And there undoubtedly were. Up in the game room, where the men can play billiards and pool, shuffleboard and checkers, there are always a few men playing chess, forgetting their problems in worrying maneuvres, shutting out the world of ships and storms. They seldom resent actively the interruptions by zealous billiard experts, who want to tell the whole game room about a brilliant play, or the shouts of the boys learning to play pool and arguing over the numbered balls. For the most part, they pursue their intellectual way, serenely content. In a building of this sort, to which men from every remote corner of the world are constantly coming, no day is ever monotonous. For the past few months shipwrecked crews, crews who were paid off in San Francisco and sent to us en route for Holland or Russia, have crowded the elastic institute. It was necessary to build a bulkhead in the game room to take off about one-quarter of the size of the room and fit it up with double-decker cots, thus giving room for one hundred additional men in an emergency. Fifty-four Russian sailors arrived the week before Christmas, adapting themselves with surprising promptness to the crowded conditions. They were so glad to be where it was warm and light and amusing that they would not have cared whether they had rooms or dormitory beds, as long as they had shelter, a little place to hang their ribboned caps and a few cups of coffee. APPRENTICE BOYS FROM A TORPEDOED VESSEL These youngsters in the British Merchant Service have a room of their own and a special "Big Brother" at the Institute. Two or three days after the Russians came six apprentice boys got in from a Southern port, sent especially to the Institute by a confiding British Consul.. "It is a capacity house," insisted the desk man, but the House Mother sought the hospitable superintendent, Dr. Mansfield, who has never been known to turn away a seaman if he needed the Institute's shelter, and any possible way could be devised. "Those six boys can't be turned away on a cold night in a strange city," he said, thoughtfully, and then he remembered something. The young apprentices were put on the thirteenth floor in beds set aside for the use of the house clinic. They slept beneath the glass roof, closer to the sky than they had ever been before, delighted with the splendid New York which unfolded itself for them in the morning. A few days later a crew of thirty-six men and officers, sent here on a boat injured in the Halifax explosion, arrived. Extra doubledecker cots were erected on the thirteenth floor and the first Egyptian seamen ever quartered in the building spent a month at the Institute. They were all Mohammedans but one—a Coptic Christian-and the Institute was hourly expecting his demise. When his comrades faced the East upon their minute prayer rugs he looked the other way, but nobody minded. Very likely Orientals are becoming more tolerant in their attitude toward the proper worship of Allah, or, perhaps, the war, which has united so many peoples in common causes, has united them, too. These men had to be brought to the Institute because there was no coal on board the ship. One of them said that although they had been two miles from Halifax when the explosion occurred he had been knocked off his chair by the force of the vibration. A small part of what the war has brought to the Institute are these extra guests, these suddenly arriving crews. Every available inch of space in the thirteen stories above the ground and the three below the street is being utilized. On the very top of the building are the new classrooms of the Navigation and Marine Engineering School, where seamen are studying to take their mate's and master's licenses. This school, unique in its location on the harbor's edge, has a ship's bridge, a chart room, a practical steering-wheel. Observations can be taken, the use of all nautical instruments explained and demonstrated, pupils can be instructed in every branch of navigation. The school is teaching the ambitious seaman that he can learn, that he can make progress, that he need not be content to stay meekly where he began. That is the thing for which the Institute itself has always stood, the belief in going forward, in constantly growing. It is, of course, the reason that with 2,000 seamen going in and out of the building each day, with 600 men sleeping there each night, the great Institute is already feeling itself too small to meet the demands of the merchant mariners. Merchant mariners! Seamen! They are words to conjure with these days. These are the men who are the vital actors in the world drama. They are the soldiers of the sea. They go about their business quietly, carrying cargoes of food and clothing, ammunition and troops. They are torpedoed, they lose their dunnage, they come back to port, get fresh supplies and sign on for new voyages. "Are you waiting for a ship?" Dr. Mansfield asked a boy of eighteen, who was standing by one of the lobby windows, looking through the forests of masts toward the open sea. "Yes, sir," the boy answered. "I was torpedoed three times last year, and when I first got back here I thought I might take a job on land. But I've been to see the shipping man twice today. I want to get back on a vessel and see what happens." That is the spirit seen in these men-the desire to go on doing their work, helping to make the war come out right. They come to the Institute, fresh memories of days in open lifeboats still in their minds, recollections of terror and cold and the certain knowledge that these things can be repeated, but they sign on again. They sign on because that is their business and they are a sturdy lot. They know how to brave the submarined sea, hoping always for a little luck, and a little pleasure when they are on shore. A complete lighthouse, with a gallery, displaying the only green light on the coast. It has a Time-ball which drops each day at noon when the signal is received from Washington. And if the Institute did nothing else it would do this one thing. It can give the seaman a place to rest and read and laugh, to talk with his friends, with other men in the same profession, the same trade. It gives him the chance to attend services in the language of his religion. Russians and Scandinavians and English are offered that consolation which they seek increasingly now that a certain sobriety has crept into their hearts. In the Institute's Chapel of Our Saviour a new choir has been installed with special music. Organ recitals are given; at New Year's time the dean of the Russian Cathedral came down to administer the holy sacrament to the Russian crews. There has been a spiritual demand arising perforce from the stress of time, and the Institute has met it without ostentation, without forcing any threadbare traditions upon men who are suspicious of "missions." As the heading of this sketch of days down on the water front, we wrote, "Where Do Merchant Mariners Live?" But that wasn't exactly what we meant to answer. Merchant Mariners, as many of them as are fortunate enough to apply for rooms by 2 o'clock in the afternoon, can live at the Institute, get ships through the shipping department, buy clothes at the slop chest-the little department store for seamen on the main floor-have their clothes cleaned and pressed in the tailor shop. They can carry on their lives without ever leaving the building. They can go to school, go to first aid lectures, hear noonday talks, with music twice a week. But what we meant to answer was, "How Do Merchant Mariners Think?" My Declaration of Faith I declare on my faith and honor that I will devote my best ability to the maintenance of the ascendancy of the United States of America in all matters connected with the Maritime Independence of the United States, its Foreign Trade, Banking, Shipping, Marine Insurance and Naval Defense, and that, consistently with my allegiance to the Government of this Republic I will promote with discretion and fidelity the above objects. I further promise that to the best of my ability I will not allow the selfish desires of capital or labor, of partisan politicians or seamen or officers, to frustrate the Maritime expansion of America. At present, however, the sea and the ships that go thereon have come to their own. The popular interest and imagination have been shocked into a new attention to marine matters. It is hoped therefore that the attempt from month to month of the man in the Crow's Nest to give the readers of THE NATIONAL MARINE a somewhat broad outlook upon the events in the Marine world will be worthwhile. In this connection the editor of this section asks the cooperation of the members of the League and the readers of THE NATIONAL MARINE. He will be glad to receive news of striking events for these columns, matters of human interest and of anecdotal character, as well as briefly stated opinions and convictions. Of course, these communications should be signed, but if the writer prefers not to have his or her name or initials placed after the communication, it is requested that this be stated when the items. are forwarded. As it is desired to make this vision from the mast head a comprehensive one, it is hoped that our readers from the widely scattered sections of the earth will consider themselves associate editors of this department. Secretary Daniels' statement made not long ago at the Annapolis graduation of 300 men may well cause critics of the Government to stop and ponder the achievements of the past eighteen months. These 300 Annapolis graduates, successfully completing a fourteen weeks course, were told that each one would find an important assignment awaiting them. The total of "7700 officers and men (800 officers and 6,900 men) in the present United States Naval Reserve," according to Secretary Daniels, "is larger than the regular navy when war was declared, and three times as large as in the Spanish war." One of the far reaching results of the War, too near now for correct perspective or even certain prediction, will be associated with the century-old controversy that has surged about Constantinople. Although Sir Edward Grey voiced British opinion at the opening of the War by declaring his sympathy with Russian aspirations regarding Constantinople and a southern port for Russia, the recent trend of events in Russia has transformed somewhat that country's political and marine outlook. At the same time, Turkey has given strong reason why she should be dispossessed of her stewardship, fullfilled so doubtfully-as her attitude, especially to the Armenians, has signified in this war. The historian and student of the great changes of the day may well ask: Was the Treaty of Paris made by the Powers and recognizing Turkey's independence and guaranteeing her political integrity a political mistake? Does the Sublime Porte belong in the realm of the international law of Europe? Should not Constantinople and the Dardanelles be open unrestrictedly to world commerce? Would not the neutralization of these waterways bring a new freedom not only to Russia but to all the Near East? Would not this be in line with the Wilsonian idea of free and unrestricted waterways for the service of mankind? It is a great virtue to be definite. We heard an amusing story recently in which the wife of a somewhat shiftless and ne'er-do-well husband was asked how her man, who had been sick for some time, was getting on. She answered, "Oh, he is just lingering alonglingering along-sometimes I wish that he would do something definite." Wisconsin at last has done something defin |