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from all problems of manoeuvring, of rules of the road, of the judgment of the men in command, away from their possible errors and from the points the Court will have to decide, if we ask ourselves what it was that was needed to avert this disaster costing so many lives, spreading so much sorrow, and to a certain point shocking the public conscience — if we ask that question, what is the answer to be?
    I hardly dare set it down.  Yes; what was it that was needed, what ingenious combinations of ship-building, what transverse bulkheads, what skill, what genius — how much expense in money and trained thinking, what learned contriving, to avert that disaster?
    To save that ship, all these lives, so much anguish for the dying, and so much grief for the bereaved, all that was needed in this particular case in the way of science, money, ingenuity, and seamanship was a man, and a cork-fender.
    Yes; a man, a quartermaster, an able seaman that would know how to jump to an order and was not an excitable fool.  In my time at sea there was no lack of men in British ships who could jump to an order and were not excitable fools.  As to the so-called cork-fender, it is a sort of soft balloon made from a net of thick rope rather more than a foot in diameter.  It is such a long time since I have indented for cork-fenders that I don’t remember how much these things cost apiece.  One of them, hung judiciously over the side at the end of its lanyard by a man who knew what he was about, might perhaps have saved from destruction the ship and upwards of a thousand lives.
    Two men with a heavy rope-fender would have been better, but even the other one might have made all the difference between a very damaging accident and downright disaster.  By the time the cork-fender had been squeezed between the liner’s side and the bluff of the Storstad’s bow, the effect of the latter’s reversed propeller would have been produced, and the ships would have come apart with no more damage than bulged and started plates.  Wasn’t there lying about on that liner’s bridge, fitted with all sorts of scientific contrivances, a couple of simple and effective cork-fenders — or on board of that Norwegian either?  There must have been, since one ship was just out of a dock or harbour and the other just arriving.  That is the time, if ever, when cork-fenders are lying about a ship’s decks.  And there was plenty of time to use them, and exactly in the conditions in which such fenders are effectively used.  The water was as smooth as in any dock; one ship was motionless, the other just moving at what may be called dock-speed when entering, leaving, or shifting berths; and from the moment the collision was seen to be unavoidable till the actual contact a whole minute elapsed.  A minute, — an age under the circumstances.  And no one thought of the homely expedient of dropping a simple, unpretending rope-fender between the destructive stern and the defenceless side!
    I appeal confidently to all the seamen in the still United Kingdom, from his Majesty the King (who has been really at sea) to the youngest intelligent A.B. in any ship that will dock next tide in the ports of this realm, whether there was not a chance there.  I have followed the sea for more than twenty years; I have seen collisions; I have been involved in a collision myself; and I do believe that in the case under consideration this little thing would have made all that enormous difference — the difference between considerable damage and an appalling disaster.
    Many letters have been written to the Press on the subject of collisions.  I have seen some.  They contain many suggestions, valuable and otherwise; but there is only one which hits the nail on the head.  It is a letter to the Times from a retired Captain of the Royal Navy.  It is printed in small type, but it deserved to be printed in letters of gold and crimson.  The writer suggests that all steamers should be obliged by law to carry hung over their stern what we at sea call a “pudding.”
    This solution of the problem is as wonderful in its simplicity as the celebrated trick of Columbus’s egg, and infinitely more useful to mankind.  A “pudding” is a thing something like a bolster of stout rope-net stuffed with old junk, but thicker in the middle than at the ends.  It can be seen on almost every tug working in our docks.  It is, in fact, a fixed rope-fender always in a position where presumably