provoked my mistrust. It is open to any man to say that his ship
will sail without ballast; and he will say it, too, with every mark
of profound conviction, especially if he is not going to sail in
her himself. The risk of advertising her as able to sail without
ballast is not great, since the statement does not imply a warranty
of her arriving anywhere. Moreover, it is strictly true that most
ships will sail without ballast for some little time before they
turn turtle upon the crew.

A shipowner loves a profitable ship; the seaman is proud of her; a
doubt of her good looks seldom exists in his mind; but if he can
boast of her more useful qualities it is an added satisfaction for
his self-love.

The loading of ships was once a matter of skill, judgment, and
knowledge. Thick books have been written about it. "Stevens on
Stowage" is a portly volume with the renown and weight (in its own
world) of Coke on Littleton. Stevens is an agreeable writer, and,
as is the case with men of talent, his gifts adorn his sterling
soundness. He gives you the official teaching on the whole
subject, is precise as to rules, mentions illustrative events,
quotes law cases where verdicts turned upon a point of stowage. He
is never pedantic, and, for all his close adherence to broad
principles, he is ready to admit that no two ships can be treated
exactly alike.

Stevedoring, which had been a skilled labour, is fast becoming a
labour without the skill. The modern steamship with her many holds
is not loaded within the sailor-like meaning of the word. She is
filled up. Her cargo is not stowed in any sense; it is simply