would give at least 300 years since the origin of the art. Gen- erally speaking, the art is said to have originated in the latter part of the six- teenth century. “Who the men were who first took up the art is not a matter of record. In fact none of the earlier works are signed, for some mysterious reason. It may be that in those days the art was not looked upon as being of the highest order, or, perhaps, it was done for some jeweler who made the frame or locket and took all the credit to himself. Some of tbe miniatures painted in the early history of the art were put in frames of solid gold that must have cost a fortune. Even the smallest of them were put in lockets studded with most schoolboys know. ADELINE KNarp. valuable jewels. “This early work was not what it might have been. There was very little atiempt at modeling the features, and the coloring was ‘thin and washy.” But most likely they were good likenesses, and the differ- ent features were very strongly marked— | too strongly to produce a really beautiful eifect. But in those days they were the only pictures that couid be used as keep- sakes. They were small and could bé car- ried by a soldier when he went to war, so that he could bring the face of his lady- | love before him during the long cam- paign, or, perhaps, let it be the last object | he mignt gaze upon shouid he receive his death-wound in battle. “The luxuriousness and sentimentality of the French monarchy was calcuiated to bring the art to its greatest perfection. The nobility spent money freely, and sev- eral men sprang into prominence, among them being Jean Foucquet of Tours, per- haps the greatest man who ever worked in miniature. He painted a number of pictures for Louis XIV of the different famous court ladies. His work was so good that it was esteemed the highest honor to pose for him. In fact, he wasin such demand that he chose hisown sitters and obtained his own prices. “Two of the most famous men of the present century were Isabey and Malbone, although they were not entirely wrapped up in the art of miniature as Foucquet was. Both of them worked in oils 1n the ordinary way and Isabey is somewhat famous as a marine painter. But about this time the work was beginning to take on a commercial character, and 50 many men were engaged in it that it was diffi- cult to tell who really did the best work. “‘Between 1 and 1850 a large number of miniature painters flourishea in Amer- ica, as is shown by the large number of their works to be found in different parts of the Southern and Eastern States, There are many fine examples of the art to be found in New Orleant, although the best are in some of the oid Virginia fam- | ilies. These are signed by men who have never been heard of in the art world, and the work is really excellent. Whether they were self-taught or went to Europe for their art education is, of course, past finding out. “Miniature painting has probably had a steadier run in Eongland than anywhere else. but has not been what it was in the days of its glory. The art has always been taught ac the Royal Academy. and doz- ens of men have always made good liv- ing atit. The reason for this lies in the In fact it never has died out there, | | conservatism of the people. They want things as their parents had them. Minia- | tures are neirlooms over there, and if a son is given a picture of his grandmother | in a certain style of ar: he wants one of | his mother just like it—paintea by the | same artist if possible. “It really was the daguerreotype that | killed the art of miniature in America and France. It wasso easy to sit for a few minutes and get a good likeness at any rate, while a painting on ivory took sev- eral days. The difference in price also had a great deal to do with it, no doubt. | When the photograph came, that settled | the miniature painter, as the mechanical | picturesanswered every requirement of the works of art and were so cheap they could be distributed broadcast to friends and relatives all over the world. “‘But a reaction is setting in, as the de- fects of the photograph are becoming ap- | parent. No, photograph is permanent | even if exposed to only a faint light. The finer the paver that is produced the more fugitive it seems. Pictures by some of the | best galleries in the country seem to be- | come mottled and faded after even only a few years. Contrast this with some of the work of the old miniaturists. I have seen some over 100 years old just as fresh as the day they were painted, and these were pictures that had been carried all over the world ana seen rough usage gen- erally. *‘Of late years a large number of men bave been making good livings by cop; ing fading photoeraphs on ivery. This is done to preserve the likeness of a cer- tain person, but how much better it would be if the person had hed a good | picture painted by a good artist in the | first place. A miniature on ivory cannot | fade if the proper water colors are used, | for the work is only a thin film of metal | spread over the white bacikground. They are about as unchangeable as the colors of | & piece of stained glass, and many seem | to have acquired a richness from age. ‘“The old standard way of miniatures is the same to-day ail over the world. The colors, mixed with pure gum-water, are | 1aid on in stipple until the color and like- ness is perfect. In this stage they area little darker than need be, but that is necessary for the needle work, which is really the finishing. For this very hard needles are used that are ground to an ai- most inconceivably tine point. “Every part of the picture is ‘hatched’ over until the ivory shows through as a fine network. This produces the loose effect that is so much admired, and by re- | vealing the ivory produces an effect of flesh obtainable by no other means. In reality this ivory effect might be said to be the charm of miniature painting. The effects of laces and thin goods are pro- duced in this way in a manner thatis quite surprising. “In connection with this work mention | must be made of the sheets of ivory. They are obrained from elephants’ tusks not by sawing off in slices, as might be imagined, but are cut in strips by sawing | round and round so that a long section comes off, of different grades of texture. The finest is just before the center is reached. e