HELP FROM INSENSIBLE SEAS

Suppose one has been at sea a month. He has tacked to every point of
the compass, been driven by gales, becalmed in doldrums. At length
Euroclydon leaps on him, and he lets her drive. And when for many days
and nights neither sun nor stars appear, how can he tell where he is,
which way he drives, where the land lies?

There is an insensible ocean. No sense detects its presence. It has
gulf streams that flow through us, storms whose waves engulf us, but we
feel them not. There are various intensities of its power, the north
end of the world not having half as much as the south. There are two
places in the north half of the world that have greater intensity than
the rest, and only one in the south. It looks as if there were
unsoundable depths in some places and shoals in others.

The currents do not flow in exactly the same direction all the time,
but their variations are within definite limits.

How shall we detect these steady currents when wind and waves are in
tumultuous confusion? They are always present. No winds blow them
aside, no waves drench their subtle fire, no mountains make them
swerve. But how shall we find them?

Float a bit of magnetic ore in a pail of water, or suspend a bit of
magnetized steel by a thread, and these currents make the ore or needle
point north and south. Now let waves buffet either side, typhoons
roar, and maelstroms whirl; we have, out of the invisible, insensible
sea of magnetic influence, a sure and steady guide. Now we can sail
out of sight of headlands. We have in the darkness and light, in calm