YACHTING WRINKLES.
OUTING LIBRARY OF SPORT.
YACHTING WRINKLES
A PRACTICAL AND HISTORICAL HANDBOOK OF VALUABLE INFORMATION FOR THE
RACING AND CRUISING YACHTSMAN.
BY
CAPTAIN A. J. KENEALY,
Author of “Boat Sailing, Fair Weather and Foul,” “Yacht Races for the
America’s Cup,” Etc., Etc.
Wrinkle—Something Worth Knowing.—Nautical Lexicon.
[Illustration: [Logo]]
With Apposite Anecdotes, Diagrams and Illustrations.
OUTING PUBLISHING CO.,
NEW YORK. LONDON.
COPYRIGHTED BY B. J. WORMAN, 1899.
NEW YORK
PREFACE.
The kind reception given by yachtsmen generally to “Boat Sailing, Fair
Weather and Foul,” has induced me to embark in a new venture. The
following “Wrinkles,” gleaned from practical experience, observation and
study, are printed in the hope that they may prove of interest and value
to lovers of sailing craft.
I want to warn off literary critics by the frank admission that I am not
worthy of their steel, being an old sailor who went to sea when he was
thirteen, and spent many years afloat where books were scarce. So far as
yachting critics or nautical experts are concerned, I must let my work
speak for itself. If it has no other merit, it has at least been
conscientiously done.
A. J. KENEALY.
_New York, March, 1899._
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
YACHT RACING AS A SPORT—Brief Review of the Fascinating Pastime
From Its Inception to the Present Time 13
CHAPTER II.
THE RACING YACHT—Some Remarks on the Material, Construction and
Selection of a Vessel 47
CHAPTER III.
THE TYPE OF YACHT—What Shall She Be—Keel, Centreboard or Bulb-fin? 78
CHAPTER IV.
FITTING OUT AND TUNING UP—Hints As to Going Into Commission and
Making the Craft Fit For a Race 130
CHAPTER V.
DUTY AND DISCIPLINE AFLOAT—The Ship’s Company in Detail From the
Skipper Down to the Sea Cook 166
CHAPTER VI.
A DOWN-TO-DATE YACHT RACE—In Which May Be Found Some Noteworthy
Examples of the Sea-Jockey’s Art 192
CHAPTER VII.
RACING RULES AND THE RULE OF THE ROAD—Some Important Points That
Amateurs and Professionals Should Bear in Mind 215
CHAPTER VIII.
EVOLUTION OF THE RACER—How Tonnage and Measurement Rules Have
Affected Form in America and Great Britain 225
CHAPTER IX.
THE ETIQUETTE OF YACHTING—What is Considered to Be “Good Form” in
Craft, Owner and Crew 261
CHAPTER X.
YACHTING INSURANCE—Also a Few Legal Wrinkles on the Status and
Relation of Owner to Crew 272
CHAPTER XI.
THE COST OF YACHTING—Cautionary and Economical Hints to Those About
to Embark in the Sport 282
CHAPTER XII.
THE LAST WORD—Final hints to tars who want to sail their own craft 292
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
Frontispiece, “With Topmasts Housed,” 12
Jason’s Yacht _Argo_, 15
Viking Ship, 20
Flagship of Columbus, 25
Dutch Yacht of Seventeenth Century, 28
Commodore John C. Stevens, 31
_Gimcrack_ and _Maria_, 34
_America_, 1851, 38
_Maria_, 1851, 38
_America’s_ Lines, 39
The Cutter _Oriva_, 48
_Vigilant_ in Dry-dock, 51
_Uncas_ in Frame, 55
Interior of _Uncas_, 60
Form of _Uncas_, 60
_Uncas_ on the Ways, 66
_Ouananiche_, 71
_Dragon III._, 75
_Gloriana_, 79
_Madge_, 82
Germ of the Centerboard, 84
_Vesta_, 85
_Athlon_, 94
Catboat _Dorothy_, 101
_Kewaydin_, 103
The Herreshoff Catboat _Wanda_, 104
Lines of _Evolution_, 107
Lines of _Jullanar_, 108
Lines of _Niagara_, 110
Lines of _Jubilee_, 110
Mid-section of _Dilemma_, 110
English Finkeel Freak _Nameless_, 111
Lines of _Rocket_, 112
_Niagara’s_ Midship Section, 113
_Niagara_ Under Sail, 114
_Rorqual_, 116
_Dad_, 117
_Vesper_, 117
Monstrosity _Skate_, 118
_Dominion_ on Even Keel, 121
_Dominion_ Heeled, 121
_Dominion_ Under Sail, 123
Double-huller of the Pacific., 126
Sloop _Gracie_, 133
Schooner _Sappho_, 134
Cutter _Genesta_, 135
Schooner _Colonia_, 137
Rig of Cutter Showing Masthead Shroud, 139
Rig and Sail Plan of _Uncas_, 145
Mastheads of _Uncas_, 147–8
Cutter _Minerva_, 150
Sail Plan of _Ethelwynn_., 152
Half-rater _Spruce IV._, 153
Fifteen-footer _Ethelwynn_., 153
Forty-footer _Gossoon_, 161
_America_, 1899, 165
_Phantom_, 193
_Ghost_, 199
A Stern Chase, 201
_Vigilant_, 224
_Defender_ in Dry-dock, 227
_Thistle_, now _Comète_, 230
_Volunteer_, 231
_Valkyrie III._ in Dry-dock, 233
_Ellen_, Twenty-rater, 235
Cutter’s Bow and Stern, 1892, 237
English Mid-sections, 238
Mid-sections of Cup Contestants, 239
_Volunteer_ and _Thistle_, 241
_Vigilant_ and _Valkyrie II._, 241
_Valkyrie II._, 243
_Valkyrie III._, Stern View, 245
Modern Type of Fin, 246
_Defender_ and _Valkyrie III._, 246
Hoisting _Defender’s_ Mainsail, 247
_Defender_ Under Brooklyn Bridge, 251
_Defender_ Under Sail, 255
_Valkyrie III._ Under Sail, 259
_Defender’s_ Stern, 271
[Illustration:
“WITH TOPMASTS HOUSED.”
]
I.
YACHT RACING AS A SPORT.
BRIEF REVIEW OF THE FASCINATING PASTIME FROM ITS INCEPTION TO THE
PRESENT TIME.
About half a century ago, when I wasn’t so gray and grizzled as I am
now, I was shipmate with John Gulliver, an ancient mariner who fully
believed in the doctrine of the transmigration of souls. He used to spin
the most wonderful yarns. He had in former incarnations animated the
body of a whale, a green turtle and a sea-gull. He had also been cabin
boy on the good ship _Ark_. He declared that, of all the skippers he had
ever sailed under, Captain Noah was the strictest.
During the brief but memorable voyage of that historic craft, the crew,
he declared, never once got an afternoon watch below. When they weren’t
feeding the live stock they were kept busy on deck cleaning brasswork
and hauling taut the lee crossjack brace. He said he felt very glad when
the time came for the crew to be paid off. He had grown weary of the
weevily biscuits and the tough salt junk. There were no “manavellings”
aboard the tarnation hooker and the Old Man only served out rum once
during the voyage, and that was when the _Ark_ was hove-to under a
goose-winged maintopsail and foretopmast staysail in the latitude and
longitude of Mount Ararat, waiting for the dove to come aboard.
I remember I used to listen with my mouth wide open to the marvelous
stories of this old salt. I once asked him to describe the interior
fittings of Captain Noah’s ship, but from what I could gather from him
there wasn’t much gilt gingerbread work in her main saloon. Everything
was for use; nothing for ornament. There weren’t even brass hoops on the
mess kids. Besides, she leaked like a sieve and wouldn’t steer well
unless close-hauled on a bowline.
The ship _Argo_, in which Jason sailed in search of the Golden Fleece,
had no artistic decorations below, but her hull, from all accounts, was
a “dandy.” Built of lofty pines which flourished on Mount Pelion, she
was pierced for fifty oars. She was daubed with coal-black pitch, and
her bows were painted with vermilion. I don’t believe she ever made more
than four knots an hour, even with fifty heroes pulling their hardest at
the oars, all keeping time to the music of the harp of Orpheus, who had
too much low cunning to do any work himself. The _Argo_ was a yacht
manned by Corinthians and the first one that ever sailed on the Euxine,
vulgarly known as the Black Sea. So far as I know, there are no
photographs extant of her interior, but judging from the log of her
voyage she had a fine galley on deck, in which her crew of heroes used
to cook the choice parts of swine and deer for their own use, offering
up the offal as a sacrifice to the immortal gods—a circumstance showing
that the ancient mariners were just as level-headed as the down-to-date
seamen of to-day.
[Illustration:
JASON’S YACHT “ARGO.”
]
The handsome barges which belonged to the high civilization of ancient
Egypt used to ply on the muddy waters of the Nile, and highly ornate
vessels they were, manned by fifty rowers. They had sails of crimson
silk, richly embroidered. Their cabins were sumptuous, spacious and
luxurious, gold, silver and precious stones being used lavishly in their
decoration. In such a stately craft Cleopatra and Mark Antony passed
many halcyon hours of splendid ease and amorous dalliance. The Romans
and Carthaginians had their pleasure craft, and so had the Greeks and
Venetians.
It was the custom of the Romans to hold regattas of biremes and
triremes, and according to the chronicles a good deal of money changed
hands over the results. Every schoolboy remembers the exciting boat race
between those gallant Trojan captains, Cloanthus and Sergestus, so ably
reported by one Vergil. I know that I can never forget it. That regatta
cost me many a cruel birching. In these competitions oars only were
used. I fancy that sails were not set in those days except when the wind
blew abaft the beam, the ancients not being well versed in the art of
beating to windward. The swift ships in which Father Æneas, his faithful
Achates and his devoted followers, fled from Troy, had, I suppose, but
scanty cabin accommodations; and when bold Pilot Palinurus glanced at
the compass to see if the helmsman was steering a correct course, no
highly polished brass binnacle reflected that skillful old navigator’s
bronzed and bearded face.
The flagship of Columbus may fairly be classed with the _Argo_, and so
may the Norse galley which brought to the rugged New England coast those
hardy salts who built the windmill at Newport and left their indelible
marks on the primeval granite rocks of that region.
The Dutch, I think, were the inventors of the sailing yacht proper, and
from Holland the finest diversion in the world spread to Great Britain,
and became the sport of kings. Quaint old Pepys, in his diary, tells us
of a sailing yacht named _Mary_, which was presented by the Dutch East
India Company to King Charles II. in the year 1661. Charles was a
tip-top yachtsman, the merry monarch being never sick at sea. His yacht
_Mary_ was beaten by another pleasure craft of English design, the match
being the first between sailing yachts in the history of the pastime in
England. According to Pepys, the _Mary_ was snug and cozy below, quite
comfortable, but not at all luxurious. The king cruised much in her up
and down the English Channel in the palmy days of his reign.
Three hundred years before, when Marino Faliero was Doge of Venice, a
merchant prince of that state originated pleasure sailing on the
peaceful Adriatic. A Dutchman called Van Kompf transferred the craft to
the German Ocean, and gave it the name of yacht. To the Dutch and
Scandinavian strain in the English blood is owing that passion for the
sea which has made yachting so favorite a recreation in Great Britain.
Our own love for the sport is doubtless derived from the same source.
Turning to our own land the beginnings are naturally more definite. We
know the exact facts, for the New York Yacht Club was organized aboard
Mr. John C. Stevens’ schooner _Gimcrack_ on July 30, 1844, the
_Gimcrack_ being at anchor off the Battery. In those days there were but
few yachts, and most of them were small. The fittings of pleasure craft
were then simple and inexpensive, when compared with the luxurious and
costly appointments of the palatial vessels which are our pride to-day.
The old _Maria_, which was the last yacht owned by Commodore Stevens,
would not rank very high in the present fleet of magnificent steamers,
schooners, sloops and cutters. She was the finest and fastest yacht of
her day, having many of what are now termed “modern improvements,” such
as outside lead, a heavily weighted main centerboard, also a forward
centerboard, a hollow main boom ninety-five feet long and nine feet in
circumference at its greatest girth, built of white oak staves, with
doweled and keyed edges, iron bands and longitudinal iron trusses. Her
main sheet was fitted with a rubber compressor.
Her former sailing-master is on record as saying: “She would work within
seven points, and I have sailed her seventeen knots. On her trial trip
with the _America_ along the beach we beat her so badly that Mr. Stevens
was in doubt whether it was good policy to send her to England; but as
she defeated all the others by as much as we beat her, it was finally
decided she ought to go.”
The _Maria_ is said to have cost $100,000, a vast sum in those days even
for Mr. Stevens, who owned nearly all Weehawken and Hoboken. It must be
remembered, however, that she was continually being altered and
improved, no expense being spared. The equipments and cabin fittings of
all the pleasure craft of that period were plain and economical. The
greater part of their cost was expended on hulls, spars and rigging,
which were of the best material. The age was not so luxurious as it is
to-day. Though bronze and aluminum hulls, steel booms, wire rigging,
silken sails, and the one hundred and one “fads,” patented and
otherwise, which are now considered indispensable for racing were
unknown, the yachts cost a pretty round sum, but merely a trifle
compared with the crack clippers of this year of grace.
[Illustration:
THE VIKING SHIP.
]
The cabins of those yachts were not finished in costly hard woods carved
by artists and highly polished. No upholstery of silken plush or
hangings of rich tapestry were to be seen. Sperm oil in brass lamps of
no particular design illuminated the space below. The fare, too, was
plain and simple. Little or no wine of costly vintage was consumed.
Honest claret, mellow Medford rum, and fine old whisky were the staple
beverages with which those sturdy salts moistened their clay, while they
solaced their souls with Virginia tobacco smoked in pipes of quaint
Dutch shape. It is needless to say that the “400” of half a century ago
didn’t carry their valets with them while cruising on the Sound or while
sailing to Cape May.
The old course of the club was from the club-house in the Elysian
Fields, Hoboken, out to the Southwest Spit and back. The yachts, as a
rule, were sailed by amateurs. No uniform was worn in those primitive
days, and there was no red tape whatever. But it is questionable if a
finer class of amateurs ever existed than those men who sailed the
yachts of the club during the first twenty years of its history.
If some of those sturdy salts who flourished in the good old days of our
famous schooner _America_ could rise from their snuggeries in the
cemeteries and sail on the squadron cruise of the New York Yacht Club
next August, I would promise them a spectacle which would astonish them.
I would first point out to them in Glen Cove a fleet of more than one
hundred yachts, comprising some of the finest steam and sailing craft in
the world. I would next call attention to the fairy-like electric,
steam, and naphtha launches darting between the ships and the shore,
some of them laden with ladies of bewitching loveliness, dressed so
saucily and coquettishly in nautical raiment as to make a bachelor’s
mouth water.
I would next take my resurrected friends in a naphtha launch on board
one of the big steam yachts, and while on their way thither they would
marvel at the handiness and speed of the little boat which carried them.
If it was the flagship _Corsair_ they visited, her owner would be sure
to have the side piped in true man-o’-war fashion in honor of the
old-time salts. Climbing up the gangway ladder, walking aft on the snowy
deck, they would be invited below, to the hospitality of the _Corsair_,
which they would indeed be loath to leave.
I might then possibly convoy them aboard the big racing schooner
_Colonia_ and the new cup defender, and, after gazing upon these two
marine marvels, you might wager that the old chaps would make a vigorous
kick against returning to their little grass-covered beds.
While rummaging over some musty documents in the library of an old
seafaring friend the other day, I happened to come across some
interesting memoranda concerning the good old schooner _Gimcrack_, the
first flagship of the New York Yacht Club. From these items I gather
that she was fitted with a fixed centerboard of heavy plate iron, four
feet deep and fifteen feet long, resembling the fin of to-day, but minus
the bulb of lead on the base. This is another exemplification of the
truth of the old adage that there is nothing new under the sun.
The pastime which was so ably started by those old and gallant sportsmen
has prospered beyond belief, and no wonder, for yacht racing, in my
judgment, is the most fascinating and wholesome sport in the world. Its
devotees are actuated by no mercenary or money-making motives, but
follow the pastime for the many delights its pursuit affords. The
praiseworthy ambition that has for its goal the winning of sea trophies
is devoid of all craving after filthy lucre, because the prizes
obtained, no matter whether in cash or plate, are trifling in comparison
with the first cost of the yacht and the incidental expenses of running
her. There are many other reasons that may be adduced to prove that the
pastime excels all others; but, in my opinion, the most convincing
argument that can be urged is that no scandal has ever sullied the fair
name of the sport, and that its followers the wide world over are the
best fellows that breathe—generous, hearty and manly—the salt of the
earth, in fact.
It is a sport in which the element of gambling rarely enters, except in
the case of international events, when patriotic pride impels men to
back their country’s flag with a modest wager. I have been a close
student of yachting lore for more years than I care to recall, but I
know of no instance where yacht racing has made a financial wreck of one
of its faithful adherents. Of what other gentlemanly sport can as much
be truthfully alleged?
If a rich man has sons with a leaning toward yachting he should
encourage its complete development. I know of no better school for the
cultivation of all manly virtues. There is no question concerning its
healthfulness, but my contention is that a man’s moral tone as well as
his physical constitution improves by association with the sea.
Self-reliance, quickness of decision, action and resource, bravery and
personal endurance, are qualities necessary for success in life. Where
can all these desirable characteristics be acquired with more ease and
greater satisfaction than on a racing vessel, preferably one of moderate
size manned exclusively by amateurs or with the aid of one paid hand?
[Illustration: [The Flagship of Columbus]]
It may properly be remarked that the love of boating is innate and can
never be acquired. The mere sight of the sea has an attraction to the
true son of Neptune as cogent as that of the magnet to the pole. He
eagerly desires to be afloat on it, and can sympathize with Charles
Lever, who once said he would rather have a plank for a boat and a
handkerchief for a sail than resign himself to give up boating
altogether. The man who has not the nautical instinct can never come to
regard a boat with more affection than he does a horse-car. When you
rave ecstatically of the virtues of your little ship he feels inclined
to think that you must be half crazy. You can never make a yachtsman out
of material such as this. We cannot all be sailors, so therefore let the
cobbler stick to his last and the cook to the foresheet, where he
belongs!
The deduction from the above is that you should be careful as to the
choice of your seagoing chum. The most congenial companion ashore may
prove an insufferable bore afloat. And to tell the truth, you ought not
to blame him for the lack of the nautical instinct, but rather yourself
for inviting a person lacking that saving qualification to go sailing
with you. _Nauticus nascitur, non fit_ is a true adage. There is a huge
army of our fellow creatures who think with Dr. Johnson that the
pleasure of going to sea is getting ashore again from a prison, where
there is also the risk of getting drowned. But a far brighter literary
light than he, Thomas Carlyle, to wit, the crabbed, the cynic, who was
ever ready to use his mordant pen of wormwood in holding up to
execration the foibles and the sins of humanity ashore, was always blind
to the faults of his fellow-man afloat. The acrid gall of his being,
induced by the horrors of chronic dyspepsia, was converted into milk and
honey by the magic influence of the Ocean.
Who can forget the account of his trip to Ostend and back in the revenue
cutter _Vigilant_ in 1842? He described the craft as a smart little trim
ship of some 250 tons, rigged, fitted, kept and navigated in the highest
style of English seacraft, made every way for sailing fast that she may
catch smugglers. Outside and inside, in furniture, equipment, action and
look, she seemed a model, clean as a lady’s work-box.
[Illustration:
DUTCH YACHT OF 17TH CENTURY.
]
His biographer, Froude, has told, of their return trip, how at midnight
they were in their berths aboard the _Vigilant_ running out into the
North Sea: “The wind fell in the morning and they were becalmed. They
sighted the North Foreland before night, but the air was still light,
and it was not till the next day that they were fairly in the river.
Then a rattling breeze sprang up and the _Vigilant_, with her vast
mainsail, her vast balloon jib, with all the canvas set which she could
carry, flew through the water, passing sailing vessels, passing
steamers, passing everything. They carried on as if they were entered
for a racing cup. The jib, of too light material for such hard driving,
split with a report like a cannon. Carlyle saw the ‘Captain’s eyes
twinkle; no other change.’ In ten minutes the flying wreck was gathered
in, another jib was set and standing in place of it, and the yacht sped
on as before. ‘To see men so perfect in their craft, fit for their work,
and fitly ordered to it,’ was a real consolation to him. There was
something still left in the public service of England which had survived
Parliamentary eloquence. They entered at Deptford and the gig was
lowered to take the party up to London.
“Five rowers with a boatswain; men unsurpassable, I do not doubt, in
boat navigation; strong, tall men, all clean shaved, clean washed, in
clean blue trousers, in massive clean check shirts, their black
neckcloths tied round their waists, their large, clean brown hands,
cunning in the craft of the sea—it was a kind of joy to look at it all.
In a few minutes they shot us into the Custom House stairs, and here,
waving our mild farewells, our travel’s history concluded. Thus had kind
destiny projected us rocket-wise for a little space into the clear blue
of heaven and freedom. Thus again were we swiftly reabsorbed into the
great, smoky, simmering crater, and London’s soot volcano had again
re-covered us.”
I am sure my readers will pardon me for quoting at such length from
Carlyle, if only for the reason that the matter I reproduce is far more
interesting than any I can originate. Besides, I need the extract to
emphasize my argument concerning the healthful moral tonic of my
much-loved sea. Here is atrabilious, doleful, indignant, and scornful
Carlyle cured temporarily of all his mental disorders by a rattling run
across the North Sea and back. He lands in a delightful frame of mind,
and has nothing but the most pleasant reminiscences of the _Vigilant_,
her skipper and her crew. The readers of his stories of other journeys
by land will appreciate the surprising contrast.
Very few men go into yachting for the advertisement that it may offer.
It is always possible for some seller of quack medicines to achieve
cheap notoriety by claiming that he is about to build a yacht to defend
or capture the _America’s_ Cup. If he uses diligently whatever art of
claptrap he is endowed with he will find numbers of newspapers gullible
enough to give him columns and columns of gratuitous puffs. The public
may be beguiled for a time into the belief that his intentions are
really honest; but the experienced yachtsman will not be deceived for a
moment, as he knows that no yacht club of repute will father the
challenge of such a person, even in the unlikely event of his building a
yacht for the purpose of a real race. Yacht clubs on both sides of the
Atlantic, to their credit, fight very shy of such queer customers.
[Illustration:
COMMODORE JOHN C. STEVENS, The Father of American Yachting.
]
Thus it is that the sport is confined to gentlemen; nautical blacklegs,
blackguards, and “welshers” being unknown. The membership committees of
the clubs are very discriminating and cautious as to those whom they
admit; and even if a “black sheep” succeeds in entering the flock his
presence is soon discovered, and he quietly learns that his room is more
desirable than his company. His resignation follows as a matter of
course.
A yacht club composed principally of men who love the sport for the
precious gifts it offers, and not for fashion’s sake, or because “It’s
the proper caper, you know, to belong to a yacht club, don’t you see?”
is an excellent school for a young man, both morally and physically. In
the arena of professional sport, as we all know, objectionable
characters, unhappily, fairly swarm. It would be invidious to
particularize or to single out any one sport as being remarkable from
the number of black sheep among its adherents. But of yachting it may
truly be said that the pastime never has been disgraced or degraded by
the professional hands necessarily employed in its service. Officers and
men before the mast quickly realize that good conduct is the only secret
of success, that braggarts and bullies have no place in its symmetry,
and that dishonesty of any kind, whether selling a race or robbing a
yacht owner, is quickly detected and punished. I have never known an
instance of the first-named disgraceful offence, and the lack of it
speaks volumes in behalf of the honor and integrity of yacht skippers
the wide world over. Be it remembered that for a sailing-master to lose
a race would be as easy as for a jockey to so ride a horse that in spite
of his gameness or his speed he could not possibly win. Scandals such as
in the past have made the turf a byword are happily unknown in yacht
racing. In all my experience of yachtsmen I never heard one of them, in
his most open and confidential moods, with his mind mellowed with grog,
boast of winning a race by unfair or questionable methods.
Many stockbrokers race their yachts, and, although the Stock Exchange is
supposed to have a peculiar effect on the moral tone of its members, yet
when these gentlemen engage in a yacht race they display the nicest
honor, the most chivalrous conduct toward their adversaries, that is
indeed most admirable to contemplate. Lawyers, too, who in the exercise
of their profession are full of wiles and stratagems, lose their chief
characteristics when they enter their yacht club or get aboard their
yachts. The transformation is magical. You fail to recognize in the
bluff, open and honest sea-dog in his natty suit of serge the shrewd
gentleman of the long robe who, with his quips and his quirks and his
long list of precedents and his unfailing gift of the gab, has just
succeeded in making the Supreme Court of the United States feel
exquisitely unhappy. Talk of Aladdin’s lamp or any other famous storied
talisman as you please but, upon my word, the sea has worked more
wonders than them all!
There is much patriotism among our yachtsmen, the bulk of the Naval
Militia of the various States, possessing such a volunteer organization,
consisting of men who are devoted to the sport. That the United States
Government is much indebted to yachtsmen is now generously conceded by
our naval authorities, who, at the outset of the war with Spain, availed
themselves of a large fleet of steam yachts, which were transformed with
marvelous celerity into despatch boats, protected cruisers and torpedo
boat destroyers. They proved of immense service to the navy, as that arm
of our national defence was destitute of these almost indispensable
vessels. It may be truthfully alleged that the navy would have been in
an unpleasant predicament if it had not been possible to call upon the
steam yachting fleet of the Atlantic coast. The splendid achievement of
the converted yacht _Gloucester_, formerly the flagship of the New York
Yacht Club, which drove ashore two Spanish torpedo boat destroyers near
Santiago de Cuba on July 3, 1898, will always be remembered as one of
the most brilliant episodes of that “most just and charitable war.” She
was in command of Lieut.-Commander Wainwright, who was executive officer
of the _Maine_ when she was blown up in Havana harbor on February 15,
1898.
[Illustration:
“GIMCRACK” AND “MARIA.”
]
The generous response of the Naval Militia to the call of the President
and the eagerness of yachtsmen generally to recruit its ranks have been
highly appreciated. Yachtsmen will ever feel proud of the gallantry of
the Naval Militia because it is so largely composed of their shipmates
and messmates. It is needless to expatiate on the patriotic part of my
theme. The advantages of yachting as a nursery for the navy in war-time
are indisputable, and will occur to anybody who will give the matter due
reflection.
[Illustration:
“AMERICA,” 1851.
]
[Illustration:
“MARIA,” 1851.
]
The Corinthian Yacht Club of New York, now unhappily extinct, did
excellent work in its rather brief but not inglorious career. It
achieved much in the way of the abolition of the pernicious broad and
shallow type of boat which at the time of the Corinthian Club’s heyday
was extremely popular. I should be disingenuous were I not to confess
quite frankly that the extreme type of plank-on-edge cutters favored by
the leading lights of this club was, in my judgment, nearly as
objectionable as the class of craft it sought to supersede. But still it
must be said that the boat of to-day, which is a compromise between the
extremes mentioned, owes a share at least of its existence to the bold
efforts of the Corinthians. To abolish the “skimming dish” was one of
the chief aims of the club, and that it did yeoman’s service in that
direction was one of its greatest glories.
[Illustration:
“AMERICA’S” LINES.
]
An innovation made by this club was the establishment of cadets as
members. These cadets were the sons or relatives of members who took an
interest in the sport. They were entitled to many of the privileges of
their elders, including the right to wear the club button. It always
impressed me that the idea was a good one. I know of no other club that
has followed its example. Now that the ban against women has been
removed by half-a-dozen clubs of importance, Young America may also be
granted an opportunity to rise and shine. There is no doubt that the
average American boy is fond of a sailor’s life. It is also true that
some of the genus would hardly be a joy in the life of a yacht club if
admitted to cadetship. There is every likelihood, therefore, that it may
be long before the boy becomes an active participant in yachting, so far
as clubs are concerned. But I know several ambitious youths who can
handle their fathers’ vessels as well as a veteran, and who can be
depended on to enter into the vigorous practice of the sport as soon as
they get old enough to run their own affairs.
It is my intention to discuss in detail the cost of running a racing
yacht, in a subsequent chapter, but I may say in a general way that
capital sport may be had each season at a moderate outlay. There never
before were so many yacht clubs as there are to-day, and never has a
more intelligent interest been taken in the economical pursuit of
racing. _Defenders_, _Vigilants_, _Colonias_ and _Emeralds_ are vessels
beyond the reach of all but millionaires. It is only the very richest of
our fellow citizens who can enjoy the delights of racing these large and
costly vessels. But the popular restricted classes of 1899 offer
inducements that the ordinary man of affairs earning a moderate income
may easily avail himself of. Suppose that two chums, who have sailed
together long enough to find out that their idiosyncrasies of
disposition and temperament will allow them to dwell together in amity
afloat, form a marine partnership and buy jointly a knockabout or
raceabout for cup-hunting and cruising purposes. The first cost of the
boat, complete and delivered, might be $800. A second-hand boat might be
picked up much cheaper. The expense of keeping her in commission would
be modest. No paid hand would be necessary, and the boat might be so
moored that one of the club hands would keep a general watch on her to
see that no harm befell her in a summer storm, his recompense for this
being a generous “tip” at the end of the season.
In nearly all of the yacht clubs in the vicinity of the metropolis
special efforts are made to induce owners of small craft to join, and
there are facilities for the safe anchorage and also the hauling out of
the club’s mosquito squadron. In this the clubs act wisely, for the
small classes are really the life of the organization, which, without
their active interest, might stand a fair chance of perishing of
inanition.
Most pleasures are evanescent when compared with the comfort that a
sea-dog gets from fixing up his cabin for the season’s sport. The
ingenuity displayed in making the most of the necessarily limited
quarters at his disposal, the stowage of his “dunnage,” so as to be able
to put his hand on anything at a moment’s notice in the dark, the
capacity of creating a home-like interior out of chaotic surroundings,
call out every faculty.
The first sail on a new boat which is your very own causes a thrill of
joy. To see the noble craft respond to the slightest touch of the
tiller, to watch her gradually eat her way to windward in the teeth of a
merry breeze, with a shining furrow of foam in her wake and her sharp
cutwater cleaving the blue billows, and when, with sheet eased off and
wind abeam, her lee rail almost awash, she puts on an extra spurt—all
these are ecstatic raptures which your poor land-lubber has never
experienced.
Yachts are fickle jades, as all who have been victims of their whims and
humors must fain concede. It is no wonder that they belong to the
feminine gender. No coquette can be coyer or more difficult to please
than the highly strung racing yacht. On occasions it is hard to realize
that she is an inanimate fabric. I have known one to develop nerves and
even hysteria. It takes a man of great judgment and infinite tact and
good temper to get the best speed out of a modern racehorse.
Qualifications similar and quite as highly developed are necessary to
the successful yacht skipper, be he amateur or be he professional.
The ambition to excel in the art of yacht racing has been the means of
inducing a great number of our fashionable youth, both golden and
gilded, to cultivate the sport of yachting. The wholesome and
invigorating influence of sea life and salt water have developed scores
of dudes into men; and the one-design classes, now so popular, do much
to keep young fellows out of mischief.
Racing in the smaller classes is encouraged by all the clubs except
one—the New York Yacht Club—and open regattas are plentiful, to which
the boats belonging to all recognized clubs are not only eligible but
cordially welcome. The Yacht Racing Association of Long Island Sound has
made a specialty of encouraging and promoting these open regattas, and
the result is a programme of most attractive events, with no conflicting
dates, that offer golden opportunities to ambitious amateurs to win
trophies of their skill and daring. All existing classes are invited to
take part in these competitions, as the most generous and sportsmanlike
spirit of comradeship pervades the yacht clubs of the Sound; so, if a
man prefers a catboat or a sloop or a yawl to a knockabout, he will have
many opportunities of gratifying his yacht-racing instincts. The rules
of this Yacht Racing Association are so fair and liberal that the most
carping of critics can find nothing in them to cavil at. A hearty
welcome is accorded the owners of all visiting boats by the club holding
the regatta, and nothing can be more satisfactory than the system which
so happily obtains in this present year of grace.
The benefits bestowed by this association on the yachtsmen of New York
and Connecticut are rivaled by those offered to Eastern yachtsmen by the
Yacht Racing Association of Massachusetts. Similar associations exist on
the Lakes and the Pacific Coast, while the International Yacht Racing
Union, established in 1897, promises to wield a powerful and benignant
influence in the immediate future on the promotion of international
matches, which, in the past, have proved so beneficial to the sport.
It may thus be deduced that the outlook for sound and thriving sport was
never brighter or more promising than it is to-day. White sails of
racing craft dot the waters of our coast line where the sport is
practicable. In the inland lakes the pastime, too, is pursued with zeal
and intelligence. The advance and progress made in the sport date,
strange to say, from 1880, when what is known as the “cutter craze”
first made itself manifest in this country. In the light of history it
should be candidly conceded that the lessons learned from the Scotch
cutters _Madge_, _Clara_ and _Minerva_ proved of incalculable benefit to
the sport in America. Broad-minded Britishers will also admit that the
victories of moderate and able compromise craft like _Puritan_ and
_Mayflower_, combining the American breadth of beam and the centerboard
with the British outside lead, over such representative English cutters
as _Genesta_ and _Galatea_ caused the alteration of the British rule
which penalized beam and which resulted in the building of vessels like
_Britannia_, _Valkyrie_ and _Meteor_.
The adoption by the English of cotton duck for sails, and also of the
Yankee laced mainsail, show how our transAtlantic cousins appreciate a
good thing when its advantages are made manifest. The eager way in which
they snapped up the Herreshoff fin-keel is further proof of the active
interest the British designers take in the development of American yacht
naval architecture and how keen they are to avail themselves of any new
“wrinkles” in hull, sails or rigging that Yankee genius may invent.
And while the British eye is kept wide open in our direction, it must
not be thought that we are blind to the doings of our rivals across the
sea. The friendly feelings that have been enhanced between the two great
English-speaking nations ever since the outbreak of the late war with
Spain did much to make another race for the _America’s_ Cup possible and
popular, and neither nation can afford to nap when the yachting
supremacy of the sea is at stake.
Queen Victoria’s policy has ever been to encourage yacht racing, as the
many Queen’s Cups she has presented to yacht clubs during her long reign
abundantly prove. The most popular act of her life, so far as
professional yacht sailors are concerned, took place on April 8, 1897,
when she visited the Prince of Wales’ cutter _Britannia_, at Nice, and
presented Capt. John Carter, her skipper, with the medal of the Victoria
Order, accompanying the gift with a graceful compliment. In America the
yachting fraternity, both amateur and professional, has received no
encouragement whatever from the Congress, and is still subject to
harassing legislation. This is much to be regretted, as it is without
question bad and unwise policy.
II.
THE RACING YACHT. SOME REMARKS ON THE MATERIAL, CONSTRUCTION AND
SELECTION OF A VESSEL.
It is a matter of some difficulty to advise a prospective yachtsman as
to the acquisition of a racing craft. There are two courses open to him.
He can either build or buy ready-made. If the question of money is
purely a secondary consideration, the wealthy amateur will probably feel
inclined to give an order to a fashionable naval architect for the
down-to-date design of a tip-top craft in the class on which he has set
his heart. He will find plenty of accommodating builders who will meet
his views conscientiously and do their best to follow out the minutiæ of
the draughtsman’s design. Swell sailmakers—and we have some of the best
on earth—will supply his craft with a splendidly fitting and sitting
suit of muslin, and he can hire a crack skipper who will teach him all
the tricks of the most expert timoneer.
[Illustration:
THE CUTTER “ORIVA.”
]
Mr. George L. Watson, the famous Scotch yacht designer, in a lecture on
“Progress in Yachting and Yacht Building,” delivered early in 1881,
said:
“As prophecy nowadays seems to be one of the branches of naval
architecture, and we have been told by Sir E. J. Reed and others what
kind of ships the next generation are to have, I am anxious to keep
abreast of the age, and herewith present you with the outline
specification of a 10-tonner for the season 2000. You see I keep myself
pretty safe, as but few of us will be alive to see her sail. The
dimensions I won’t venture on. Some yachting authorities assert that you
have only to make the boat long enough and heavy enough, to beat all
existing racing craft; and it seems strange that, with this knowledge in
their possession, they should not only have had sufficient self-denial
to resist the building of certain successes, but have even gone the
length of turning out duffers of normal dimensions. I think there is
just a little more in it than that, and can’t believe that a 10-tonner
80 feet long could ever be a success.
“We have not exhausted the possibilities of form yet, and really know
very little more about it than Solomon did when he confessed his
inability to understand ‘the way of a ship on the sea;’ and when we do
arrive at perfection in shape, we can set to, then, to look out for
better material.
“The frames and beams, then, of my ideal ship shall be of aluminum, the
plating below water of manganese bronze and the topsides of aluminum,
while I think it will be well to deck her, too, with that lightest of
metals, as good yellow pine will soon be seen only in a museum. For
ballast, of course we should have nothing but platinum, unless the owner
grudged the expense, when we might put the top tier of gold.
“But by that date I hope we won’t care for sailing in such a sluggish
element as the water. I firmly believe that some day the air will become
as easily traversed as the earth or ocean.”
Now, in 1881, Mr. Watson’s fame as a naval architect was quite firmly
established, but as a prophet he was without honor in his own and
every other country. It is therefore remarkable that his prediction,
made presumably in playful jest, was, in a great measure, fulfilled
not very long after. A torpedo boat of manganese bronze was actually
built in England for the French Government in 1891. Then followed the
construction in France of the yacht _Vendenesse_, built almost
altogether of aluminum, in 1892, and a series of French torpedo boats
of aluminum in 1895–6. The Yankee _Vigilant_ was constructed of Tobin
bronze below the water-line and of steel above. She had a hollow
bronze centerboard and a solid bronze rudder. The latest development
of Mr. Watson’s fanciful idea was introduced in _Defender_ in 1895.
This celebrated yacht has topside plating, deck beams, deck-strapping
and upper fittings of aluminum, 4 per cent. nickel alloy, while the
bottom plating is of bronze. The stern, frames, floor-plates,
stiffening-angles, bilge-stringers, inverted angle-bulbs, underdeck
beams, the two deck beams inclosing mast, tie-plates round mast,
stepping-socket, bed-plate fittings, and supports and chain-plates are
of steel. All the rivets are of bronze, thus completing an intimate
association of the three metals, which was followed in a short time by
inevitable general corrosion.
[Illustration:
Courtesy of Harper Bros.
“VIGILANT,” CUP-DEFENDER OF 1893, IN DRY DOCK.
]
Advocates of aluminum as a fit metal for use in shipbuilding point out
that no effort at insulation of any kind whatsoever was made, not even
the simple precautions which would have been insisted on in an ordinary
case of steel and bronze construction. _Defender_ was built with only
one purpose in view—the winning of a series of races. Her subsequent
proceedings were a matter of no interest to her owners and builder. Had
she been built of steel throughout she would have cost about half as
much as she actually did, and would have been good for fifteen years of
hard sailing if built up to Lloyd’s rules. But she might, in that case,
have failed to fulfill her only reason for existence—the beating of Lord
Dunraven’s _Valkyrie III._
The scientist who will invent some alloy to combine with aluminum which
will make the metal free from corrosion when immersed in salt water will
confer a great boon on the builders of racing yachts and, incidentally,
will enrich himself. That this problem will be solved eventually there
is little doubt. I hope that Mr. Watson will live to see his prophecy
realized, even to the extent of aerial navigation.
At present, however, the heavy first cost of aluminum and its short
life, when exposed to the erosive action of sea water, bar its use in
the construction of racing yachts, except when the sentiment of
defending or regaining an historic national trophy is indulged in by a
syndicate of capitalists. Probably no single millionaire would have gone
to the expense of the _Defender_, but when the price of her was divided
up among several, the plethoric purses were not so very much depleted
after all.
Aluminum as a material for yachts has been an interesting subject to me
ever since it was first used in shipbuilding. The aluminum used in the
_Defender_ had an alloy of from 12 to 15 per cent. of nickel. The
majority of the plates used were ⁵⁄₁₆ and ⅜ of an inch in thickness. The
heaviest plate weighed about 200 pounds, was 38½ inches wide, 13 feet 10
inches long, and ⁵⁄₁₆ of an inch thick. This plate gave an ultimate
tensile strength of 40,780 pounds per square inch, an elongation of 10
per cent. in 2 inches, and the reduction of area at the point of
fracture was 14.75 per cent. Each and every plate used was tested.
The _Defender_ was constructed of aluminum plating from the water-line
up. Her deck beams, lateral and diagonal braces under the deck, a
stringer plate connecting the deck beams with the sides of the vessel,
continuous throughout her length, and the rail were of aluminum. The
same metal was also used for dead-light frames and covers and small
interior fittings. The sheaves of all her blocks were of aluminum.
I have read nearly everything that scientific men have written on the
subject of aluminum as used in _Defender_, and from my reading I deduce
that the metal failed to prove satisfactory because proper care was not
taken to prevent oxidation by galvanic action. In the first place,
bronze rivets were used instead of aluminum rivets, or iron rivets
galvanized. Secondly, the insides of the rivet holes were not coated
with white lead, nor were the rivets themselves dipped in white lead or
paraffine before driving, as might easily have been done. In fact, no
precaution whatever was taken to minimize galvanic action.
Mr. Herreshoff was advised to lay strips of heavy canton flannel well
soaked in white lead between the lapping aluminum plates of the topsides
and the bronze plates of the underbody, and then rivet up with the
flannel between the edges of the two plates, forming a neutral joint.
This precaution was not taken, however, the result being great corrosion
where, through the junction of the two metals, galvanic action set in.
[Illustration:
“UNCAS” IN FRAME.
]
As a general axiom it may be averred that whenever brass or copper comes
into direct contact with aluminum exposed to sea water, corrosion is
very rapid. It may also be averred that aluminum rivets can be made
fully as strong as those of any other metal. Thus there is no good
reason for using bronze rivets in the construction of an aluminum
vessel.
The conclusion I arrive at is that aluminum as a material for a racing
yacht should not be condemned until further experiments have been made.
In strength and lightness it surpasses every other metal.
It is the general opinion of shipbuilders that the best system of
construction is to use one material alone in a vessel. Let her be all
wood or all one metal, and then the strains will be equal and corrosion
will be avoided. There is no question that wood should be used in all of
the smaller craft up to the 51-footers, at any rate. Strength and
lightness may be most effectually combined by the double-skin system of
construction, which is by all odds the most efficient and lasting. In
boats larger than these, steel may be the material of the hull. Metal in
small craft is necessarily so thin that unsightly bulges often disfigure
the topsides of vessels built of sheet-iron, ships’ lifeboats, for
instance. It is true, however, that these metal boats are light and
durable, and when hung to a ship’s davits do not warp or shrink or
become leaky when exposed to the burning rays of a tropical sun. These
qualities, though of great value in the craft indicated, do not apply to
small pleasure vessels, especially when the great heat of metal vessels
in our hot summers is taken into consideration. Steel corrodes quickly
and soon gets foul. It should, therefore, be kept well protected with a
preservative anti-fouling paint.
Old-fashioned yachtsmen, a class of people almost extinct, prefer wood
to any other material in sailing yachts of even the largest size. But
the most prejudiced of these ancient mariners are forced to admit,
however reluctantly, that wood will not satisfactorily stand the jarring
strains of powerful modern marine engines. It would, of course, be
possible to build an oaken vessel strong enough to sustain the stress of
the machinery, but the timbers would have to be bulky indeed, and the
weight would be far greater than if steel were made use of exclusively.
A friend of mine who is a devoted yachtsman, as well as a pretty fair
hand with the rod and gun, having lost the bulk of his money by an
unfortunate investment, was able by the exercise of ingenuity to build
for himself a smart and able cruising schooner at a very moderate cost,
and also to spend a winter very enjoyably. This is how he went about it:
In the first place he had a thorough knowledge of the type of boat he
wanted, and had a smattering of the shipbuilders’ art, being moderately
handy with tools. So when he went to a naval architect he was able to
give an intelligent notion of his real requirements, and wasted no
precious professional time.
In the course of a few days the designer furnished him with the
requisite working plans and specifications, all admirably clear and
concise, and easily comprehensible by an intelligent mechanic. Armed
with these plans he packed up his traps, not forgetting his guns, and
started for a certain seaport in Maine, where some of the best coasting
vessels in the world are built and where suitable timber is to be had at
a very low price. Labor is cheap and so is the cost of living. He fell
in with a skillful shipwright who owned a shipyard in the harbor, and he
made satisfactory terms for the building of the vessel, the construction
of which he generally supervised. She was built under cover, and thus
was not damaged in the least by the severe winter weather. My friend
made the seaport his headquarters, his expenses averaging no more than
$1 a day. He went on several enjoyable shooting expeditions, and was
much benefited in health by the pure and bracing air.
[Illustration:
INTERIOR OF “UNCAS.”
]
[Illustration:
FORM OF “UNCAS.”
]
The best of it was that by this means he became the owner of a very
serviceable vessel. All her timbers were sound and seasoned. The
estimate was so reasonable that, instead of galvanized fastenings, which
the specifications called for, he found that he could afford yellow
metal and copper bolts wherever prudence dictated their use.
Being a “crank,” as most good yachtsmen are, when the vessel was in
frame he gave every inch of her a right-down good soaking with kerosene
oil, applying as much as the dry wood was able to absorb. He says this
process preserves the wood almost indefinitely. All the oak was
fall-cut, and not a sappy timber found a place in the shapely hull.
In the late spring she was launched and rigged, and, when fitted out,
her owner sailed her to New York, where the nautical critics carefully
surveyed her and pronounced her good.
I would not, however, advise the average man to follow my friend’s
example. The man of whom I write was exceptionally well qualified and
equipped for the undertaking and carrying out of such a job. Outside of
his general knowledge of shipbuilding and seamanship, he was a shrewd
business man, with plenty of tact and knowledge of the world. It would
be difficult for the most rascally of shipbuilders to get the better of
him. He was also favored by good fortune, insomuch as the honesty and
skill of the builder of his yacht were concerned. He tells me he saved
twenty five per cent. in the actual cost of the vessel if built anywhere
in the neighborhood of New York. Moreover, he got a boat capable of
being classed in the highest standard at Lloyd’s and good for a quarter
of a century’s hard cruising. Having seen the boat put together, he
never felt anxious about straining her in a squall. There was no
skimping of quantity in material to procure a flimsy kind of lightness.
Hull, spars and rigging were all scientifically adapted to the heaviest
strains they were likely to encounter, and a sufficient margin of extra
strength was added in case of emergencies. The schooner has been in
commission now for several years, her owner living aboard her
practically all the year round. He has cruised south as far as the
Caribbean Sea and north to Labrador. He is his own skipper, and a better
seaman and navigator never broke a biscuit on his knee or drank grog out
of a pannikin.
The only objection that can be made against iron or steel yachts in the
larger classes is that their bottoms foul so rapidly. So far as their
capacity to resist stress and strain is concerned, nothing can be said
against them. The first English iron yacht was the _Mosquito_, designed
by Tom Waterman and built on the Thames in 1848. The first American iron
yacht was the cutter _Vindex_, designed by Mr. A. Cary Smith in 1870 for
Mr. Robert Center.
Nickel steel, as its name implies, is an alloy of steel with nickel. It
possesses all the qualities of steel for shipbuilding purposes, but it
has, in addition, a breaking strength of forty tons to the square inch,
as against twenty-seven for ordinary steel. The twenty-rater _Dragon
III._, built in 1893, had frames and beams of this metal, which I think
is destined to be much used in the construction of racing yachts.
The composite system of construction, namely, steel or iron frames and
wooden planking, is in my judgment open to objection. The frames of a
racing yacht are of course as light as the naval architect dares to make
them in his effort to reduce weight in every detail of hull, spars and
rigging. When it comes to pass that the seams of a composite yacht
require calking, the strain of driving the oakum home produces such a
pressure on the bolts that fasten the planks to the frames that they
snap off.
The composite system was introduced in 1860 on the Clyde, many China
clippers being built after that plan. Among the first composite yachts
were _Nyanza_ and _Oimara_, built by Robert Steele & Co., of Greenock,
about 1867. All the large racing yachts of the present time that are not
constructed of metal have steel frames, as a sufficiently light wooden
frame could not sustain the immense strains of the large sail plan and
the heavy weight of the outside lead.
If a man sets his heart on having a composite vessel he should take care
that her skin is of double construction, one layer of plank overlapping
the other, with a liberal luting of white lead between. Thus no calking
whatever is necessary; the vessel is tight as a bottle and much stronger
than if the old-fashioned plan is followed. The only objection is the
expense.
John Harvey, the English yacht designer and builder, who was first to
introduce the double-skin system in yachts, told me once that many
composite yachts were hauled out in his yard at Wivenhoe to be repaired.
He had been inside several of them when being calked, and seen the nuts
break off and roll down in the bilges by the score as the oakum driven
by the calking iron wedged the planks apart. This result is so obvious
that it requires no further comment.
It may well be urged that it is scarcely worth while to incur so much
more expenditure of hard cash on a boat that may be obsolete, so far as
racing is concerned, after two or three seasons; and this argument will
probably prevail with the average yacht owner. I consider it my duty,
nevertheless, to call attention to the defects of the system generally
in use, and to the advantages of the double skin; and I will give two
striking illustrations which I think will prove my case.
[Illustration:
“UNCAS” ON THE WAYS.
]
Mr. Coate’s smart 10-ton cutter _Madge_, designed by Mr. G. L. Watson,
was a single-skin craft. She was built in 1879 and created a great
sensation when she came to this country and beat all our skimming
dishes. In 1890 she was almost ready to fall to pieces, and her rickety
frame had to be strengthened with iron knees and fitted with new
topsides. In 1894 she was condemned as unseaworthy and fit only for the
junkman.
On the other hand we have the cutter _Oriva_, designed by John Harvey
and launched in 1881. She is of the double-skin construction, lighter in
proportion to her size than _Madge_, and to-day she is as strong and
stanch as she was when she was launched.
If the prospective builder decides to use wood as the material for his
boat, he will find that American elm is the best material for the keel
and the garboard strakes. When entirely submerged, elm will last for
half a century or more, but is especially liable to decay between wind
and water.
White oak should be used for the stem, sternpost, knightheads, apron,
deadwoods and futtocks. The timbers should be of oak or hackmatack, and
the planking of yellow pine. This material, if well seasoned and
properly put together, should insure a sound boat. Yellow-metal
fastenings should be used below the water-line, if the expense is not
too much for the owner’s purse. If that should prove the case,
galvanized iron may take their place. Personally, I believe in having
the hull as perfect as possible. I would dispense with costly
gingerbread work below deck, having everything cozy and attractive, and
would expend the extra money, thus saved, on hull, spars and rigging,
yellow-metal fastenings being my first object. Of course, if I were
building a “freak” for a couple of seasons’ sport, I wouldn’t use a
fragment of copper in her construction.
It is well to bear in mind that there is absolutely no market for an
outclassed racer. For that reason I cannot recommend the expenditure of
much money on the construction of a craft whose life in the usual course
of events is limited to perhaps three seasons. Double skins and copper
fastenings would be absurdly out of place in such craft. But when a man
builds a cruiser, there is no reason why she should not be as sound and
strong as a judicious expenditure of money can make her.
There is much to be said for and against copper sheathing for the bottom
of a racing yacht. For some reason or other it has never been popular in
this country. It was first used in 1761, when the British warship
_Alarm_ was coppered at Woolwich.
Mr. G. L. Watson is authority for the statement that, as early as 1834,
a metal keel was fixed on the _Wave_, built for Mr. John Cross Buchanan
by Messrs. Steele.
The man desirous of obtaining distinction in the arena of yacht racing,
supposing he decides to build a yacht of his own so that the luster
appertaining to her achievements shall be inevitably associated with his
name, should, in the first place, have a full and businesslike
understanding with his designer, who will only be happy to meet him half
way and will cheerfully name the honorarium for his draught. The
designer supplies drawings, plans and specifications, and supervises the
work of the builder.
The builder’s duty is to furnish an estimate of the cost of such yacht,
which estimate, if accepted by the yachtsman, should be embodied in an
agreement that takes the legal form of a contract, after being signed.
The agreement should specify:
1—That the yacht shall be constructed according to specifications and
drawings furnished by the designer, complying with all requirements
therein set forth regarding material and workmanship, and that all work
shall be completed to the satisfaction of the designer and surveyor (if
any).
2—That the yacht shall be delivered to the owner on a certain date
afloat and complete, and in default of completion by such date, the
builder shall pay a certain stipulated sum for each and every day
afterward during which the yacht remains incomplete and undelivered, for
liquidated damages, the owner being empowered to deduct such damages
from the price of the vessel.
3—That the builder shall be paid by the owner a certain sum on the
signing of the agreement, a further sum when the yacht shall be in
frame, yet another sum when the yacht is timbered and planked, and the
final payment when the yacht is completed to the satisfaction of the
designer and surveyor, and delivered to the owner ready for sea.
4—All damage to the yacht, through fire or any other cause whatever,
previous to her delivery to the owner, shall be made good by and at the
expense of the builder, and to the satisfaction of the designer.
The specification should fully set forth the dimensions of the yacht and
the material to be used in her construction. As an example I append the
general specifications of the _Uncas_, one of the three one-design
46-foot schooners designed by Mr. A. Cary Smith in 1898:
General Dimensions.—Length over all, 64ft. 2in.; length on l.w.l.,
46ft.; beam, extreme, 16ft.; draft without board, 6ft. 6in.; least
freeboard, 3ft. Specifications: Keel, white oak, molded, 5½in.; stem,
white oak, sided, 4½in.; sternpost, white oak, sided, 5in.; frames,
hackmatack, double, sided 2in., molded at keel 3½in., at planksheer
2¼in.; floors, sided 2½ right and left; trunk log, sided 6in. and
molded 10in., bolted with ⅝ galvanized iron; sides of trunk, yellow
pine and white pine, 2x8in., bolted with ⅝ galvanized bolts;
centerboard, oak and yellow pine, bolted with ⅝ galvanized iron; pin
and hanging to be of brass; ballast to be of lead furnished by owner,
20,000 lbs. in all, 18,000 on keel bolted with ¾in. Muntz metal bolts,
25 in number; planking of yellow pine, spike fastened; clamps, yellow
pine, 2 in number, 1½x6in.; shelf, same, 5x2in., worked to shape, 1
through bolt on each frame; bilge strakes, yellow pine, 3 on a side,
1½x6in.; ceiling, only where cabin work calls for it, ¾in. pine; deck
beams, white oak, sided 3in., molded 2⅜in.; partner beams and house
beams to be sided 6in.; partners, hackmatack, kneed with same;
planksheer, white oak, 1¾x7in.; deck plank, white pine, 1¾in. thick by
2¼in. wide, spiked; bulwarks, pine; stanchions, white oak; trunk
cabin, tongued and grooved sides, 1½x3in., with wrapper; trunk deck,
tongued and grooved stuff, 1½in., covered with canvas; hatches and
slides, mahogany; bitts, locust; windlass, pump brake; anchors, 120
lbs., 160 lbs.; chains, 70 fathoms, ⅜ tested.
[Illustration:
“OUANANICHE.”
]
All chocks and kevels as required; steerer, Perley patent, mahogany
wheel about 30in.; tanks, galvanized iron, to hold about 200 gals.;
pump in galley basins to discharge in receivers (bilge pump); one
small tank on C. B. trunk.
Masts and spars of best spruce; rigging, best cast-steel wire rope and
manila; sails to be as follows: mainsail, foresail, forestaysail, jib,
small jib, small jibtopsail, second jibtopsail, spinnaker, two
gaff-topsails, small maintopmast staysail; blocks of white ash; iron
work of all kinds, of best iron galvanized; awning stanchions
galvanized; joiner work to be of tongued and grooved stuff, where it
will not be seen, and the rest to be paneled, of white pine, all to be
of ¾ stuff; to be painted with three coats of paint.
The 21-footer _Ouananiche_, designed by Mr. T. E. Ferris and built at
the same yard as _Uncas_, is an excellent example of the modern type of
boat. Her accommodations are good and she is both fast and able.
The specifications may also include the cabin fittings and all
furniture, upholstery for berths, and ship stores generally, not
including edibles. It is more satisfactory to the owner to have an
estimate of the total cost of the craft complete and ready for sea.
The owner too frequently suggests changes from the specifications,
which, in all cases, entail considerable expense. These alterations are
quite justly charged for by the builder as “extra work;” and if the
owner is a good hand at “suggesting,” as the tyro generally is, the bill
for “extra work” makes a big item when the final account is rendered. I
have known it to amount to as much as $500 on a $2,000 craft. Sometimes
vexatious litigation follows.
All this trouble may be avoided by having a clause inserted in the
contract to the effect that no work done on the yacht without a written
order, signed by the designer and countersigned by the owner, shall be
deemed extra work. The careful builder will insist on such a clause if
he is alive to his best interests.
A yacht, in the interesting process of construction, possesses a sort of
hypnotic attraction to the man it is being built for. He haunts the
shipyard from the hour the men turn to in the morning to the time they
knock off at night. Naturally, he is anxious to know how she progresses.
If he were a wise man he would keep religiously aloof from the scene of
operations, and leave the work of inspection and supervision to his
naval architect. These remarks apply only to the tyro, who is usually as
proud of his first yacht as a young mother of her first-born. With old
stagers it is different.
On the day of the launch it is customary for the owner to buy liquid
refreshments for the workmen in the shipyard. The naval architect, too,
feels hurt if he does not receive a personal invitation to the ceremony
and a seat at the collation which follows the launch.
If a man has neither the means nor the inclination to build a boat of
his own he need not despair. There are always in the market a number of
serviceable boats. A shrewd buyer, if he keeps his weather eye open, may
pick up a rare bargain. It is his own fault if he gets the worse of the
transaction. Given a good designer and a good builder in the first
place, he may safely conclude that the craft he has his eye on was not a
“gingerbread” boat when she was launched.
[Illustration:
“DRAGON III.”
]
Unless the purchaser is well versed in boats I should by all means
advise him to have the craft surveyed by a competent man, whose charge
will be moderate. It is sure to be money saved. A boat with a bulb fin
or a heavily weighted centerboard is peculiarly susceptible to strains
and wrenches which a tyro would be likely to pass over, but which would
be clearly apparent to the unerring eye of an expert professional.
Sometimes a man who thinks he is built on the lines of a yachting
enthusiast joins a yacht club and builds a boat in a fashionable class.
After a few weeks he discovers that all his enthusiasm has evaporated;
that he takes no interest whatever in the sport. His next course is to
offer his craft for sale. He is often so disgusted that he lets a
purchaser have her for a song. This is a shrewd man’s opportunity, and
he should not let it escape. It is not often, however, that such
windfalls come in one’s way, in spite of the old adage that a simpleton
is born every minute.
Let me in all seriousness conjure you never to buy or launch a yacht on
a Friday! If you do, you will surely rue it. The superstitions of old
sailors are not to be despised. It is quaint and curious that
superstition of the sea about the lucklessness of Friday, but I for one
most devoutly believe in it. I have reason, too, for on one fine Friday
morning, ever so many years ago, I set sail from the port of Sunderland
in the stout brig _Goshawk_, hailing from the port of Shoreham, with
Captain Cuddington in command. On Sunday morning we were ashore on the
Long Sand in a howling gale, and the brig went to pieces in six hours. I
was saved with others of the crew by a smack from Harwich, in charge of
brave John Tigh, but a poor boy, just fresh from a Sussex farm,
perished. I shall always remember that day. There were two life-buoys
aboard, and these the captain and the cook secured. The instinct of
self-preservation was strong, no doubt, and it was not an era of heroes.
I was a romantic child at that time, on my first sea voyage, and fresh
from a course of “The Three Musketeers,” “Monte Cristo,” and other such
entertaining literature. I thought then that we two little frightened
boys would have been allowed the safeguard of the life-buoys. Now I know
better.
[Illustration: [Sunrise]]
III.
THE TYPE OF YACHT.
WHAT SHALL SHE BE—KEEL, CENTERBOARD, OR BULB-FIN?
When we come to consider the type of yacht most desirable to buy or to
build, the problem is perplexing. We must in every case be guided by
circumstances. For instance, a deep bulb-fin boat for racing or cruising
on the shallow waters of the Great South Bay would be manifestly out of
place. Nor would a sharpie be the most desirable class of craft for use
on the deep water of the lower Hudson. Locality is what must guide us in
our choice. Build or buy a boat suitable for the work she is intended to
do.
Remember that nearly every type of craft, keel, bulb-fin, centerboard or
double-huller, has some good qualities to recommend it. For cruising, a
keel yacht of moderate draught, so as to be able to enter harbors where
the water is comparatively shallow, may be recommended. A centerboard
vessel for the same purpose, to those who prefer the type, holds further
inducements. A wholesome knockabout for general purposes, fishing and
class-racing affords lots of sport. A modern fin-keel for racing only
cannot be surpassed. So out of these various types you have only to
choose. It is not necessary in this connection to sing the praises of
the keel type. It speaks for itself. For speed and safety it is equally
adapted. In war and in commerce as well as in yacht racing it has made
its mark.
[Illustration:
“GLORIANA.”
]
There are a number of yachts which without exaggeration or affectation
may well be characterized as epoch-making vessels. First comes the
schooner _America_, which revolutionized yacht naval architecture in
Great Britain. Then follows _Evolution_, the parent of the bulb-fin type
of to-day. Next comes the Scotch cutter _Madge_, which was responsible
for the decline and fall of our unwholesome “skimming-dish” type.
_Puritan_ is next—a compromise between the two extremes of deep cutter
and shallow centerboard. It should be remembered in connection with this
boat that she combined the factors of outside lead, moderate draught and
ample beam, and was in every way a new departure, reflecting great
credit on her talented designer, Mr. Edward Burgess. _Gloriana_ was as
pronounced a departure as _Puritan_, her famous spoon-bow and immense
overhangs arousing all the British designers and causing them to steer a
new course. Her influence was quite as great as that of _America_. She
made Nat Herreshoff famous.
[Illustration:
“MADGE.”
]
The remarkable feature of _Gloriana_ was that while her length on the
load water-line was 45 feet 3 inches (she was built for the 46-foot
class), her length over all was 70 feet. As the fullness of the bilge
extended to bow and stern, the more she was inclined, the greater was
her water-line length. I never saw a stiffer yacht. Her record for her
first season (1890) was eight starts and eight first prizes. _Dilemma_,
the Herreshoff fin-keel, may also be described as an epoch-maker, as her
form and her fin were speedily adopted and adapted by British designers.
It will be noticed that all the yachts enumerated, except _Puritan_ and
_Dilemma_, are of the keel variety.
The long reign of what may be termed the demoralized centerboard type is
happily over. It is really a matter of marvel that the shoal hulls of
great beam, destitute of a safe range of stability, and carrying a
dangerous spread of sail, did not oftener turn turtle and cause a
greater loss of human life.
The Hudson River freight sloop was a safe and well-built craft, well
adapted not only for the commerce of our coasts but also for long ocean
voyages. So far back as 1785 the _Albany_, an 84-ton sloop, Stewart
Dennis master, made a voyage to Canton, returning with a cargo of tea.
Between 1790 and 1800 there were about a hundred sloops plying in the
freight and passenger trade between New York and Albany, and proving
fast and able. These packets flourished until steam drove them out of
the business.
[Illustration:
THE GERM OF THE CENTERBOARD.
]
The centerboard, an improvement on the Dutch leeboard, first used on the
Hudson about 1830, has since been a necessity because of the shallowness
of some of our harbors; and there is no reason why it should not
continue to be popular, if the model is of sound design and the
construction strong. Every objection against the centerboard system may
be met by the argument that a large proportion of our coasting schooners
on the Atlantic seaboard are fitted with centerboards, and ply their
calling winter and summer, in storm and calm, and the unerring test of
their seaworthiness is that the underwriters do not look upon them as
greater risks than those of the keel variety. A marine underwriter is
generally shrewd and businesslike, and keeps a close watch on the
statistics of maritime losses. If it were proven by the wreck returns
that centerboard vessels were more prone to succumb to the perils of the
raging main than the craft not built with a movable fin, the inference
is obvious, the premium of insurance would be graded to meet the risk.
[Illustration:
“VESTA.”
]
I think that this argument will appeal to all people of common sense,
and will settle the question of the relative safety and seaworthiness of
the two types. But there is this to be said on the subject, that very
much difference exists between a craft constructed for carrying coal and
another built for the purpose of pleasure. I think it may be averred
without error that the early centerboard yachts were, as a rule, modeled
by shipwrights who had a due regard for the factor of initial stability
as well as strong hulls scientifically put together. But, step by step,
a school of naval architecture came into vogue, so far as centerboard
yachts were concerned, in which most of the sound principles of yacht
designing were totally ignored. Mr. W. P. Stephens, in an interesting
and scholarly paper read before the Society of Naval Architects and
Marine Engineers in 1895, well says:
“The centerboard lent itself as a willing accessory to the sacrifice of
that depth which is essential to a safe range of stability, mere
sail-carrying power being derived from an excess of beam, which was but
an additional element of danger. In the search for speed under special
local conditions, mainly those of summer racing, the true principles of
naval architecture, so apparent in the work of George Steers and others
of the earlier designers, were utterly ignored, and a most dangerous and
vicious school of designing prevailed throughout American yachting.
“Taking the centerboard sloop and schooner as they were up to
1880—dangerously shoal and wide in model; often clumsily built of soft
wood, with the poorest of fastenings; faultily ballasted with stone and
iron inside; the hull inherently weak in form from the great beam and
lack of proportionate depth; the entire middle portion of keel and
floors cut away, with the familiar ‘hinge joint’ where the mast was
stepped, just forward of the trunk; and with the deck construction made
worse than useless as an element of strength through the absence of all
beams in the middle portion of the vessel and the presence of a great
superstructure, the cabin trunk—the accepted laws of naval design and
construction fail to give any reason why such craft capsized no oftener
and kept afloat as long as they did; and we can only fall back for an
explanation on the doctrine of a special providence.”
Mr. Stephens is not only a naval architect, but also a practical
shipwright, and therefore, his scathing arraignment of the centerboard
type must be taken as emanating from his ripe judgment and long
experience. It must be remembered, however, that he is a pronounced
advocate of the keel type, and has long waged war against the
centerboard. So far as his denunciation applies to the vicious and
exaggerated variety I agree with him, heart and soul. But I am not
prepared to condemn the whole class because of the glaring imperfections
to be found in examples.
It must be borne in mind that without the aid of the centerboard the
pastime of yachting would be impracticable on innumerable sheets of
shallow water, both salt and fresh, to be found in North America. With
that point in view, the abolition of the vicious element in the type,
and its succession by a sound and seaworthy class of pleasure craft,
should be the aim of all yachtsmen. And since the year 1880 great
strides have been made in that direction. I have witnessed with joy the
decadence and abolition of the “sandbagger,” a craft of immense beam,
shallow draft, and big sail plan. The sandbagger was the ideal racing
machine of twenty five years ago. Its place has been taken by the
fin-keel. I wonder if the fin-keel is destined to be succeeded by the
double-huller, such as _Dominion_, which made her début in Canada in
1898?
In the course of the same paper Mr. Stephens also says: “To us familiar
with it [the centerboard] from our earliest knowledge of the water, the
striking characteristics of the type appeal with little force; but if,
with our knowledge of the sea, of naval instruction, and of the strains
and stresses to which every vessel is subjected, the idea were laid
before us, for the first time, of a vessel with the entire backbone and
floor construction cut away for the middle third of her length, devoid
of deck frames almost from mast to rudder-post, with a great box
amidships open to the sea, and with a thin, movable plane projecting
deep below the bottom, it would be strange if the majority would not
condemn on sight a combination so unmechanical, so lubberly, and so
dangerous.”
But Mr. Stephens gives the other side of the question also. He says: “In
the hands of competent and honest shipwrights the centerboard coasting
schooner has disproved all theories as to the non-utility of the type
for seagoing purposes: in a hull of moderate first cost and running
expense it has carried swiftly, safely and profitably its cargoes of
coal, lumber, sugar, firewood, barley, bricks, or general freight, both
on the lakes and on the Atlantic, up and down the ‘Beach,’ across
Nantucket Shoals, and around Hatteras in winter, light or loaded, taking
in and landing its cargoes in localities inaccessible to the keel
vessel. In the ocean coasting trade it has been and still is a powerful
factor for good; and in the local trade it has been a Godsend to the
small farmer or miller or lumberman, carrying his product cheaply and
safely from his own small creek or bay to a profitable market. In the
face of such practical results all theories as to the initial weakness
of the centerboard type or its inferiority as a seagoing vessel must
stand aside; numerous instances of bad design and construction may be
found, it is true, but they prove nothing against the type itself in
capable hands.”
This last extract gives a fair presentment of the whole question. It is
by practical results that the centerboard yacht must be judged, as well
as the centerboard coaster. I believe that the centerboard has been
beneficial to the sport of yachting. I will go further, and will say
that without the board yachting could not possibly have attained the
great popularity it now enjoys in this country.
Viewing the subject broadly, I see no reason why the centerboard should
not be good for centuries to come in honest cruising and racing,
especially in classes of moderate size. The keel will probably bear off
the palm in the larger classes of cutters and schooners, but for craft
in the thirty-foot class and under, the centerboard has advantages which
the bulb-fin in my judgment does not possess. Those who care for speed
alone and whose ambition it is to acquire a stock of more or less
inartistic silverware, will continue to pin their faith to the fin.
Others who like to enjoy a modicum of comfort when afloat may safely
swear by the centerboard.
When I was a young man I had an unconquerable prejudice against the
centerboard. My opinion of the type was often expressed in language of
great warmth and strength. Mind you, I was not so utterly devoid of
common sense as to be blind to the advantages of the “board” in shallow
water. I had, however, a fixed idea that the average centerboard sloop
was no good in a blow. This view has been considerably modified in the
school of experience. It once fell to my lot to be an eye-witness of the
excellent seaworthy and speedy qualities of a centerboard sloop in an
easterly gale on Long Island Sound. When we reached port I was perfectly
willing to confess that a vessel of the type aboard which I had been, if
well-found and well-manned, was equal to any keel boat of her size that
I had ever sailed on.
Permit me to spin you the yarn:
The cruise of the Atlantic Yacht Club in 1889 will always be remembered
because of the bad weather encountered on the Sound between Black Rock
and New London. In that year Jefferson Hogan was Commodore and the
schooner _Cavalier_ was the flagship. I was the guest of Vice-Commodore
E. B. Havens on his stout sloop _Athlon_, a remarkably fast and able
craft in heavy weather, but by no means speedy in light airs. She was
built by Mumm, at Bay Ridge, for Dr. Barron. Mr. Havens bought her and
lengthened her six feet, adding a handsome “Burgess stern,” which
improved her appearance wonderfully. I joined the _Athlon_ at Black
Rock, Conn., on Saturday, July 13th, and, after passing Sunday very
pleasantly, turned in early, as the orders were to get under way next
morning at five o’ clock, the early start being necessary, as our
destination was New London, distant nearly fifty miles to the eastward.
I recall that, as we were enjoying our pipes on deck preparatory to
going below for the night, the weather looked dirty and the barometer
was falling.
The guests of Mr. Havens besides the writer were Mr. Levi Burgess and
Mr. Havens, Jr. All of us were capable of lending a hand in an
emergency, and when the time came we did our level best.
[Illustration:
“ATHLON.”
]
The preparatory gun from the flagship aroused us next morning at an hour
when the early birds were still roosting. Going on deck we found a light
wind blowing from east-northeast and a drizzling rain falling. The sky
looked threatening, and all round the horizon black and angry clouds
were clustered. A glance at the aneroid in the companionway showed a
fall of two-tenths of an inch during the night. While the men were
sweating up the peak and throat halyards and heaving short on the anchor
chain, Mr. Burgess and I sneaked below and interviewed the steward, with
the result that we each got outside of a cup of fragrant coffee mellowed
with some remarkable old cognac, carried on the _Athlon_ for medicinal
purposes only. Fortified with this we joined our shipmates on deck,
giving an imitation of two men looking eagerly for work and praying to
the gods not to be successful in the quest.
“Shall we get the jibtopsail out of the sail locker?” inquired young Mr.
Havens of his father.
“I guess the weather looks more like a double-reefed mainsail than a
jibtopsail,” was the reply. So the jibtopsail reposed in the locker.
Bang! went the gun from the _Cavalier_. It was the signal to start.
Anchors were broken out smartly, jibs were hoisted, and the squadron
sailed out of the harbor and began the long and dreary beat to New
London in the chilly, pelting rain.
As I remarked above, the _Athlon_ requires a strong breeze to start her,
and, although our anchor was up in good time, the smart sloop
_Anaconda_, with Mr. Prague at the helm, looming up like a gray ghost in
the mist, glided past us and assumed the lead of the fleet. The
_Anaconda_ was the only boat in her class that ever beat the swift Fife
cutter _Clara_—an achievement that speaks volumes in her behalf.
“Our turn will come by and by,” tersely remarked Mr. Burgess. Events
proved that he was a prophet.
Presently the _Anaconda_, far out to windward, was struck by a savage
squall. Down came her flying kites by the run. I looked at her through
the glass and saw her heel over until the water boiled and bubbled on
her lee deck. All was now activity on the _Athlon_. The boats were swung
in and everything was made snug for the approaching gale. Mr. Havens
determined not to reef till the last moment, and just before the squall,
with its long line of white water in marked contrast with the murky
clouds above, smote us, we clewed up the gafftopsail. It wasn’t an
instant too soon. Had that topsail been set when the blast hove us down
nearly on our beam ends the topmast must have snapped off short, like
the brittle end of a carrot. Mr. Havens was steering. He gave her a few
spokes of lee helm and kept her shaking in the wind till the first fury
of the squall was exhausted. It was almost as dark as pitch for ten
minutes. When it cleared up a little we cast anxious eyes to windward
and to leeward to see what had become of our companions. The _Anaconda_
had snugged down to a couple of reefs. The 40-footer _Chispa_, a
brand-new Burgess boat, was taking it easy under storm trysail and
foresail. The sloop _Concord_ was scudding back to Black Rock under a
bare pole, with the _Fanny_ chasing her under short sail. The schooner
_Azalea_ was having a lot of trouble, and the flagship _Cavalier_ was
making plucky efforts to collect her scattered and stormbeaten convoy
about her.
Just about this time the _Athlon_ began to go. She was carrying her
whole mainsail, jib and foresail. Every now and then a shower of spray
dashed over the weather bow and drenched the Commodore as he stood at
the wheel. The yacht now and again careened to the puffs to such an
extent as to take in green water over the lee coaming of the cockpit. We
passed the _Chispa_ as if she was at anchor, and soon began to forereach
on the _Anaconda_. Under the pressure of the gale the masthead fairly
buckled. It was a case of carrying on sail with a vengeance, but the
Commodore had confidence in his craft, and Mr. Burgess and I had
confidence in the Commodore, so we went below and drank to the health of
the brave little ship. The steward forsook his kitchen and pantry. He
was too nervous to stay anywhere except on deck. As Byron sings:
He was a man in years,
And long had voyaged through many a stormy sea,
And if he wept at length, they were not fears
That made his eyelids as a woman’s be;
But he, poor fellow, had a wife and children—
Two things for drowning sailors quite bewild’ring.
The wind and sea increased. Lumbering schooners bound to the eastward
showed only a rag of canvas, while the west-bound coasters were under
single or double reefs. Still the _Athlon_ held on to everything,
showing the ability of a representative centerboard sloop to do
wonderful work in heavy weather. At last things came to such a pitch
that we _just had to_ shorten sail. We were knocked down by a squall of
particular violence. Anybody to windward of us might have caught a
glimpse of _Athlon’s_ keel. We hauled down the jib and tied a single
reef in the mainsail, which, being brand-new and soaked with rain and
spray, was hard to handle. At last we got it reefed, and after swaying
up the halyards taut as bars of steel we hammered at it once more.
The gale was dead in our teeth. The other yachts of the fleet had
disappeared, most of them seeking harbors of refuge. The _Athlon’s_
destination, however, was New London, and thither she threshed her way
right gallantly, making a short leg and a long leg along the Connecticut
shore. Never before had I seen so heavy a sea in the Sound, and I had
had a long experience on which to draw.
The crew looked like drowned rats. Every time we tacked, the yacht
shipped a good deal of water as she plunged her bows under in the steep
head sea. It was hard work for all hands, but there was a lot of
excitement in it. By and by we struck a streak of good luck. It was off
Branford Beacon, and it was just one bell in the afternoon watch. The
wind had a trifle more northing in it, so much so, in fact, that our
saucy and stanch little ship was able to lay her course for Bartlett’s
Reef lightship, thirty-five miles distant.
This prospect cheered us up considerably. The steward resumed duty and
gave us a square meal of fine cold roast beef and pickles, which we
washed down with bottled Bass. Thus strengthened, we went on deck and
set the jib, gave her a foot or two of the mainsheet, and, keeping her a
good full, went smoking through the perturbed sea at a great rate. The
whole distance to Bartlett’s Reef, at the entrance of the River Thames,
was accomplished with the _Athlon’s_ lee rail under water. Strong gusts
from the land smote her at frequent intervals. If all her gear hadn’t
been of first-class material, something would have carried away. At
half-past four o’clock we passed the lightship, having made the
thirty-five miles in four hours—a highly creditable performance,
considering the villainous weather we had had.
Our troubles, however, were not over by a long shot. The ebb tide was
running out of New London harbor with the velocity of a mill-race. It
was blowing a living gale dead in our teeth. The beat to the city
against wind and tide was as hard a one as I remember on this side of
the Atlantic; but we drove her at it. Glad enough we were to cast anchor
off the old steamboat landing at six o’clock, thus ending twelve hours
of tough fighting, in triumph. The _Chispa_ arrived at a quarter to
eight o’clock that evening. The rest of the fleet reached port in
straggling order the next day. The _Athlon_ thus had the credit of
beating the whole squadron, including several vessels treble her size.
The _Cavalier_, of course, could easily have made the passage, but
Commodore Hogan felt it his duty to stick to the bulk of the fleet, and
for this he was justly commended. So thus it came to pass that _Athlon_
made the record heavy weather run in her history, covered herself with
glory, and made a convert of me.
I have had some experience of yachtsmen, but I feel bound to say that I
never saw a vessel handled better in a blow than _Athlon_ was by
Commodore Havens on that occasion.
This must be added. If the _Athlon_ had not been well-built,
well-rigged, and her sails good, in addition to being handled most
capably, it is not likely that she would have made such a splendid
record.
[Illustration:
CATBOAT “DOROTHY.”
]
The popularity of the catboat as a racing craft will never die out in
this country. The horseless carriage may supersede the hansom-cab in our
city streets, and the electric launch may usurp the place of the
Venetian gondolas, and drive the gay gondoliers to adopt some other
means of livelihood. But the catboat is destined to survive all such
revolutionary changes, and a century hence it will doubtless be more in
vogue for pleasure, sport and business than it is to-day. In hull and
sail plan it will probably be much improved, but its general type will
remain unaltered. For cruising as well as racing it will never fail of
an array of enthusiastic admirers.
Of catboats there are many varieties. They are plentiful at all
waterside haunts, and as they glide gracefully to and fro they look so
tempting and so easy to handle withal, that the visitor from the woods
or the mountains longs to be afloat in one of them, grasping the tiller
with his left hand, while his strong right arm encircles the slender
waist of his trusting but slightly timid sweetheart. The average catboat
is as safe as a church when sailed by a man who knows how, and the art
of sailing her may soon be acquired. But when a lubber undertakes to
handle her she may become as stubborn as a balky mare and as perilous as
the bottomless pit.
Many who have no liking, inherent or acquired, for the modern racing
freak, whether in the 15-foot, 20-foot or 30-foot class, need not give
up their hopes of acquiring fame in mosquito craft racing. A good, fast
catboat is never out of date, and there are various classes of these
wholesome little vessels in which there is always room at the top. The
best of the racing cabin-cat is that she has not yet degenerated into a
mere machine, but has certain modest accommodations which permit her to
be used for pleasant cruises.
The heavy sand bags, or shot bags, which a few years ago necessitated so
much laborious toil and the carrying of such large crews, are now,
happily, out of date, shifting ballast being barred in nearly all clubs.
The modern cat carries outside ballast, which makes the sailing of her a
pastime, not a perspiration-compelling task, while for handiness in rig
the cat cannot be surpassed.
[Illustration:
“KEWAYDIN.”
]
[Illustration:
THE HERRESHOFF CATBOAT “WANDA.”
]
By many ingenious methods and contrivances the mast is so securely
stepped and stayed that there is now no danger in carrying a press of
sail in a piping blow or a steep head sea. The boat can be sailed along
and permitted to feel the full strength of the breeze without any fear
of springing the mast or straining the boat forward.
Catboats of many kinds there are, from the craft common in the Great
South Bay, with its pleasant but rather flimsy summer cabin, to the
robust boat of Cape Cod, which bravely dares the steep seas of a stormy
coast, and is at her best in a vigorous blow. I don’t know of any craft
of such light draught that can compare with the “Caper” for bad-weather
qualities and general all-around usefulness. She is by no means pretty
to look at, but her appearance can be materially improved without
detriment to her sterling attributes. Mr. F. M. Randall has introduced
to New York a modified “Caper.”
All his boats have been built by the Crosbys, of Osterville, Mass., who
now have a branch shop in South Brooklyn. They have been highly
successful, and with _Ethel_, _Presto_, _Step Lively_, and _Scat_, Mr.
Randall won pretty nearly everything he tried for.
Not less successful was the catboat _Kittie_, designed and built for Mr.
Hazen Morse, by Captain Thos. R. Webber, of New Rochelle. She has a lead
shoe on her oaken keel, through which works her centerboard of Tobin
bronze. Launched in 1894 and sailed by her owner, _Kittie_ won fourteen
first prizes that year, and in 1895 she carried off seventeen firsts.
She is now owned in Galveston, Texas. She is 27 feet over all, 20 feet
on the load water-line, 9 feet beam, draught 2 feet, mast 30 feet, hoist
19 feet, boom 33 feet, gaff 21 feet, and sail area 700 square feet.
The racing catboat is such a fascinating theme that a whole volume might
be devoted to its advantages and possibilities. No finer craft in which
to learn the rudiments of yacht racing can be chosen by an amateur; and
there are several classes, large and small, in which eager rivals
compete from the beginning to the end of the yachting season, offering
many opportunities for the winning of prizes.
A successful racing cat is the 25-foot cabin craft _Wanda_, designed and
built by the Herreshoffs, for Mr. F. T. Bedford, Jr., of Brooklyn. She
is 30 feet over all, 21 feet 9 inches on the load water-line, with 12
feet beam. Her record for 1898 was thirteen starts and thirteen firsts.
_13 Starts._ _13 Firsts._
May 16th.—Norwalk.
May 30th.—Norwalk.
June 25th.—Indian Harbor.
July 2d.—New Rochelle.
July 4th.—Larchmont.
July 9th.—Riverside.
July 14th.—Seawanhaka; won in 30-foot class by eight minutes actual
time.
July 23d.—Norwalk.
July 30th.—Indian Harbor; won on resail.
August 13th.—Horseshoe; 30-foot class by twenty-six minutes.
August 20th.—Huguenot.
August 26th.—Huntington.
September 3d.—Atlantic.
25-foot cabin catboat _Wanda_: 21ft. 9in., l. w. l.; 30ft. o. a.; beam
12ft. Designed and built by the Herreshoff Manufacturing Co., Bristol,
R. I. Owned by F. T. Bedford, Jr., Brooklyn, N. Y.
[Illustration:
MID-SECTION OF “EVOLUTION.”
]
[Illustration:
SHEER-PLAN OF “EVOLUTION.”
]
[Illustration:
LINES OF “JULLANAR.”
]
By a glance at the illustration of _Wanda_ (p. 104) it will be seen that
Mr. Nat Herreshoff, her designer, has introduced the modified form of
fin-keel which he exploited so successfully in _Vigilant_. _Wanda_, in
point of fact, was designed and built to elude the measurement rule in
force at the time of her creation. Like _Gloriana_, when heeled, she
gets the benefit of long overhangs forward and aft, while at the same
time she escapes the penalty of excessive length on the load water-line.
Taking into consideration all her features, it must be candidly
acknowledged that she is the most “scientific” catboat that
“tonnage-cheating” ingenuity ever devised. Both the principles of yacht
designing that worked so admirably in _Vigilant_ and _Gloriana_, namely
the large lateral plane and the increased water-line length, when
heeled, have been embodied in _Wanda_. The result has been a gratifying
success. Catboats of the olden time used to measure about the same
length over all and on the water-line. It remained for Mr. Herreshoff to
produce a boat 21 feet on the water-line with an over-all length of 30
feet.
[Illustration:
“JUBILEE.”
]
[Illustration:
“DILEMMA.”
]
[Illustration:
“NIAGARA’S” LINES.
]
In marked contrast to the _Wanda_ is the catboat _Dorothy_, which is
quite famous, both as a cruiser and a racer, on Long Island Sound. She
is a sturdy boat that can give a good account of herself in a blow, and,
in addition to this most excellent quality, she has a nice roomy cabin,
in which every inch of space is utilized. Her mast is well secured by
means of stays and spreaders, and, as may be seen from the illustration,
her rig is scientific and down to date.
[Illustration:
ENGLISH FIN-KEEL FREAK “NAMELESS.”
]
The _Dorothy_ is interesting as showing the transition stage between the
old-fashioned catboat and the new _Wanda_, which is sure to become
popular as a racing machine, but from her limited accommodations is not
likely to be much sought after as a correct type for mere cruising.
[Illustration:
“ROCKET,” 1851.
]
[Illustration:
“NIAGARA.”
]
I have said before that _Evolution_ was the parent of the ballast fin,
and in an article I wrote for OUTING many years ago I think I made out a
good case. She was designed by Mr. E. H. Bentall, an English
manufacturer of ploughs and other agricultural implements, whose famous
yawl, _Jullanar_, created a sensation when she came out in 1875, from
the circumstance that the deadwood was cut away fore and aft in the most
audacious manner. She was, perhaps, the most original tonnage cheater
ever built, as a study of her plans will show. The cutting away of her
forefoot was followed by Mr. G. L. Watson in his design of _Thistle_,
but he overdid it, leaving the yacht without sufficient lateral plane
for successful windward work. _Jullanar’s_ dimensions follow: Length
over all, 110 feet 6 inches; depth of hold, 12 feet; length on load
water-line, 99 feet; extreme beam, 16 feet 10 inches; draught forward, 1
foot 6 inches; draught aft, 13 feet 6 inches.
[Illustration:
“NIAGARA’S” MIDSHIP SECTION.
]
_Evolution_ was launched in 1880. She was built to sail in the ten-ton
class, and was the first yacht of which I can find any record to carry a
bulb of lead on the keel. The transition to the Herreshoff fin-keel was
natural and easy.
The first yacht to be fitted with a weighted centerboard was _Rocket_,
whose sheer-plan and mid-section are on p. 112.
[Illustration:
“RORQUAL,” TWO AND ONE-HALF RATER, 1894.
]
_Niagara_, a most successful yacht of the bulb-fin type, was designed by
Mr. Nat Herreshoff for Mr. Howard Gould in 1895. She made a splendid
record that year in British waters. She was sailed by Captain John Barr,
who was skipper of _Thistle_ when _Volunteer_ beat her in 1887.
[Illustration:
“DAD.”
]
[Illustration:
“VESPER.”
]
_Jubilee_, a fin-keel, with lead bulb and two centerboards, was designed
by General Paine for a possible Cup defender in 1893. She was 122 feet
over all, 84 feet 6 inches on the water-line, 22 feet 6 inches extreme
beam, and had a draught of 13 feet 9 inches. She competed in the trial
races of 1893 against _Vigilant_, _Colonia_ and _Pilgrim_, and was
unsuccessful.
Fin-keels of the freak variety were produced in large quantities on both
sides of the Atlantic, following each other in quick succession. Two of
English design are shown in the illustrations. One is the _Rorqual_, the
other the _Nameless_. Neither proved successful.
The last five years have been remarkable for the prolific production of
“freaks” and monstrosities, three of which I show, the _Skate_, _Vesper_
and _Dad_, all racing machines. In marked contrast to these abortions is
the Seawanhaka knockabout _Kewaydin_, a wholesome type of boat with many
good qualities to recommend it. I advise all my readers to fight shy of
“freaks,” especially those of flimsy construction.
As a matter of history it may be mentioned that the centerboard schooner
_Vesta_, in the midwinter ocean race of 1866, and the centerboard
schooner _Iroquois_, in the blizzard of March, 1888, both acquitted
themselves admirably, much to the surprise of the prejudiced devotees of
the keel type.
[Illustration:
MONSTROSITY “SKATE.”
]
The double-hull type of craft came prominently before the yachting
fraternity in 1898, and will doubtless be exploited in many ingenious
ways hereafter. The development of a type of vessel whose origin is lost
in the mist of antiquity into a racing machine like the twenty-footer
_Dominion_ attracted the attention of naval architects generally to Mr.
Herrick Duggan, the Canadian yacht designer, who for three consecutive
years has humbled the pride of the Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club by
keeping in Kanuck hands the cherished international challenge cup, won
with singular ease off Oyster Bay in 1896.
[Illustration:
FIG. I. THE “DOMINION,” ON EVEN KEEL.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. II. THE “DOMINION,” HEELED.
]
Mr. Duggan, of course, did not pretend to be the originator of a new
type of sailing craft, but he may safely lay claim to whatever laurels
are due to the faculty of astute adaptation. He succeeded in a field
where others tried and failed. He skillfully modified the principle of
the Malay proa, and introduced its salient characteristics into a vessel
small indeed in the matter of dimensions, but huge when its inherent
scientific possibilities are considered. Since Nat Herreshoff made
practicable the crude fin-keel of former designers, no such interesting
phase of marine architecture has been evolved.
As a matter of historical fact, it remained for Mr. Duggan to revive
interest in the type, and this he did most effectually by the production
of _Dominion_. The craft has given rise to much discussion among
yachtsmen and in the press, both at home and abroad. The point of
sailing in which _Dominion_ excels is close-hauled on a wind or with the
wind abeam. It is then that she sails on her lee hull only, the weather
hull serving the same purpose as the ballast of a “sand bagger,”
enabling her to carry a good press of sail. This is shown by Figure II.,
which portrays her when heeled. With the wind dead aft and both hulls
immersed, _Dominion_ in the races at Dorval was slightly slower than her
rival, her paramount advantage being gained when sailing with one hull
immersed.
_Dominion’s_ dimensions are: Length over all, 35 feet 10 inches; on load
water-line, 17 feet 6 inches; extreme beam, 7 feet 7½ inches; beam, load
water-line one bilge, 2 feet 5½ inches; draught of hull, 10 inches;
draught with board, 6 feet; freeboard, 1 foot; displacement, 1,750 lbs.;
area midship section, total 2.88 square feet; sail area, 500 square
feet.
[Illustration:
“DOMINION.”
]
I remember how fascinated I was as a boy by the perusal of “Lord Anson’s
Voyage Round the World,” telling how that famous English navigator, in
his stout ship _Centurion_, doubled Cape Horn in 1740, visited the
romantic isle of Juan Fernandez, and enriched himself and his
accompanying bold sea-dogs by the capture of a Spanish galleon literally
laden with treasure. Incidentally, the book describes the surprise
experienced by the ship’s company at the first sight of the proa, as
used by the natives of the Ladrones. In a copy of the first edition of
the work, in my father’s library, was a quaint illustration of the proa
under sail, with a plan drawn to scale, from which I made a crude model,
and sailed her on an arm of the sea that washed the beach not fifty
yards from our front door. I was not slow to recognize the advantage of
the type in windward work. It was my good fortune in the year 1870, from
the deck of the East Indiaman _Hurkaru_, bound to Madras, to obtain my
first view of the Singhalese type of flying proa off the coast of
Ceylon. The sight was novel and picturesque, and, being young and
impressionable in those days, it was photographed indelibly on my mind.
The southwest monsoon was blowing briskly and the _Hurkaru_ was
bowling along with stunsails set at a nine-knot gait. It was my
forenoon watch below, and I was suddenly awakened by a shipmate who
invited me on deck to look at the “queerest craft I ever saw.” Turning
out in a hurry I followed him, and from the topgallant forecastle saw
the proa in the act of shooting across our bows. The breeze piped at a
“three-man power,” for that number of lithe and swarthy lascars
straddled the outrigger to windward, hanging on by their eyelids,
after the manner of mariners the seas over. The sail that propelled
this craft was of the sprit variety, but was made of cotton stuff and
not of matting, as was the sail described in “Anson’s Voyage.” She
darted past us, with rare velocity, throwing the spray over her crew
in fine style. There were six or seven of them in the main hull of the
proa, the helmsman steering with a rather long paddle. After she had
cleared the ship’s bows she luffed up sharp and seemed to point almost
in the wind’s eye, the sail sitting quite flat, unlike the sails of
the ordinary “country wallah,” which are, as a rule, of the baggy
kind. I judged her speed at about sixteen knots—certainly not less.
The mast and sprit of her sail were of bamboo, the rigging of kyar.
Subsequently I had several opportunities of inspecting these proas,
and subjecting them to a close examination—notably at Pointe de Galle,
where the _Hurkaru_ touched to take in cargo on her homeward voyage.
[Illustration:
THE DOUBLE-HULLER OF THE PACIFIC.
]
The main portion of the hull proper consists of a trunk of a tree
hollowed out and hewn into symmetrical shape, bow and stern both being
pointed. The bilge of the weather side is neatly rounded, while the lee
side is as flat as the side of a half model of a vessel that is nailed
to a board. Cut a double-end boat in two longitudinally, take one of the
sections and nail on planks so as to form a wall-like side, and you have
a fair imitation of the principle of the main hull of the Singhalese
proa. To this trunk, when hewn into shape, are fastened the topsides,
which consist of planks of suitable length and thickness bound with
lashings of kyar rope, the seams being calked with cocoanut fibre, which
swells when water-soaked. Not a nail is used in the construction of the
craft, it resembling in this detail the famous Masoolah boats of the
Madras coast. In all its essentials the characteristics of the proa of
the Ladrones described by Anson are reproduced. The cigar-shaped log,
which is connected to the main hull by bamboo outriggers (which give the
necessary elasticity) and kyar lashings, is hewn out of a solid and
rather heavy tree. This gives the required stability, and in a strong
breeze pretty nearly all hands “hike out” to windward on it, leaving
only the helmsmen (one at each end) aboard the main ship. It need not be
said that the Singhalese are as nearly amphibious as it is possible for
human bipeds to be.
IV.
FITTING OUT AND TUNING UP.
HINTS AS TO GOING INTO COMMISSION AND MAKING THE CRAFT FIT FOR A RACE.
We will now assume that, either by buying or building, the amateur
yachtsman has come into possession of a craft which he intends to race
this season. If he has had the vessel built to his order, the designer
will have seen that she complies with the specifications, which, of
course, include all gear necessary for her mug-hunting efforts. If he
has purchased a second-hand vessel, after having her surveyed by a
competent naval architect it might be well to learn from him what
repairs, if any, are needed to her hull or rigging. The next thing to do
is to obtain estimates for making the repairs; and unless the yachtsman
is an old hand at the business, and knows approximately what should be
the cost of such work, I should advise him to obtain figures from two or
more concerns if extensive work is called for.
It is unbusinesslike and unsatisfactory to order a master shipwright to
haul a yacht out and make such alterations and repairs as he may deem
requisite, but examples of such fatuousness have been known and have
afforded much profit to lawyers and much unhappiness to clients on both
sides. A shipwright may have views of his own about a racing yacht, and
it is inadvisable to give _carte blanche_ to any builder of ships, or
even of houses.
In these days of progress in yacht naval architecture, to the man of
sentiment there will always be one source of regret. The owner of a
successful yacht that has gallantly won scores of well-contested races
and has proudly flaunted a superb string of racing flags at the close of
her second season, cannot help having an affection for his vessel,
especially if she was designed and built to his order. To think that
after a few short seasons she has become outclassed—a regular back
number—naturally awakens many sad reflections.
Old-timers remember that racing craft, when their cup-winning days were
over, were converted into comfortable cruising craft, fishing-boats, or
pilot cutters. Nowadays such a transition is impossible. In many cases
an expensive fin-keel is outclassed in a single season, and I have yet
to learn what use she can be put to when her career after cups comes to
an inglorious finish. Her lead, metal bolts, spars, sails and rigging
may fetch a fraction of their first cost in a junk-shop; but few
yachtsmen would care to buy a vessel of the kind indicated for cruising
or fishing purposes, not only because of the lack of accommodation, but
also on account of the unhandiness of the fixed fin, whose vicious
qualities can never be fully appreciated until one happens to get stuck
in the mud or sand with the tide fast ebbing and no tug in sight or any
other means of hauling off into deep water available.
In the good old days of yacht racing it was customary to lengthen, “hip
out,” rebuild and otherwise alter a boat that showed signs of having
outlived her usefulness, and in a rejuvenated condition bring her to the
line again and with her achieve new conquests. Such a method is rarely
resorted to nowadays. In fact, it is doubtful whether it would pay. Mr.
J. Rogers Maxwell, who owned the schooner _Emerald_, is one of the few
yachtsmen in this country who, of late years, have made extensive
alterations in large racing vessels with any degree of success. He
practically rebuilt the sloop _Shamrock_, and greatly improved her
speed, and has twice made radical changes in the _Emerald_ at great
expense, both processes making her slightly faster.
[Illustration:
SLOOP “GRACIE.”
]
[Illustration:
SCHOONER “SAPPHO.”
]
[Illustration:
CUTTER “GENESTA.”
]
Among the many yachts which were altered often and extensively may be
mentioned the famous sloop _Gracie_, designed and built at
Nyack-on-the-Hudson, by A. Polhemus. She was launched in July, 1868, her
dimensions being 60 feet 3 inches over all, 58 feet on the water-line,
18 feet 8 inches beam, 5 feet 6 inches depth of hold, and 5 feet
draught. Her center board was lengthened 2 feet aft in 1869. She was
altered in 1874, and when completed measured as follows: length over
all, 72 feet 9 inches; on water-line 62 feet; beam, 20 feet 6 inches;
depth of hold, 6 feet 6 inches; draught 5 feet 8 inches. In 1879 she was
rebuilt by David Carll, at City Island, her length over all being 79
feet 10 inches, on water-line 72 feet 2 inches; beam, 21 feet 6 inches;
depth of hold, 7 feet 2 inches, and draught, 6 feet 6 inches. In 1886
she was given 12 inches more freeboard. She sailed in the trial races
against _Bedouin_, _Puritan_, and _Priscilla_, for the honor of
defending the _America’s_ cup against _Genesta_, but that task was given
to _Puritan_.
The keel cutter _Colonia_, built by Herreshoff as a cup defender to sail
against _Valkyrie II._, proved less fast than _Vigilant_. Her fault was
a deficiency of lateral plane, which made her sag off bodily to leeward
in a most discouraging manner. After serving as a drill ship for the
crew of the _Defender_ in 1895, she was purchased by Commodore Clarence
A. Postley, fitted with a centerboard from a plan by Cary Smith, at
Lewis Nixon’s shipyard, and rigged as a schooner. She is now (1899) the
crack American “two-sticker.”
Old-timers will recollect how slow the schooner _Sappho_ was until Capt.
“Bob” Fish hit upon the bold expedient of “hipping her out,” which was
done by swelling out her midship section about fourteen inches, and
tapering it off to nothing about thirty feet each way. The result was
that _Sappho_, theretofore so sluggish that she could scarcely get out
of her own way, beat nearly every craft bold enough to encounter her,
and won many cups and much kudos for her sportsmanlike owner, Mr.
William P. Douglas. Mr. A. Cass Canfield altered the sloop _Priscilla_
considerably, but it cannot be said that he was altogether successful.
When _Volunteer_ was transformed into a schooner her forebody was
reconstructed, and she made an enviable record as a “two-sticker;” but
when rerigged as a sloop she never showed an approach to her original
splendid form, as I think most yachtsmen will frankly concede.
[Illustration:
SCHOONER “COLONIA.”
]
Our British cousins used to have a perfect craze for rebuilding famous
yachts, the old crack cutters _Alarm_ and _Arrow_—both celebrated
prize-winners—being notable examples of this ruling passion. But both
here and in England the custom of materially altering the form of a
yacht’s hull in the hope of improving her speed may be said to have gone
completely out of fashion. This is doubtless due to the radical and
rapid changes in hulls, brought about by the frequently shifting rules
of measurement for time allowance and the artfully ingenious methods of
generations of yacht designers to get the better of those selfsame
rules.
I only mention these just to give a practical illustration of the way
the old-timers used to alter and rebuild their beloved boats. The custom
is now obsolete. If a racing machine of the present day is not
outclassed in her third season she is looked upon as quite a smart
craft. It may thus be perceived that conditions have altered
considerably during the last decade.
On general principles it is unwise to go in for very extensive
alterations on a yacht of any kind, whether cruiser or racer. If,
however, you are determined to go ahead, I advise you to be sure to have
an iron-clad contract as to cost.
[Illustration:
Rig of Cutter showing Masthead Shroud.
]
While your boat is being repaired or altered, ship your sailing-master,
scrutinizing his references as to ability and character with care, and
if possible supplement this examination by an interview with his last
employer before engaging him.
Of course, much depends upon the size of your craft and the depth of
your pocket. A Hank Haff or a Charley Barr would be too expensive a
luxury for a craft of modest dimensions, and a boat-owner in matters of
this kind must depend much upon his own judgment; it is impossible to
give him advice except in the most general way.
The work of fitting out a racing yacht preparatory to tuning up for the
season’s sport is exceptionally interesting to the real amateur, but the
owner who has no true regard for yachting generally finds the process
somewhat of a bore. In “Boat Sailing, Fair Weather and Foul,” a
companion volume to this book, there is a chapter on “The Overhauling of
a Yacht,” which contains a useful wrinkle or two, of which the reader
may avail himself if he feels so disposed. The same is true of the
chapter on “Laying up for the Winter,” which is indorsed by naval
architects and practical seamen.
It is customary with some builders to have a sail-loft annex to the
shipyard, and these men are, in most cases, anxious to contract for the
sails as well as for the hull of a boat. I should not advise any yacht
owner who contemplates racing his craft to employ anyone but the most
skilful manipulator of duck to make his sails, which are of as much
consequence as the hull itself so far as the winning of cups and prizes
is concerned.
The man of fashion, ambitious of being well attired, so as to shine
socially, doesn’t go to Baxter street for a dress suit. Neither does a
yachtsman patronize a tentmaker for a racing mainsail or a well-cut jib.
There is no objection to the shipbuilder contracting for the sails if he
desires to make a little extra money, but the yacht owner should take
care that the name of the sailmaker appears in the contract, and this
will be a sufficient guarantee for first-class work. There are many
firms in the United States justly famous as yacht sailmakers, and these
are of such high standing that their names marked on the sails supplied
insures the best in the way of cut and the quality of material. It is a
great mistake to exercise any cheeseparing economy on a yacht’s means of
propulsion, whether it be steam or duck. The best in the market, whether
it be machinery or sails, is none too good.
A cruising craft with a slovenly or slatternly owner may, perhaps, be
content with a suit of sails that fits like a purser’s shirt on a
handspike, with a mainsail all abag and head-sails that would disgrace a
coal barge; but even a cruising craft may be caught on a lee shore with
a gale of wind, and perhaps the owner will curse his fatuous economy
when he has tried in vain to claw off the beach with his baggy sails and
finds that his craft is crunching to pieces in the surf and he himself
is struggling for life in the treacherous undertow.
The cost of racing sails is high, and, ordinarily, a yacht that goes the
cup-hunting circuit needs a new mainsail every season. Under careful
management, however, a mainsail, with good luck, has been known to do
good service for two summers. The quality of cotton duck has improved
appreciably of late, owing to a better method of manufacture, and sails
“sit” better and do not “bag” as they used to. Cotton is king, so far as
racing sails go, in Europe as well as America, flax having been entirely
superseded by it. The change from flax to cotton began in England about
1893.
The rig of a racing yacht should be no more neglected than her sails.
The spars should be hollow on 20-footers and all in excess of that
class. The standing rigging should be of silver-steel wire, set up by
turnbuckles. The blocks should be strong and light, and the running
rigging of the best quality. There should not be a superfluous ounce of
weight in the craft alow or aloft if the winning of cups is what the
owner has in view.
Rigging screws or turnbuckles, which have superseded deadeyes and
lanyards for the setting up of standing rigging, were first used in 1877
on the English cutter _Verve_. They are used now on all racing yachts.
In the old days of reefing bowsprits it was quite a usual event to carry
away several bobstays during the season. The long overhang forward of
the modern yacht has reduced the length of the bowsprit, and
consequently the strain on the spar when pitching into a heavy head sea.
The overhang also gives better facilities for handling the head-sails.
Flexible silver-steel wire rope is now used for running rigging in many
yachts, notably for runners and runner tackles, and also for peak and
throat halyards.
The best spars for large yachts are made of Oregon fir. This splendid
wood is the best in the world for the purpose. Some spars have been
known to measure nearly 40 inches in diameter, and some 172 feet long;
the average length of spars shipped to Atlantic ports from the Pacific
coast is 90 feet, and the diameter 22 to 23 inches. Oregon fir is
stronger than spruce or white pine, and hence less diameter is required
for the same height. Spruce is in general use for the spars of smaller
craft. Steel booms for racing yachts were first used on _Defender_ and
_Valkyrie III._
The greatest improvements in the rigging of yachts of recent years have
been the masthead shrouds, bridles on gaffs, and the comparatively new
throat-halyard pennants. In a spanking breeze there is a great strain on
the masthead, also much play, but by the adoption of the three devices
mentioned the strains are both minimized and equalized. Large vessels
carry double masthead shrouds, and smaller craft single ones. _Vigilant_
was, I believe, the first American yacht to be fitted with them. Now
they are carried by every craft of consequence. Gaff bridles and
throat-halyard pennants are indispensable to the rigging of every racing
yacht from the smallest cat to the largest schooner.
If your craft is large enough to spread two shrouds on each side, have
them fitted in pairs. A bight and a good seizing are preferable to two
single eyes.
The bowsprit-shroud outriggers or spreaders should be bolted fast to the
ship without any hinged joint. This prevents any unnecessary play when
the boat plunges bows under in a heavy head sea. There should be the
same length of shroud between the spreader and the bowsprit end, and the
spreader and the turnbuckle which sets them up. The strain is thus
divided equally and advantageously. The bobstay spreader or
dolphin-striker should always have a hinged joint.
The rigging of _Uncas_ is fitted as follows: Bobstay, 2½-inch steel
wire; forestay, 2-inch do.; jibstay, 1¼-inch do.; bowsprit shrouds,
1½-inch do.; standing rigging, 1¼-inch do.; masthead shroud, 1⅜-inch
do.; topmast gear, all 1-inch do.; runner shrouds, 1¼-inch do.; spring
stay, 1½-inch do.; main lifts, 1½-inch flexible 19-thread steel wire;
gaff bridles, 1¼-inch do.; peak and throat halyards, 2¼-inch manila
bolt-rope; main sheet, 2-inch do.; fore sheet, 1¾-inch do.; head-sheets
and minor gear in proportion.
The _Vigil_, of similar design, is rigged precisely the same, with the
exception that her main peak and throat halyards are of 1-inch flexible
steel wire, the fore peak and throat halyards of ⅝-inch do.;
club-topsail halyards, ⅝-inch do.
Lengths of manila are so spliced to these flexible wire halyards that
when they are belayed the splice is about six feet above the deck. This
flexible steel answers remarkably well. When once set up, it stays set
up. There is no “give” to it, and thus frequent “swaying on it,” as is
the case with hemp rope, is quite unnecessary.
[Illustration:
RIG AND SAIL PLAN OF “UNCAS.”
]
A modern 25-foot-water-line single-sticker with a pole mast, is rigged
as follows: Bobstay, rod of steel ¾-inch in diameter, set up with a
turnbuckle at end of bowsprit; shrouds, two on each side, 1⅛-inch steel
wire; forestay set up to stem head, 1¼-inch do.; jib set flying, hoisted
with ¾-inch 8-stranded flexible steel halyards, set up with a
jig-purchase; runner shrouds of ⅝-inch steel wire canvased over; main
lifts, ¾-inch flexible steel wire, painted, parceled, served over with
white cod-line, and then covered with white canvas sewed on; the throat
and peak halyards are of ¾-inch flexible steel wire. The blocks are all
strapped with grommets of flexible steel wire, served and leathered.
From these examples a fair idea of the modern method of rigging a racing
craft may be gathered. Strength, lightness, and neatness are the
qualities sought and attained. Steel wire is now largely used for the
leech ropes of sails, and it is strongly recommended by our “swellest”
sailmakers.
The above I owe to my old seafaring friend, John F. Byno, who put the
neatest splice ever seen in the Brooklyn Bridge cable, and is an expert
with the marlinspike, as all the members of the Seawanhaka Corinthian
Yacht Club can bear witness.
[Illustration:
No. 1. Side view of main masthead.
No. 2. Back view of main masthead.
MASTHEADS OF “UNCAS.”
]
[Illustration:
No. 3. Side view of fore masthead.
No. 4. Back view of fore masthead.
MASTHEADS OF “UNCAS.”
]
Flexible steel wire rope is nearly if not quite as pliable as new hemp
rope of the same strength. It is made with nineteen wires to the strand.
The greater the diameter of the sheaves over which it passes, the longer
it will last. The manufacturers recommend as a preservative a mixture of
linseed oil and pine tar. It is impossible to belay wire rope to a
cleat, as it will surely “render” or slip. Manila rope is therefore
spliced to the hauling end of the wire, which makes it pleasanter to
haul on, and insures its remaining fast after it is once belayed. I
would not counsel a lubber to try to splice wire and rope together,
unless in the privacy of a separate room. Why? Because the bystanders
would be sure to laugh. It takes an artist to make this most difficult
splice.
Grommet straps for blocks made of flexible steel wire cannot be
surpassed. After making the grommet, paint well with raw linseed oil and
white lead; parcel with canvas, serve with marline, apply another coat
of paint, and then cover with leather or canvas sewn on. For neatness,
strength, and durability this method is superior to any other. But it
requires an expert to do the work.
With regard to turnbuckles for setting up all kinds of standing rigging,
it must be conceded that they are indispensable for racing craft both
large and small. One advantage of deadeye and lanyard for deep-water
cruising is that if it should be necessary to cut away the mast to save
the ship when hove on her beam ends, a cut with an axe will sever the
weather lanyards and away goes the mast. The turnbuckle cannot be cut. A
combination of turnbuckle, and deadeye and lanyard, might be fitted so
as to combine the advantages of both.
[Illustration:
CUTTER “MINERVA.”
]
The bulwarks of racing yachts have been reduced in height to mere
battens. All deck fittings have been lightened as much as the designers
dared. All with the intention of reducing weight, ironwork on spars
looks very frail when compared with that of a decade ago, and the weight
of blocks has been diminished in some cases more than fifty per cent.
The abolition of all cabin fittings first took place in the Marquis of
Ailsa’s _Bloodhound_, built in 1874. All she had in her cabin was a seat
along each side.
It is only comparatively recently that yacht designers have made serious
efforts to reduce weight aloft. Sometimes they have gone too far. I
remember a 40-foot cutter, built to sail against the Scotch cutter
_Minerva_. She was dismasted in a puff on the occasion of her first
race, which was also her maiden sail. The same mishap befell her later
on in a fine sailing breeze off Newport. I was on the committee boat
which towed her into port. If she hadn’t been well handled after being
disabled some serious accident might have happened to her hull. The
accident was ascribed to defective ironwork.
It is of no benefit to stay the masts of pleasure vessels with rigging
heavy enough for a great brig. A sense of proportion should be observed.
Scientific men have calculated and tabulated the stress and strain that
wood, metal, wire and hempen rope will bear, and these tables may be
consulted by anybody able to read.
It is a fact that piano wire plays a leading part in the rigging of some
of the down-to-date little racing freaks one meets nowadays, especially
in fresh water where it is less exposed to corrosion. It is highly
spoken of by those who have used it. Better, however, not to go to
extremes and always to beware of a spider-web rig. Like flimsy
construction it causes a yacht to come to grief.
[Illustration:
SAIL PLAN OF “ETHELWYNN.”
]
A good example of lightness of rig was the 15-footer _Ethelwynn_,
designed by Mr. W. P. Stephens, to defend the International Challenge
Cup of the Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club. It will be remembered that
she beat Mr. Brand’s _Spruce IV._, which boat was quite heavily rigged
when compared with the American craft. The mast was a hollow spar of 4¼
inches, a far too heavy stick, as experience proved, for one of 3 inches
and about half the weight would have been sufficiently strong. The
hollow boom was 2¾ inches diameter in the slings. The rigging was of
phosphor-bronze wire rope, the forestay being ³⁄₃₂-inch diameter,
shrouds ³⁄₁₆-inch diameter, and runners ⅛-inch. Main and jib halyards
were of the same material, ⅛-inch diameter. The main-halyard ran over a
2-inch sheave in the masthead, a single part with a whip-tackle at the
deck. The jib-halyard was double with a jig. The running rigging was of
imported English cord. She carried 198 square feet of duck.
[Illustration:
HALF RATER “SPRUCE IV.”
]
[Illustration:
FIFTEEN-FOOTER “ETHELWYNN.”
]
I am indebted to Mr. Stephens for the description and the accompanying
sail plan.
J. M. James, Vice-Commodore of the Imperial Model Yacht Club, of Tokio,
Japan, is enthusiastic in praise of lacquer as a coating for the outside
skin of yachts. He says that all the club’s models have their topsides
and bottoms lacquered; and after numerous experiments for testing those
thus treated against painted craft an increase of speed, amounting to
ten per cent., was found in favor of the lacquered ones. A model yacht
once well lacquered, with care and barring accidents, will last a
lifetime and retain its luster. He says that all the Japanese naval
ships have their bottoms lacquered. The lacquer gives increased speed
and almost prevents fouling, and if properly put on lasts for three
years. The only drawback is that the process is very expensive.
Here is an opportunity for some enterprising individual to experiment
with lacquer. If he proves successful he will gain the gratitude of
yachtsmen. Incidentally, he will also win a large pecuniary reward.
In the matter of a compass the racing yachtsman should be careful. In
thick weather, when steering for a mark, it is necessary that the
deviation for every point should be known. In wooden yachts there is no
difficulty, if ordinary precautions are taken, in keeping compasses
exact. In iron and steel yachts they have to be licked into shape by a
professional adjuster of reputation.
In spite of opinions to the contrary, held by old salts, the compass is
not affected by fog, thunder, or attraction of land. It should be
remembered, however, that magnetism exerts its magical influence through
all bodies, no matter how dense, while light, heat and electricity do
not possess this wonderful property.
Thus, casing an iron bulkhead with wood or covering an iron stanchion
with copper or canvas will not prevent the metal from affecting the
compass. It may be thought superfluous to assert such a well-known
scientific fact in this year of the world, but experience teaches me
that there is still much to be learned by those who go down to the sea
in yachts.
It is not generally known that no iron vessel has been struck by
lightning. The wooden spars have been shattered frequently by the
electric fluid, but, owing to the circumstance that water is a better
conductor than iron, the hull of an iron vessel has never suffered. If
the spars of an iron ship are made of iron, the vessel may be looked
upon as immune from disaster by lightning.
As soon as your craft is fitted out place her in commission, and proceed
to become acquainted with her. Prizes are won only by hard work, and if
you intend to make a record for yourself and your craft you can attain
your end by honest industry only.
Part of the sea-jockey’s stock in trade is to discover how slow a yacht
may be made to go with every stitch of sail set ostensibly to the best
advantage, with sheets pulling like horses and trimmed to perfection. It
is only the most subtle and knowing customer that can so master a yacht
as to excel in this. The most accomplished proficient I ever knew was
the skipper of the Scotch ten-ton cutter _Madge_, which came over in
1881, and created a great revolution in yachting. That man could make
the boat almost speak. By manipulating the sheets, slacking one or
flattening in another, and by other tricks unknown to this deponent, I
have seen him allow an oyster-boat to beat the crack racing cutter. The
name of that canny skipper was Duncan. The Yankee captains who sailed
against him are not likely to forget it.
I remember reading somewhere about a yacht skipper of experience who
fooled a younger rival and caused him much unhappiness during a hotly
contested race on the Solent. It was blowing a piping breeze, and
_Sally_, the rival craft, had one reef in her mainsail and the topmast
struck. _Bantam_, on the other hand, was the stiffer of the two, and
held on to the whole mainsail, but also dowsed topmast. _Sally_ had
passed _Bantam_, and was leading her some fifty yards. Both yachts were
at that time sheltered by the land, but a few hundred yards ahead a big
sea was running in the West Channel.
It was at this moment that the sly old sea-dog played his low-down trick
on the green young skipper, who was watching his every action.
“Up with the topmast, lads!” yelled Captain Sly of the _Bantam_.
His crew made a great pretense of swaying away on the heel rope, but
somehow or other it got jammed and stayed jammed, in spite of the
apparent efforts made to clear it.
Captain Green thought he would be smart. He sent up his topmast in
seamanlike style. The topsail was set just as the _Sally_ encountered
the heavy sea in the channel. She made one dive and buried herself up to
the skylight. The pressure was too much for her. In an instant
_Bantam’s_ topmast was housed, and all the gear fast again, and while
_Sally_ was pitching and ’scending in the choppy sea _Bantam_ crawled
through her lee and beat her. Captain Green was so demoralized by the
trick of which he was the victim that he did not regain his
self-possession until it was too late.
Captain Sly was convinced that Captain Green would imitate him in
everything, and the result proved that he had formed a correct estimate
of his opponent.
It is not wise or politic to undervalue the sailing qualities of an
opposing yacht, especially when she is practically an unknown quantity.
In other words, don’t prophesy unless you know. Here is a case in point:
When the _Madge_ was about due to sail her first race in these waters,
the skipper of her Yankee opponent is said to have paid a visit to
Sawyer, the sailmaker, and asked for the loan of some flying kites.
“Any old stuff will do,” quoth the skipper. “I’ve only got to knock out
that narrow-gutted coffin anchored yonder.”
The sails were lent by Mr. Sawyer, and it is needless to say that they
did _not_ fit “like paint on a post.” The “coffin” beat the “skimming
dish” with singular ease.
I put this little yarn on record only just to show the contempt the
average American yachtsman had at that time for the epoch-making
_Madge_.
The proper balancing of sails is imperative when racing. To illustrate
my meaning I need only refer to the decisive race between _Vigilant_ and
_Valkyrie_ for the _America’s_ Cup, which all but resulted in the
winning of the race by the British yacht. In point of fact, _Valkyrie_,
had not her two spinnakers blown away, would have romped in
victoriously. In the beat to the outward mark _Vigilant_ carried a
reefed mainsail and a big jib, and, for the first time in her history,
required lee helm. This blunder, in addition to her centerboard becoming
jammed, made _Valkyrie_ beat her 1m. 55s. on the windward leg.
_Valkyrie_ had a half-reef in her mainsail, but shifted her jib and set
one whose center of effort was in exact accord with the reduced
after-canvas. _Vigilant_ won by forty seconds only, and had it not been
for the _Valkyrie’s_ hard luck would have been badly defeated.
On July 13, 1889, the _Katrina_, while racing against the _Titania_ in a
reefing breeze, carrying a big jib and a reefed mainsail, suffered a
like deserved defeat. Under her ill-balanced sail-spread, for the first
time in her history, she, too, carried lee helm, and sagged off to
leeward like a haystack adrift. She made a pitiable exhibition of
herself, and all hands rejoiced when her main boom snapped off and
permitted her to withdraw without disgrace. Meanwhile _Titania_,
splendidly handled by Captain Haff and Mr. C. Oliver Iselin, sailed over
the course and won the race.
[Illustration:
FORTY-FOOTER “GOSSOON.”
]
It is interesting to note that the mishaps to both _Katrina_ and
_Vigilant_ occurred on the 13th of the month.
The jibtopsail when a yacht is close-hauled is of very little use,
especially in a bit of a breeze. Some skippers set what is known as a
“baby-jibtopsail” when the wind is very light. It is questionable if the
sail is of any benefit at all under such circumstances. In my opinion,
the sail makes the boat’s head sag off to leeward, lee helm being the
result. If no such sail were made, I think it would never be missed. Of
course, with the wind free the jibtopsail, from its most diminutive size
to its most extreme balloon development, is a very valuable sail.
In taking note of the speed of boats the length should be considered. I
remember that the 40-footer _Gossoon_, the conqueror of the Scotch
cutter _Minerva_ in 1890, without any tide to help or retard her, made
in a race I saw an average of nine knots an hour. This means that to
accomplish this feat she had to run her length in 2¾ seconds. A little
reflection will show that this is a remarkable achievement for so small
a vessel.
It may be mentioned here that a nautical mile, a knot, and a
geographical mile are one and the same thing. A knot equals 1.15 statute
miles. Multiply the number of knots by 1.15, and you have the distance
in statute miles. There are 6,080 feet in a knot; 5,280 feet in a
statute mile.
Chronometers should be kept free from damp, dust, and draughts. When
winding turn the key steadily, avoiding any jerky action. Most of them
require seven and a half turns of the key. Wind slowly and steadily as
far as the mechanism will permit. Wind punctually at the same hour every
day. A chronometer that has run down, on being wound up again, will
probably not start until it has been quickly but not violently slued
half round and back again. This is easily done by placing the instrument
on the table, and turning it horizontally between the hands. Take care
that the instrument has neither too much nor too little side-play in the
gimbals. A standard compass stowed away, while in port, close to a
chronometer has been known to ruin the going of the watch, the powerful
compass needles having by induction magnetized the steel portion of the
balance. Do not stow a chronometer close to an iron bulkhead, an iron
vessel’s side, the upper or lower end of a vertical iron stanchion, or
within eight feet of compass compensating magnets. The chronometer case
should not be screwed down to a table containing drawers which might
possibly be used to hold spare compass cards. Chronometers should be
kept away from iron almost as religiously as compasses.
Jolting in a railway train or a conveyance of any description is liable
to alter the steady going of a chronometer. The quick jerk of a boat
propelled by oars is still more likely to prove injurious. If,
therefore, a chronometer has to be taken from one place to another in a
pulling boat, it should be held free in the hand by the leather straps,
taking care to avoid a circular motion. When traveling by train place
the instrument on a pile of overcoats or rugs, in such a position that
it will not fall. Marine chronometers are intended always to be kept
strictly horizontal with the face up. Never allow a chronometer to run
longer than four years without having it overhauled by a first-class
workman. If it is a new instrument, it should be looked at after a year
or eighteen months.
[Illustration:
“AMERICA,” 1899.
]
V.
DUTY AND DISCIPLINE AFLOAT.
THE SHIP’S COMPANY IN DETAIL FROM THE SKIPPER TO THE SEA-COOK.
To cruise with pleasure from port to port and to win races—the yacht
owner must remember that he can do neither unless his sailing-master
thoroughly understands his business. Whether amateur or professional,
the skipper must be a man of dash and daring tempered with a modest
_soupçon_ of discretion, active, vigilant, with his weather eye wide
open at all times and seasons. He must have the knack of handling men so
as to get every foot-pound of energy out of them that is in them. He
should be a strict, but not necessarily a stern, disciplinarian; and he
should have sufficient diplomatic instinct in his make-up to know when
to wink at a slight lapse on the part of a generally capable and
faithful blue-jacket.
The personnel of the racing yacht is of the greatest importance, and, if
not of the best, the career of the vessel is not likely to be crowned
with the laurels of success. The man in command must have the rare gift
of personal magnetism, the art of inspiring enthusiasm, of compelling
victory. A cool head is no less necessary than are nerves of steel. He
must be a splendid helmsman, a good practical seaman and skillful
navigator.
A man possessed of all these attributes commands high wages and deserves
all he can get. The discipline of his yacht is perfect. Everything goes
with the precision of clockwork, at sea or in port. He is prepared for
every emergency that may arise when at anchor or under way, and is never
caught napping. Keeping a watchful eye on the interests of his owner, he
is also careful of his crew, being fully aware of the evil consequences
of a discontented forecastle, and knowing that sulky or surly sailors
never yet were conducive to the capturing of sea trophies. A good
skipper must therefore be a good judge of human nature, alive to the
idiosyncrasies and frailties of sailors, who have in good sooth as many
whims and vagaries as silly schoolgirls in the transition stage of
development. In fact he should be quite a past master in the cunning art
of “jollying along.” It is astonishing what a number of men there are
who possess all these qualifications. Modest, unassuming men, skillful
navigators and seamen they will prove to be, and you can avail yourself
of their services for a moderate compensation.
There is no fixed scale of wages for a yacht skipper. The sailing-master
of a large steam yacht may be paid $3,000 a year, while the skipper of a
racing 51-footer might think himself lucky if he gets $80 a month with
the prospect of being paid off when the yacht goes out of commission.
This practice of engaging a skipper for the season seems to me to be
short-sighted policy. It cannot be expected that a captain hired for
three months only will take more than a passing interest in the vessel.
He would be more than human if he lay awake nights, scheming how to save
his owner money. Whereas, an honest, conscientious skipper, assured of
receiving living wages all the year round, will more than earn his
salary by the extra care he takes of the yacht. He naturally looks upon
the vessel as a prime source of revenue. He realizes that it is to his
interest to run her as economically as possible, to keep her in thorough
repair and order at the least possible cost, to make life aboard her as
pleasant as possible to his owner and his guests, to win as many prizes
as he can if the boat is a racer, or if simply a cruiser to get her
talked about for a phenomenally fast passage from one port to another,
for beating a rival of approximate size by a handsome margin, or for
successfully reaching her destination in a heavy blow, when other boats
were glad to scud under bare poles for a harbor. These little acts if
performed with tact, make an owner prouder than ever of his yacht and
more appreciative of the services of his skipper.
Permit me to illustrate. A friend of mine several winters ago purposed
to buy a schooner and fit her out for a West Indian cruise. He provided
himself with a number of tickets of admission to several vessels laid up
in a dock at South Brooklyn. He invited me to accompany him on a
prospecting tour. It was a dirty day, sleet, snow and wind being the
objectionable features that confronted us.
Our first port of call was the office of the dock, where we found a man
in charge who examined our credentials and sent to a neighboring tavern
for the “ship-keeper,” who he said had “gone to lunch.” In about half an
hour this functionary made his appearance, and piloted us to the pier
where several schooners which we desired to look at were moored. We
boarded the first on our list, a cruising vessel of some celebrity,
whose owner desired to sell her, as he was building a steamer. The decks
were deep with water, the scuppers being obstructed. Everywhere were
signs of disgraceful neglect. The binnacle was a mass of verdigris.
Costly and artistic wood carving was without protection from the
weather. The handsome companionway of mahogany was without a canvas
cover. Going below we found everything mildewed and musty. The bedding
in the berths was damp. Water trickled from the deck beams. What really
had been a most attractive interior presented an appearance of dampness
most dispiriting, as well as every evidence of decay. It was indeed
pitiable to see such a fine vessel in so sad a plight. We passed on, and
inspected two other craft whose condition was only slightly better, and
which presented few attractions from a purchaser’s point of view.
The next yacht we visited was in marked contrast to the others. A
handsome, sunburned man greeted us at the gangway, and after we had
explained our mission, invited us below. He was the captain of the
schooner, he told us, and was spending the winter aboard of her.
Stepping down into the cabin we saw a snug and cozy saloon, a cheerful
fire burning in the open grate, everything bright and spick and span, as
though the yacht was in Newport at the height of the season. A pretty
young woman was at work at a sewing machine, while a pampered Persian
cat basked luxuriously on a handsome rug in front of the fire.
“This is my wife, gentlemen,” he said, and then he showed us all over
the vessel from right forward to right aft. The staterooms were in
perfect order, not a sign of damp or mildew anywhere. Everything was
clean and spotless as a new pin. We found that the skipper had been in
charge of the yacht from the day of her launch, that he and the steward
and a boy lived on her every winter and kept her in thorough order
outside and inside.
We were shown the logs of several deep-water cruises she had made,
together with track charts of the voyages. We were entertained with an
intelligent and interesting description of the yacht’s behavior in a
hurricane off Bermuda, given with a wealth of seamanlike detail, which
we both hugely enjoyed. It was evident that the skipper was a firm
believer in his boat, and that he had tended her with care and loving
kindness from her christening to that day. He explained that his owner
had married a woman who hated the sea, and that the vessel was in the
market at a reasonable price.
That schooner now flies my friend’s private signal, and that same
skipper is still her sailing-master, and, according to his employer, is
worth his weight in gold. This practical illustration may demonstrate
the advantage of employing a sailing-master by the year and not by the
season.
Every word I have written about a skipper applies, in the case of a
steam yacht, to the engineer. And if possible, still more strongly, for
the deterioration of marine engines left without care or protection is
both rapid and, I need hardly add, costly in the extreme.
I strongly advise a yacht owner who thinks he has the skill and
knowledge requisite for the command of a yacht, to assume command
himself and dispense with the services of a professional sailing-master.
Let him ship a competent man as mate and give him to understand that his
duty is to carry out the owner’s orders, and simply to act as executive
officer. It is impossible that a yacht can have two captains and turn
out a cup winner. Jacob found two wives in the same house quite
incompatible; and the discipline of a racing craft with the owner and
the sailing-master both issuing commands at the same time is not
unlikely to be lax, and with lax discipline races cannot be won.
The treatment of the sailing-master by the yacht owner varies according
to the temperament and disposition of the latter. A gentleman is
incapable of rudeness to an employé—especially to a man holding so
responsible a position, and in charge of such a valuable piece of
personal property as a yacht. The judicious owner always treats his
skipper with respect. If he desires to preserve proper discipline
aboard, he will let the crew see that the captain has his entire
confidence. The owner, therefore, should always give his orders to the
skipper, who will then communicate them to the crew. For instance, if he
wants a boat lowered he should not sing out to the crew to lay aft and
lower the launch. That would be a grave breach of yachting etiquette.
The correct course to pursue is to tell the captain that he wants the
boat, and leave to him the issuance of the necessary commands for the
carrying out of his wish. This may seem a small matter, but it is really
of importance. If neglected, it is subversive of discipline. The owner
should always address the master as Mr. ——, never as “Skipper” or “Cap,”
as is too often the case aboard a certain class of craft conducted after
slipshod methods. The men should always address the sailing-master, and
also the mate, as “Sir,” and no departure from this rule should be
tolerated. The sailing-master should be held responsible for any breach
of discipline on the part of the crew, and his authority should always
be sustained by the owner.
I have seen more than one sailing-master who, not content with
tyrannizing over the crew, held the owner in complete subjection. It may
be readily surmised what kind of worms these owners were. But take yacht
skippers by and large, the average is worthy of confidence and respect.
The percentage of black sheep among them is almost infinitesimal. The
same remark applies to the mates and the men.
The following hints to sailing-masters were written by a dyspeptic
martinet of a yacht owner, but there is much good sense in them. They
are hung up in his sailing-master’s berth:
1.— Never curse the crew. The owner will do all the swearing.
2.— Should the owner or any of his guests not use tobacco, never smoke
to windward of him or them. Have the goodness to step to
leeward.
3.— Always be at the gangway when the owner comes alongside. No matter
how warm it may be, do not receive him in your shirt-sleeves.
4.— Have a memorandum of all the stores in your department. Do not
rashly answer, “There is none on board,” without consulting your
list when asked for an article required.
5.— There are yachts afloat whose owners are run by the
sailing-masters. This yacht is governed differently.
6.— If the sailing-master is at any time dissatisfied with the owner
or the yacht he has an unfailing remedy, and the sooner he
avails himself of it the better.
7.— The owner trusts that pleasant relations will always prevail
between the sailing-master and himself.
Having secured your skipper let him ship the crew. If your yacht is a
large vessel you will need a mate. In the interest of harmony it is
advisable to let the skipper have some say in the matter of his
selection. It will be advisable to look over his credentials, with a
view to finding out if he is competent to take charge of the vessel in
the event of any accident befalling the captain. If you contemplate a
blue-water voyage, be careful that the mate is a navigator and has the
requisite license. If deprived of the services of your skipper by any
unforeseen cause, it would be awkward to find yourself, say, a thousand
miles from land, with nobody aboard capable of finding the vessel’s
position otherwise than by dead reckoning—a hit or miss method always
unreliable.
The wages of mates vary. Some of them are paid $10 or $15 a month more
than the men, whose pay ranges between $25 and $30 a month. This is much
more than is paid to English yacht sailors, who have to feed themselves
out of their pay.
The mate’s duty is to take charge of the yacht when the master is below.
When the master is on deck the mate’s station is forward. He
superintends the setting, taking in and trimming of sails, and in a
general way carries out the skipper’s orders. He is a very important man
in a race, for then the captain’s place is at the helm and the mate is
responsible for the proper working of the vessel and the prompt setting
of balloon sails. If any of the running gear gets foul or parts he is
tolerably certain of a brisk dressing-down, especially if the mishap
causes the loss of the race. The reason of this is because he has charge
of all the gear and sails and spars, and is responsible for their being
always in good condition.
The mate superintends the work of getting under way, sees the head-sails
clear for hoisting, looks after the windlass, sees that the hose is
played on the chain cable if the vessel has brought up on muddy bottom.
Also when coming to anchor he sees that the mud-hook is clear for
letting go, all halyards ready for lowering, booms in good shape for
swinging out, and the boats in good condition for lowering. The captain
is in command of the starboard watch, and the mate takes hold of the
port watch. In long runs the watches are set as in ocean steamers, the
men taking two-hour tricks at the helm and the same on the lookout.
The mate, as executive officer, superintends the washing down of the
decks in the morning, and is held responsible for the yacht’s ship-shape
appearance. If any “Irish pennants” are seen towing overboard or if
there is a speck of dirt anywhere to be found, the mate is brought up
with a round turn. A good mate is invaluable, and if he and the
sailing-master work in harmony together, the yacht, so far as discipline
is concerned, will be perfect, and the vessel will be a pleasant one for
all hands. The mate in large steam yachts has generally the charge of
the launch, bringing aboard guests and taking them ashore. It is
imperative that he should have a thorough knowledge of the art of
boat-handling and that he should be a smart, all-round man in every
detail.
Only very large craft carry a boatswain. His duty is to care for the
rigging and “pipe the side.” Personally, I like to hear the cheery sound
of his whistle. It reminds me of old times. The boatswain nowadays finds
no occupation for his “call” on a racing craft.
Great Britain and the United States are the leading yachting nations of
the world. The yachting flags of both countries have been seen in nearly
every harbor of the globe. France, Italy and Germany have during the
last decade made some noticeable progress in the pastime, but neither in
racing nor in cruising have they accomplished anything of real
significance.
For instance, how galling must it have been to the patriotic pride of
the German Emperor to be forced to sail his imperial racing cutter,
_Meteor_, designed by a Scotchman and built on the Clyde, with a crew of
Hampshire and Essex sailors. But stern necessity compelled him. The
German seaman has many merits, but he doesn’t show up to advantage
aboard a racing cutter. One would have thought that the Emperor would
have trained a crew of Germans especially for the task, but the idea
either did not occur to him or was judged not to be feasible.
He might have followed the example of our countryman, Mr. C. Oliver
Iselin, the managing owner of the _Defender_, who in 1895 turned the
tables on certain of his British critics, who had declared that no
American crew could possibly beat the trained British yacht sailors who
formed the crew of the _Valkyrie_. These seamen, all hailed from
Wivenhoe or Brightlingsea in Essex, had sailed in cutter yachts in the
summer and cutter-rigged fishing smacks in the winter from boyhood, and
were indeed the flower of the racing sailors of England. Captain
Cranfield, one of the smartest skippers afloat, had drilled them for
several seasons. They were pronounced invincible by recognized
authorities.
In previous contests for the _America’s_ cup the crews of the _Puritan_,
_Mayflower_, _Volunteer_ and _Vigilant_ were composed largely of
Scandinavians, concerning whose ability as seamen I have nothing to say
except in praise. It was the general idea that without the Scandinavian
element the battle was lost. Mr. Iselin undertook to expose the fallacy
of this notion. Without disparagement of the excellent yacht sailors
hailing from Danish, Swedish or Norwegian ports, he determined to prove
practically that the native-born American sailor, when properly licked
into shape, makes as fine a yachtsman as ever trod a deck or broke a
biscuit.
Accordingly Captain Haff was sent to Maine, and there the veteran
skipper shipped an American crew worthy of the saucy Stripes and
Stars—active young fellows who had never sailed on pleasure craft but
had followed the sea on fishing schooners and coasting vessels. After
being drilled by Captain Haff for a few weeks they became as smart and
efficient a crew as ever tailed on to a mainsheet or manned club-topsail
halyards.
I had many opportunities of comparing them with their British opponents,
and I pledge you my word as a sailor and a gentleman that one crew was
as smart as the other in setting or shortening sail and in all marine
manœuvres. It was a surprise to many, but nobody was more astonished
than Captain Cranfield, who admiringly admitted the ability and
efficiency of the boys from Maine who manned the _Defender_.
This achievement opened the eyes of the British critics and showed them
of what our raw material is capable. It was also a surprise to many of
our racing skippers, who were laboring under the delusion that
Scandinavian sailors alone are capable of manning our yachts. Never was
a greater error. The native-born American, when properly trained, makes
as smart a yacht sailor as ever walked a deck.
Most of these Maine sailors, judging from their names, belonged to the
great Anglo Saxon race whose deeds afloat are written on the bright
pages of sea history. America has reason to be proud of her seafaring
ancestors. The infallible law of heredity and the no less assured
principle of the survival of the fittest have been well exemplified
among the dwellers on the British coasts. The bold sea-dogs of the West
Country to-day are fitting successors to those sturdy semi-pirates who
under the flag of Frobisher, of Drake, of Raleigh and of Hawkins shed so
much glory on the nation they upheld and so much of the enemy’s
life-blood. The smugglers and privateers of the southern and eastern
coasts may justly be classed as the progenitors of our racing yachtsmen.
For be it remembered that speed was the prime necessity of their means
of livelihood. The contests between revenue cutters and luggers were
continuous struggles for sea supremacy. If a lugger was captured by a
cutter, the keel of what was hoped to be a still faster lugger was laid,
and so the war went on. British privateers generally got the best of
their Gallic opponents. Nelson crushed Great Britain’s foes at sea as
effectually as Wellington defeated her enemies ashore.
In the war of 1812 America proved her naval superiority by many a heroic
deed. Until the devastating cruise of the _Alabama_ our mercantile
marine was our national pride. It is true that our mercantile fleet of
to-day is by no means what it ought to be, but it is also a fact that
our fine coasters and fishing vessels, although manned by a large
percentage of foreigners, are, as a rule, commanded by native-born
Americans. Those of our countrymen who follow the sea for a livelihood
soon rise in their profession. The somewhat scanty emoluments offered
are sufficient reasons for deterring the average ambitious American
youth from seeking his fortune afloat, but should more liberal
inducement ever be offered, the sea-loving Yankee will be to the fore
again.
That the raw material is at hand was proven by the adaptability of the
Maine men to be transformed into efficient yachtsmen in so short a time.
Had the Emperor of Germany tried to convert some of his seafaring
subjects into a crew for the _Meteor_, he might have met with a far
different result.
Sailors are a queer lot, and good ones are to be found in every maritime
country. In their native climes a crew of lascars, hard as nails and
agile as monkeys, cannot be surpassed. Ship them aboard a vessel bound
to the English Channel and due there in midwinter, and you might just as
well have a ship’s company of frozen earwigs. In the Bay of Bengal, blow
high or blow low, you couldn’t wish for smarter sailors. I speak from
personal knowledge, having had command of a smart schooner engaged in a
certain lucrative trade on the Coromandel coast and in the China seas,
the precise nature of which I decline to divulge, but which called for
quick work. Never have I sailed with a more satisfactory crew than
Abdool, the Serang, and his twenty alert followers. They made that
schooner talk. In the Bay of Biscay they would have been as useless as a
dead steam-engine. They were the most economical sailors I ever
knew—five rupees a month and a modest ration consisting principally of
curry and rice. I wonder in what seas my faithful Abdool and his lithe
and dusky shipmates are cruising to-day, for I am writing of thirty
years ago, when I was a little spryer on my pins than I am at present.
The selection of a crew, especially for a deep-water cruise likely to be
of long duration, is an important piece of business. The skilled
skipper, from long experience, possesses the instinctive faculty of
picking out the right men from a small army of applicants. This, too,
without any unnecessary delay. A short talk, a glance at papers, and the
trick is done. A sea lawyer has no chance of being shipped. The skipper
detects him at once. He knows that breed. The inexperienced yacht owner
cannot appreciate what troubles he is saved from by the wise selection
of his ship’s company. One sea lawyer with the pestilent gift of the gab
will infect a whole forecastle full of honest and well-meaning men, just
as one sheep with the rot will taint a sound and healthy flock. The
incessant wagging of his jaw, his perpetual growlings like a bear with a
sore head, are as likely as not to breed a mutiny, or, at any rate, to
make a floating hell of that part of the vessel that is forward of the
foremast. Such a man will grumble even if he gets roast beef and plum
duff three times a day and a “nobbler” of rum every hour of the
twenty-four.
It is well, therefore, to exercise due care in shipping your crew if
bound on a globe-circling expedition. Some owners insist that candidates
for berths aboard their ships shall undergo a medical examination, in
order to make sure that they are physically fit for a long voyage. This
is, in my opinion, a wise course to pursue, for sickness at sea is like
a wet blanket on the pleasure of a voyage, and no owner wants to ship a
sailor unfit to fulfil the duties for which he signs articles.
A crew intended for the usual coastwise cruising and racing, taking part
in all the events of the season for which the yacht is eligible, should,
of course, be selected with care. You will often see the same crew stick
to a yacht for years. They are paid off at the close of the season, get
through the winter as best they can, some of them subsisting on their
summer savings, others shipping on coasting vessels or fishing craft, or
even finding odd jobs to do ashore. When the yacht goes into commission
at the beginning of the following summer, there they are to be found
aboard of her, and ready for anything that may turn up. Smart and steady
men are always in demand, and when they leave the yacht in the fall they
get the tip from the sailing-master to report for duty in the spring.
The prudent yacht owner, when preparing for a deep-water voyage, should
ship a crew as small as possible for the proper working of the vessel.
Every device for the economizing of labor should be adopted. In these
days, when a crew of six, all told, sail a big fore-and-aft cargo
schooner, a large ship’s company is not absolutely necessary aboard a
yacht of moderate size. It is easier to keep a small crew in good health
than a large one, especially when cruising in the tropics. The
necessarily limited space at the disposal of the “jackies,” in spite of
all the modern contrivances for their convenience and comfort, causes
some forecastles to be unhealthy. Without taking into consideration the
saving of money in the wages of men not absolutely necessary for the
handling of the yacht, the owner is likely to get more solid comfort out
of a small, contented crew of picked men than he would out of a large,
injudiciously selected crowd of sailors. The fewer the mouths to feed
the more stores and water for each can be carried. Personally, I would
rather have twelve good men to work a large schooner, than a score of
indifferent lubbers and skulkers masquerading under the names of able or
ordinary seamen.
These may seem to be revolutionary notions in these days of kid-gloved
skippers and large crews. But let us go back half a century or so, and
see what the custom was in the brave old days of the Yankee schooner
_America_. In her historical voyage to England in 1851 she was commanded
by Captain “Dick” Brown, with Nelson Comstock as mate, and only six men
before the mast. Messrs. George Steers, James Steers and young Henry
Steers were the passengers, and these, of course, lent a hand when
required. But there were no more cats aboard than could catch mice.
The _Sappho_, a much larger schooner, sailed from New York to Falmouth
in July, 1868, the time of her passage being fourteen days. She was in
charge of Captain T. P. Baldwin, a retired merchant skipper, two mates,
and six men before the mast, none of whom were yacht sailors. Judging
from the logs of these two representative schooners, no difficulty was
experienced in handling them, and both made excellent passages, the
_America_ reaching Havre in seventeen days and a half, in spite of the
retarding circumstance that she carried only the small sails of the
pilot boat _Mary Taylor_, a wonderfully fast schooner built by Mr.
George Steers.
Mr. E. F. Knight, the English yachtsman, has some very sensible things
to say on this subject, and, as he speaks from wide experience, my
readers will be interested in his remarks. He says:
“It is my opinion that there should not be a single yacht sailor on
board the foreign-cruising 50-tonner. It is difficult to get the right
ones, and it will be bad for the owner if he fall in with the wrong
ones—men who have been spoilt by foolish employers, for instance; a
numerous class, I fear. We all know them. Smart-looking fellows enough,
maybe, but shirkers of honest work. They prefer to ship on show yachts
belonging to owners who like to exhibit themselves and their vessels in
the fashionable yachting ports each season, but who are not sailors in
any sense of the word, and have no real love of the sport, following it
only for the swagger of the thing. Men who have served such owners would
prove a great nuisance on an ocean cruise, and would not be likely to go
far. I have heard such hands grumbling on a friend’s yacht because they
had to pass one night at sea instead of in some port where they happened
to have friends. They look to frequent tips from the ‘governor’s’
visitors, and to other less legitimate perquisites. These they cannot
get in mid-Atlantic, so it is not the place for them.
“Hands from fishing-boats, sailing barges and small coasters, are the
best men for the foreign cruiser of small tonnage. Among these, one is
not likely to come across spoilt and pampered mariners, and they are
accustomed to roughing it, and to the shifts of short-handed craft. But
were I undertaking a lengthened tropical voyage I think I should ship my
English crew simply for the run over to my first West Indian or South
American port, and there engage a negro crew. These blacks are excellent
fore-and-aft sailors, easy to manage, and always happy and ready for any
amount of hard work, if kindly but firmly treated; while they are, of
course, far better fitted than white men to withstand the debilitating
influence of sultry climates, an influence, which, as everyone knows,
has caused the ruin of many a good British sailor, driving hitherto
sober men to injure their health by excess whenever they get shore
leave.”
Sir Edward Sullivan, Bart., who saw the _America_ win the cup that bears
her name, over the Cowes course in 1851, and has been a devotee of the
sport ever since, says: “Yacht sailors, as a rule, are sober, honest,
obliging, goodtempered, original. During the many years I have yachted I
have had crews from north, east, west, and south, and I have almost
without exception found them the same. A man must be hard to please,
indeed, if after a three or four months’ cruise, he does not part from
his crew with regret, and with a genuine wish that they may meet again.
Amongst yachting skippers I have come across some of the most honorable,
trustworthy, honest men I have met in any class of life, men who knew
their duty and were always willing and anxious to do it. The chief
peculiarity of all the seafaring class that I have been brought into
contact with, is their entire freedom from vulgarity. They are obliging
to the utmost of their power, but never cringing or vulgar.
“The winter half of their lives is spent in fishing-boats or coasters,
or sea voyages, where they have to face dangers and hardships that must
be experienced to be realized. As a rule they are religious, and their
preparations for the Sabbath, their washings and soapings and brushings,
show with what pleasure they welcome its recurrence. Yacht minstrelsy,
with its accordion, its songs of twenty verses, its never-ending
choruses, its pathos, is a thing of itself. Some day, perhaps, some
Albert Chevalier will make it fashionable. Such as they are, I know of
no class of Englishmen superior, if any be equal, to the sailors who man
our yachts. Of course, there are sharks, or at any rate dogfish, in all
waters, but where the good so immensely outnumber the bad, that man must
be a fool indeed who gets into wrong hands.”
With these sentiments I most cordially concur.
The yacht owner will engage his cook and his steward to suit himself.
Some seagoing _chefs_ of steam yachts get bigger pay than a commodore in
the navy, while many stewards have grown wealthy out of their
perquisites. With these men I have nothing to do. They belong to the
owner exclusively, so let him deal with them as he may see fit. The
ship’s cook, however, is a most important functionary, and every canny
skipper tries to ship a thorough “tip-topper,” who will feed the boys
“high,” while at the same time taking care of the owner’s interests by
guarding against waste. A cook of genius will on a pinch “create” a
savory dinner for all hands out of what may appear a most unpromising
batch of materials, and I am glad to say that cooks of genius are by no
means scarce. The Japs make excellent cooks, and so do the Portuguese.
Hungry sailors go in for hearty fare. Beef and beans, pork and peas,
clam chowder, roast joints, and plenty of fresh vegetables are their
principal dishes, but they by no means despise the ice cream and the
cabin delicacies which fall to their lot on cruises when there is a
heavy sea, and landsmen feel more like throwing up their commissions
than taking in ballast.
“The internal economy of a yacht,” says Sir Edward Sullivan,
“constitutes one of its greatest charms. Your cook with only a little
stove for which a shore cook would scarcely find any use will send you
up an excellent dinner cooked to perfection for any number of guests.
And the steward! who can describe the work of a yacht’s steward? I doubt
whether Briareus with his hundred hands could do more than a steward
does with two. At seven in the morning he is ashore for the milk, and
the breakfast, and the letters, and the flowers; he valets half-a-dozen
people, prepares half-a-dozen baths, brushes heaven knows how many
clothes, gets the breakfast, makes the beds, cleans the plate, tidies
the cabin, provides luncheon, five o’clock tea, dinner, is always
cheerful, obliging, painstaking, and more than repaid if occasionally he
gets a _petit mot_ of compliment or congratulation. When he ever sleeps
or eats I never can tell; and far from grumbling at his work he often
resents the assistance of any shore-going servant.”
I have quoted the above at length because it is in my judgment the best
description of a _good_ cook and a _good_ steward ever written. What
yachtsman cannot testify to the truth of every word? I have sailed with
a _bad_ cook and an utterly worthless and incompetent steward, and my
imperfect knowledge of the English language does not permit of my
adequately describing the inevitable horrors and discomforts attending
the martyrdom of my shipmates and myself. Therefore let us draw the
curtain down on the unsavory subject. But nevertheless let us resolve in
the interest of our brother yachtsmen never to give a misleading
recommendation or certificate of character to either a bad cook or a
worthless steward. If the first-named is a “grub-spoiler” masquerading
under the guise of a _chef_, and the other is a sham and a fraud,
hesitate not to brand them correctly and thus prevent them from imposing
on others. Have backbone!
In England there is a regular schedule of racing wages—a system which
has not been adopted as yet in this country. The skipper gets five per
cent. or ten per cent. of the value of the prize won, while every member
of the crew is given $5 if you win and $2.50 if you lose. In addition to
this expense, bounteous supplies of beef, soft tack and beer are
generously dispensed on race days, while on other occasions the crew
supply their own rations.
The life of a yacht sailor is by no means hard. From twenty to thirty
dollars a month and good grub should be attractive to the foreigners
who, for the most part, man our pleasure fleet, and who would earn
considerably less than half that sum in the vessels of their native
mercantile navy. There are so many smart and deserving men in the
market, that a yacht owner has no difficulty whatever in engaging a
satisfactory ship’s company.
[Illustration: [Yacht fender]]
VI.
A DOWN-TO-DATE YACHT RACE,
IN WHICH MAY BE FOUND SOME NOTEWORTHY EXAMPLES OF THE SEA-JOCKEY’S ART.
Sailing as a visitor on a racing yacht is delightfully exciting. Let me
transcribe from my log-book the yarn of the contest between the _Ghost_
and the _Phantom_, two modern 51-footers. Stowed away between the lines
may be found a wrinkle or two of value to the novice. So here goes:
The bell on the _Phantom_ was striking eight as the gig rounded her
graceful stern and brought up at the starboard gangway. The cutter had
been completely “skinned” for the fray, as she was to compete for a
valuable prize offered by the club. Everything had been taken ashore
that the racing rules permitted, including books, cabin fittings, the
cooking stove, deck scrubbers, buckets and brooms, mops, and other
impedimenta comprised in the equipment of a properly fitted yacht. The
cabin was bare—“cleared for action,” as the owner observed.
[Illustration:
“Phantom.”
]
“All you will get to eat to-day won’t trouble your digestive organs,” he
continued. “The steward has made a box of corned beef sandwiches, and
that will be our plain and simple fare, with a toothful of grog to wash
the grub down, and a pipe to settle everything. Today all hands fare
alike, forward and aft, for we shall have no time to waste in devouring
luxurious kickshaws. We must win that cup.”
From the critical view of an expert yachtsman, everything was in
ship-shape fashion for the race. There wasn’t an ounce of superfluous
weight aboard. The very crew seemed to be characteristic of the vital
elements of the vessel, namely, strength and lightness. Their muscular
agility was displayed to advantage a few moments later, when, manning
the throat and peak halyards, they spread the superb mainsail to woo the
wind, which, at this time, wasn’t particularly strong. I noticed that
the skipper did not “sweat up” the halyards too taut, but prudently
reserved that process for a few minutes before weighing anchor, allowing
the soft, warm breeze to expend its influence on the sail and stretch it
evenly and gently before the final pull was given.
The skipper sent the mate aloft to pass a preventer lashing round the
gaff and masthead, so as to be prepared for the unfortunate contingency
of the parting of the throat halyards. This is a precaution seldom
taken, but Captain Marlin’s custom is to take no risks, and to be ready
for every possible mishap. Judging from the appearance of the sky at
that time, it did not seem probable that the halyards were to be
subjected to any heavy strain; but the weather cannot be relied upon,
and the carrying away of the throat halyards has lost many a race which
a preventer might have saved.
The club-topsail was handled next, in seamanlike style. It is a
difficult sail to set properly at any time, and, when spread or dowsed
in a fine sailing breeze, has made many a lubber use strong language.
This particular piece of duck was mast-headed cleverly and silently, as
is always the case in a yacht commanded by an able skipper and manned by
a competent crew.
Speculations are indulged in as to the outlook. Yachts about to compete
in other classes are criticised, and many sage observations, made by the
sailors concerning wind and weather, find their way aft to the
quarter-deck, where the owner and his amateur tars are smoking their
pipes and discussing and prognosticating the coming events of the day.
The parting drag is given to the halyards, the head-sails are made
ready, and the anchor is hove short.
It is half an hour before the time announced for the start, and we know
that the Chairman of the Race Committee is no trifler and that the
preparatory gun will be fired sharp at the hour appointed. The outlook
is promising. A fine sou’wester blows, ruffling the blue waters of the
bay and making the small craft dance to the merry music of wind and
wave. There is a goodly fleet at anchor and a large throng of visitors
is seen on the veranda of the club-house, on the green lawn that almost
kisses the water’s edge, and on the float, which is nearly surrounded by
steam and naphtha launches, gigs, dinghies and other tenders. From a
look aloft at the fleecy clouds and straggling mares’ tails that sail
along in the cerulean sky, the breeze shows every sign of freshening as
the day grows older; and the inevitable weather prophets, one or two of
whom can be found in every yacht’s crew, talk sagely of single reefs and
coming squalls.
Our yacht is a down-to-date 51-footer, fitted with all modern appliances
for the winning of cups, including a fin-keel that would scrape the
bottom at a depth of more than ten feet, and frightens many a flounder
from his feeding grounds. Witch-like she looks, as she tugs at her
anchor eager to be off. Everything alow and aloft is taut and trim. Her
standing rigging is set up as tight as bars of steel. Not a wrinkle
shows in her well-cut mainsail, set just as it ought to be, with no
abnormal strains visible in throat, peak or after leech, and not a
symptom of bagginess in the whole symmetry of the sail. Above this the
huge club-topsail is spread, stretching ambitiously skyward, and this,
too, is a choice example of the sailmaker’s skill. The head-sails are
ready for hoisting. The big jibtopsail is set in stops ready for
breaking out as we cross the line, for the first leg of the triangular
course is a reach with the wind abeam, and we shall have to carry on
sail like a China clipper to get to the first mark before our
antagonist, the _Ghost_, whose best sailing point is reaching or
running.
Our boat, the _Phantom_, though built from the same design as the
_Ghost_ and carrying the same amount of sail, is the better at beating
to windward. Once get her sheets trimmed in close-hauled to a breeze,
and she will look up as high as any yacht afloat, and, what is more, you
can rely on the saucy jade to fetch and weather any mark she points for.
The _Ghost_, though phenomenally fast with the wind free, is not quite
so good at windward work as we are, judging from her behavior in four
former races, when we have given her a good dusting with the breeze dead
in her teeth. But once get the _Ghost_ a-going with the wind anywhere
from abeam to right aft, and the way she slides through the sea is
exasperating to her opponents on the _Phantom_, who have often had to
contemplate with annoyed admiration the shapely contour of the beauty’s
counter.
Who can satisfactorily account for the difference in the speed of the
two boats? They are like shoes made from the same last, of the same
material and finish. Why is it that one boat beats to windward better
than the other, and that the other reaches and runs faster than her
rival? Nobody has yet offered a satisfactory explanation of this
peculiar state of affairs, which yachtsmen know to exist in all classes
of one design.
But here we are, aboard the _Phantom_ thirty minutes before gunfire. Our
sportsmanlike owner and our seamanlike skipper are well qualified for
the coming strife. They know the course like their A, B, C. They are
acquainted with every tide-rip and current likely to be encountered. The
sailing directions are explicit. The crew, amateur and professional, are
old hands at the business, and if the _Phantom_ doesn’t win the cup and
the side bet from the _Ghost_, why, all hands will be down in the dumps
at the end of the race.
But there is no mention of that dastard word, defeat. Owner and captain
and crew have an abiding confidence in the yacht and in each other, and
all hands are imbued with enthusiasm and zeal. This is apparent in every
animated glance, in each cheery “Aye, aye, sir,” in response to orders,
and in every active movement of body and limb.
All hands have been through the mill before and are accustomed to pull
together. The skipper knows the “hang” of the boat; he fully understands
how to trim sail to the best advantage—just how much sheet to give to
induce the highest rate of speed. The boat herself is balanced like a
druggist’s scales, and is responsive as a sentient being to the
slightest touch of the helm. The gear is of the best.
[Illustration:
“GHOST.”
]
“Now, Captain Marlin,” says the owner, “we’ll get up the anchor and take
a short trial spin across the bay, just to limber things before
starting.”
“Break the anchor out, boys,” says the skipper, “and stand by to hoist
the head-sails.”
In a few minutes the anchor is on deck and the foresail and jib are
hoisted to the fast-increasing breeze. Away we go on the starboard tack,
heeling over till the water boils up in the lee scuppers and an
occasional spray comes inboard on the weather bow.
As we pass through the fleet at anchor many admiring eyes examine us
critically from quarter-deck and bridge; and many binoculars are leveled
in our direction as we swiftly glide toward the open bay, where we shall
feel the true force of the breeze and see whether the club-topsail will
be too much for her with sheets flattened in.
Captain Marlin is at the helm, with the owner beside him. Both view the
sails with expert glances, quick to discover imperfections in fit or
trim. The mainsail retains its shape admirably, because it has been
beautifully stretched by a sailor and not “monkeyed with” by a
countryman from an inland village. The jib is pulling magnificently, and
the foresail is attending strictly to business.
As soon as we reach the bay, away from the shelter of the protecting
headland, we get the full strength of the wind, which, indeed, pipes
high. A squall strikes us, and we careen under its influence till the
lee rail—a mere batten—is almost awash. The skipper luffs a little until
the fore leech of the mainsail quivers, but this seems to deaden the
_Phantom’s_ way very little. She is off, with a gleaming white bone in
her teeth and showing a great burst of speed.
[Illustration:
A STERN CHASE.
]
“Ready about!”
“Helm’s a-lee.”
The boat swings into the wind like a top, and before you can say Jack
Robinson she is filled and away on the other tack. But only a yachtsman
can appreciate the smart handling of the craft. The setting up of the
topmast-backstay while the vessel is in stays is work for men who are
actually alive and haven’t a lazy bone in their bodies. The same remark
applies to trimming the head-sheets. Of course there are “belaying
marks” showing where they are to be made fast, but smartness must
prevail first, last, and all the time in these days of rapid-spinning
boats.
And so back we fly through the squadron, most of them now under way. We
luff up in the wind’s eye for a minute or so and get another pull on the
jib halyards, sweating them up quite hard. We see the jibtopsail clear
for breaking out from the stops; and while we dodge about with
head-sheets hauled to windward, waiting for the preparatory gun, we see
the _Ghost_ making for us and realize that if we are to secure the
advantage of the windward berth and first away we must keep our weather
eyes skinned.
And mighty pretty our sleek-looking rival appears, with the sun shining
on her creamy sails just new from the loft, but bearing the impress of
artistic design and splendid fit. The only difference between _Ghost_
and _Phantom_ is that the first-named is painted black, while _Phantom_
is resplendent in a snow-white garb. Captain Spike, the _Ghost’s_
skipper, a bronzed, bearded man of massive build, is steering, and as he
passes under our stern we wave our hands or doff our caps in courteous
salute. For although both ships are manned by sturdy fighters, yet we
heartily respect each other, as gallant and honorable foes are wont to
do in the domain of yachtdom.
“Bang!” goes the preparatory gun, which conveys the information that our
class will start in five minutes. Our owner had timed his watch by the
chronometer on the club boat early that morning, and both timepieces
agree to a fraction of a second. It is to be a flying start, and the two
rival skippers, Spike and Marlin, are equally famous for getting away
with the gun, and both are past masters in the art of sea-jockeying for
a commanding position on the line. It is most interesting to watch the
manœuvres of the two captains. The yachts circle round and round each
other like two kittens at play, while the owners, with watches in hand,
call out the time.
“One minute gone” says our owner. “One minute gone,” repeats the alert
skipper; “hard-a-lee!” About she goes once more. “Two minutes gone,” is
soon heard, followed by another tack. “Three gone!” Then an anxious
pause. “Four gone!” says our owner. We are at this time some
considerable distance from the line, but fast approaching it, although
our foresail-sheet is hauled to windward. To leeward, and a dozen
lengths astern, is the _Ghost_.
“Four minutes fifty seconds,” says our owner.
“Let draw the foresail; break out the jibtopsail,” are the skipper’s
next commands, and for the ten seconds that follow we are all on
tenterhooks. If we cross the imaginary line between the committee’s
steamer and the mark-boat before the signal is given we shall have to go
back and cross the line again. It is indeed an anxious moment.
“Fifty-five seconds, fifty-six, fifty-seven——”
“Will they never fire?” think I.
“Fifty-eight, fifty-nine——”
“The gun!”
“Hurrah, hurrah! you gauged her beautifully,” says the owner to the
skipper, on whose mahoganized mug there grows a gratified grin.
“_Ghost_ is ten seconds after the gun,” observed the owner, “but I guess
she’ll pick that up and more too, on this leg, alone.”
The _Phantom_ is now hissing along with the wind on the port beam, the
main boom well eased off, the jibtopsail doing gigantic work, and the
other sails contributing their share toward impelling the fairy-like
fabric onward to the next goal, six nautical miles away. Not a quiver or
a wrinkle in all the vast expanse of muslin extended to the breeze. The
yacht’s sharp cutwater cleaves the blue sea, making little or no
disturbance, but the fleecy foam travels aft with the speed of a
mill-race and leaves a glittering wake astern. All the crew have come
abaft the mast, and are up to windward as far as they can get. The yacht
heels over in the puffs at times until the lee rail is under, and the
water occasionally threatens to bubble up to the skylights, but never
gets there. It is indeed glorious racing. Nobody has the slightest idea
of shortening canvas. What she can’t carry she must drag.
The skipper keeps his eyes on the sails and on the compass. He never
dreams of looking astern to see how his friend Captain Spike, of the
_Ghost_, is coming along. No yacht-racing skipper ever does look astern
while he is steering. It would be a breach of an old tradition
unpardonable in a professional. Our owner, however, watches our opponent
quite carefully, and confides to me in a whisper that he fears she will
overhaul us and pass us to windward before we reach the mark at the end
of the first leg. “It is in the beat back from the second mark that we
shall have him at our mercy. We are considerably faster to windward in a
blow like this, and if it pipes any harder he will have to take in his
club-topsail, and then he is our meat, sure,” he added.
But there is no sign of shortening canvas on the _Ghost_. Captain Spike
will hang on to the great sail until the topmast goes over the side
rather than be beaten at “cracking on” by Captain Marlin. As a matter of
fact, _Ghost_ stands up to her work very well indeed, heeling over to
the pressure of the puissant breeze only a mere trifle more than
_Phantom_.
Other boats are competing in the regatta—a number of crack schooners and
some of the new-fangled knockabouts—all of which carry single reefs in
their mainsails and small jibs. It is evident, too, that even with this
moderate sail they have as much as they can stagger under. We, however,
have too much to do in the way of paying attention to our own craft and
our immediate opponent to particularly regard the doings of the rest of
the fleet.
One thing that strikes me exceedingly is the splendid way that _Phantom_
steers. One of the old-time racing boats would have been yawing about in
rampant style in a breeze as potent as is now blowing. The helmsman
would have all he could do to keep her on her course, the prevailing
tendency of the ancient type being to gripe to windward most damnably.
Yacht architects have made great progress since then, and the modern
craft are balanced so exquisitely that they show little or no proneness
to gripe, even with the wind abeam or on the quarter. _Phantom_ carries
her rudder nearly amidships, only taking a spoke or two of weather helm.
Captain Marlin steers her with one hand, and keeps as cool as a
cucumber.
Meanwhile _Ghost_ crawls up on us, inch by inch and foot by foot, her
aim being to pass us to windward and to blanket us. This we will never
permit without a hard fight.
We are now half way to the first mark, the wind continuing true and
strong—an ideal breeze for racing. The sea is not steep enough as yet to
do us any harm when we trim in our sheets for the final beat; but before
this shall come to pass we have a leg to sail with the wind dead aft,
and even now the men are making sure that the spinnaker gear is all in
readiness for setting that enormous sail immediately after rounding the
first mark. We are going to do our prettiest to get the better of
_Ghost_ at the turn, and the yacht that gets the spinnaker boom down
first and the sail broken out most quickly has a big advantage.
I can’t help remembering how a mishap to her spinnaker caused _Valkyrie
II._ to lose her last race with _Vigilant_, and I express a silent but
fervent hope that nothing untoward may occur to stop the smart setting
of our own good sail.
But now the sly and swift _Ghost_ is crawling up, pointing her bowsprit
for our weather quarter, with the intent, if possible, of establishing
an overlap and a consequent blanket. This leads to a luffing match which
is mighty interesting while it lasts. The more we luff the faster we
fly, and at last we get so far ahead that we are able to bear away on
our course again and still maintain the lead.
Now, what do you think is the next artful move of the skipper of the
_Ghost_? That fellow is as cunning as a wagonload of monkeys. Seeing
that he cannot pass us to windward, he eases his sheets a little, and,
with a great spurt of speed which fairly took our breath away, walks
through our lee like lubricated lightning and tries to luff up across
our bows and so get the weather gauge.
But it isn’t Captain Merlin’s watch below exactly. That ancient and
tarry one has his eyes wide open and his wits all about him. He also
luffs in time to establish an overlap, and so he balks the blanketing
dodge of Captain Spike, who is thus hoist with his own petard. This
skirmish shows the advantage of getting the lead at the start. Had
_Ghost_ crossed the line first we could never have caught her, but as it
is we are able to prevent her from passing us. And to the undying fame
of our sterling skipper, by the exercise of all the devices known to the
sea-jockey, we actually round the mark first!
As we whirl round the raft from whose flagstaff the club burgee is
noisily flapping, the main boom is eased off handsomely by the owner and
myself, while the rest of the boys busy themselves with the spinnaker.
As the boom is lowered, the sail neatly done up in stops is smartly
hoisted to the topmast head. The after guy is hauled aft, the outhaul is
manned, and with three tugs on the sheet the big sail bellies to the
blast and pulls nobly.
Now a more powerful puff than ever smites the _Phantom_. Its force makes
the spinnaker boom up-end and the spinnaker itself puff out like a
balloon. But both spar and duck are of the best and no misfortune
befalls them. The balloon jibtopsail now takes the place of No. 2, so
that if the wind shifts we shall be ready for it. When this is done all
hands lie aft so as to lift her bow as much as possible, while not
burying her counter, and, standing up so as to catch every breath of
wind that is going to waste, are regaled on beer and sandwiches, which
the steward passes round. He, like the willing and zealous fellow that
he is, has been pulling and hauling with the rest of the crowd, and is
puffing like a porpoise after the unusual exertion.
In planning the day’s campaign it has been settled that we shall steer a
direct course from the first to the second mark. We know that we have no
chance to run before the wind so fast as the _Ghost_, which is now only
twenty seconds astern of us, and is bound to pass us in spite of
everything. Thus, we waste no time in jockeying.
And glide past us she does, silently and slowly like the ghost that she
is, her spinnaker and main booms forming the base of a lofty pyramid of
canvas, arched out to the swelling breeze. The lapping waves break in
milky foam under her counter, the spray sparkling like diamonds in the
golden sunshine. Her crew look proud and exultant at their victory.
But the demon of despair affects us not. We know what our stanch and
noble craft will do when we haul on a wind for the final homeward
thresh. So we light our pipes, and grin and bear our temporary defeat
like the stoics of old. Meanwhile, we recollect that we shall have to
gybe round the next mark and realize that this will be quite a ticklish
job in so stiff a breeze. To luff round a stakeboat is easy as eating,
but to swing over a main boom as long as ours from one quarter to the
other with the huge club-topsail aloft requires coolness, skill and
judgment. Besides, we want to make as clever and close a turn as
possible, so as not to be swept too far to leeward before flattening in
sheets and starting on our long windward beat.
All has been provided for, however. We see all hands on the _Ghost_
taking in the balloon jibtopsail and getting ready to dowse the
spinnaker, for now the stakeboat looms mighty near and the great
struggle of the day is at hand.
“Take in the jibtopsail!” cries our skipper, and this is an easy task,
for the enormous sail is almost becalmed. It is soon spilled, stopped up
and bundled below. Foresail and jib are neatly set and their sheets
trimmed down to the marks.
“See the spinnaker gear clear for taking in,” is the next command. And
this being done, there is silence for the next minute or two. All hands
gather round the mast. One hand stands by to let go the outhaul, another
the halyards, while all get ready to grapple with and spill and smother
the bellying duck and bring it into subjection to the deck.
We are almost on top of the mark when the skipper sings out: “In
spinnaker!”
As the outhaul is slacked, the men, grabbing the foot of the sail, lug
it in, and, spilling the wind out of the flapping canvas, wrestle with
it and victoriously overcome it, until it lies an inert mass at their
feet. The boom is then topped up and all hands lie aft to tend the
mainsheet, which is stretched along the deck to rally in quickly. The
jib and foresail are set already and trimmed down to the marks. A couple
of men stand by ready to “come up” the topmast-backstay and get it set
up on the other side before an undue strain comes on the spar.
“Now, boys, haul in the mainsheet,” says the skipper as he shifts the
helm so as to bring the wind on the other quarter. Hand over hand the
men drag in the boom, pulling as if for dear life. The wind pipes so
breezily that the skipper has as much as he can do to gybe the boat so
as to make a close turn round the mark and carry away nothing.
The boom comes over with a whirl and a rush, and is checked by a turn
round the cleat. The yacht flies up in the wind, but is met with the
helm and the head-sails, and there we are, close-hauled on the port
tack, with three strakes of the lee deck under water and a devil of a
strain on the topmast. The yacht, as she comes to the wind, takes a
header into a big green sea and floods the deck. This is her first fault
of the day, and we cheerfully forgive her, not minding the wetting, and
making up our minds for a hard tussle home against wind and sea.
Now that we have fairly settled down to windward work, we have time to
look after our opponent. We see that she, too, has rounded without
parting a rope-yarn. She is ahead of us, and a wee bit to windward. We
notice that she is being “nipped,” the luff of her mainsail shaking all
the time. She isn’t quite so stiff as we are, and her immense
club-topsail will bury her if her skipper will only give it a chance. He
is afraid to take it in, for he knows that before he could get his
“thimble-header” set we should work out half a mile on his weather, so
he sails her close, and prays that the wind may lull.
Captain Marlin, on the contrary, gives it to _Phantom_ hammer and tongs,
letting her go clean through the water with the sails ramping full. The
decks to leeward are wet, but little does that concern us, for we know
that when we go about on the other tack we shall be able to cross our
rival’s bows, unless she also goes about. And so it comes to pass. The
next “board” assures us that the race is ours, unless we get crippled.
We plant ourselves on the weather of the _Ghost_ and stick to her, tack
and tack. We keep her jammed under our lee, in chancery, as it were; and
there she remains until we cross the line, a winner by 2m. 42s.
We come to anchor, furl the sails, send in a certificate that we have
complied with all the sailing rules of the match, and hoist another
winning flag to join our already long string. Then the steward is sent
ashore, and he quickly returns with a fine feed for the crew, which is
vastly enjoyed by them, after drinking a “horn” apiece to the further
success of the _Phantom_ and her owner.
VII.
RACING RULES AND THE RULE OF THE ROAD.
SOME IMPORTANT POINTS THAT AMATEURS AND PROFESSIONALS SHOULD BEAR IN
MIND.
It is gratifying to all lovers of the sport that race committees now are
in the habit of starting the yachts exactly at the time advertised—that
is if wind and weather permit. The old custom of waiting half an hour or
so for lazy laggards to reach the line is happily going out of fashion.
As a general rule, there is no plausible excuse for a yacht being late,
as under ordinary circumstances arrangements can easily be made for
arriving on the scene, either in tow or under sail, in good season for
the start.
Nothing adds more to the popularity of a yacht club than a race
committee that knows its business, starts the race punctually as
advertised unless prevented by the weather, takes the time accurately of
each craft as she crosses the line, sees that the racing rules are
obeyed, and after the race is finished promptly posts up a list of the
winners. Above all, the committee should make sure that all mark-boats
are in their places before the starting signal is given. I once knew a
race committee—but there, I won’t tell tales out of school.
I hope it will not be held as presumptuous on my part if I ask the race
committees to treat yachting reporters with courtesy. They are sometimes
seasick; they generally would feel much happier ashore. They may
sometimes appear too eager and zealous for information; but their motive
is good, they are anxious to “file early copy” and thus avoid their
editor’s wrath. The members of the club like to see good reports of
their races in the public press, and this end is rarely achieved by
insulting or snubbing a newspaper man, who after all is a human being,
if not of such high degree as a haughty member of a race committee.
Besides, the newspaper man dissembles his wrath, bides his time; and
when his opportunity arrives doesn’t he just roast his insulter?
Members of race committees should keep their eyes open all the time.
They should try to become familiar with the general appearance of each
competing yacht so that she may be identified without the aid of her
number. They should be quick to detect any breach of the rules and
should unhesitatingly punish offenders. Punctuality with the gun is a
cardinal virtue, and strict impartiality is another. In this country, up
to 1898, the decision of the race committee has always been final, there
having been no court of last resort like the Y. R. A. of Great Britain
to appeal to. I am proud to say that very few unsatisfactory decisions
have come under my notice.
As yacht racing is a gentleman’s sport, it is needless to lay stress on
the yacht owner’s obligation to live up to its ethics, to observe the
racing rules in spirit and letter, to be sparing in the use of the
protest-flag—indeed never to display it unless he is convinced that
there has been an undoubted violation of the rules. After he has made
his protest he should not withdraw it, but allow the race committee to
adjudicate upon it. The protest must be made in writing.
A writer in the _Yachtsman_ some years ago, while discussing the whole
subject of protests, suggested that a good way of checking the
unsportsmanlike habit of hoisting a protest-flag without sufficient
cause, would be to compel a competitor displaying the flag to deposit
the sum of £1 with the sailing committee, which should be forfeited to
the club fund in the event of the protest being withdrawn, and only be
repaid in the event of the protest being decided in favor of the
protesting party. This, in my judgment, is a capital suggestion and
should be adopted whenever the time is ripe for it. The upholders of the
maxim, “When in doubt, hoist a protest-flag,” should be brought up with
a round turn. A better maxim is, “Be sure you are right, and then go
ahead.”
There is, however, one point which I wish to make. Not so long ago it
was common report that the owner of a yacht in a class where shifting
ballast was prohibited, habitually carried bags of shot in his cabin and
when the breeze was heavy placed them on a shelf to windward, so as to
increase the boat’s stability. The charge was never investigated.
Whether true or false, I know not. If true, the offender should have
been expelled from the club and from the society of gentlemen generally.
If false, the same justice should have been meted out to his
calumniators. In my opinion, the case called for the fullest inquiry.
The practice of being measured with three light men aboard as crew and
sailing the race with three heavyweights, was begun by certain
unscrupulous tricksters. This was, however, stopped summarily by a hard
and fast rule, defining the limit of live weight to be carried.
The race committee, if it sees any transgression of the sailing rules,
should disqualify the offender, whether a protest is made or not. For
the honor of our yachtsmen be it said, that, generally, if they commit
any breach of the rules, such as fouling a mark, they voluntarily report
the incident to the officers and thus there is no need of an accuser.
An owner above all should make it his business to see for himself that
the taxable length of his yacht is never increased. Remembering the
unhappy Dunraven episode, he should not make charges against his
opponent which he is not prepared to substantiate by most convincing
evidence. A gentleman is as chivalrous concerning his antagonist’s honor
as he is about his own. If not, he ought to be. At the same time, if he
observes any “sharp practice” on the part of a competitor, it is his
duty to expose it in the interest of true sport.
A racing skipper should have the racing rules at his fingers’ ends. For
instance, if his yacht is sailing in the annual regatta of the New York
Yacht Club, he must take care that the vessel’s private signal and her
number are displayed according to the rule; that no more persons are on
board than permissible by Rule 8; that a boat and two life-buoys are on
deck.
I remember having been a guest on the cutter _Mayflower_ in her race
against the _Volunteer_ for the Goelet cup, when a mistake was made
about a boat, which, if it had not been rectified in time, might have
led to our disqualification. We carried a small boat on deck, but
finding it rather in the way when working ship, we passed it down the
skylight into the main saloon. One of Commodore E. D. Morgan’s guests
pointed out that the rule stated plainly that the boat must be carried
_on deck_. In a jiffy the offending boat was lugged up out of the cabin
and placed where it rightfully belonged.
The skipper must study the sailing instructions with critical care; he
must not forget that, the preparatory signal once made, the yacht is
amenable to the racing rules until the end of the contest; that a yacht
going free keeps clear of a yacht close-hauled; that a yacht
close-hauled on the port tack keeps clear of a yacht close-hauled on the
starboard tack; that when going free on opposite tacks, the yacht with
the wind on the port side keeps clear; that when going free on the same
tack the windward yacht keeps clear; that a yacht with the wind aft
keeps clear of all others; that when yachts which overlap are rounding a
mark or passing an obstruction, the outside yacht must give room to and
keep clear of the inside yacht.
He should remember that a yacht on the port tack can be disqualified if
she strike or be struck by a yacht on the starboard tack, also if the
latter luff, tack or bear away to avoid being struck. This is a most
important rule, because if a breach of it occurs, the yacht responsible
for it is not only disqualified but is liable for any damage that may
result.
When yachts approach an obstruction close-hauled, and the leeward yacht
cannot tack and clear the windward yacht, the helmsman of the leeward
yacht should hail for room and the two yachts must then tack together.
An overtaking yacht must keep clear of an overtaken yacht, which may
luff but must not bear away out of her course to obstruct the passage of
her competitor to leeward. If a yacht runs ashore, or fouls a vessel or
other obstruction, she may use her own boats and gear to get clear, but
she must take them aboard again, and is forbidden to accept help except
from the crew of the vessel fouled. This rule is, however, qualified by
another, which declares that when accidents occur competing yachts must
assist to save life.
A yacht must be propelled by sail alone after the preparatory gun. If
she is late and is being towed toward the starting line when the
preparatory signal is given, she may be disqualified. Tardy owners and
skippers should keep tab on this. A yacht may anchor during a race, but
she may not slip. She must not warp or kedge, or make fast to a buoy,
pier, vessel or other obstruction. The government regulations regarding
lights and fog signals, shall be observed by day and by night.
These are the principal rules which the skipper should never forget if
he desires to achieve or maintain a reputation. One thing I want to
impress upon him is that in any emergency when his vessel may be in
peril, it is his imperative duty to follow the regulations of the rule
of the road at sea, as prescribed by international law, and disregard
any racing rules that in the slightest degree conflict with a literal
interpretation of this rule. If he fails in this duty his owner is
responsible for any and all damage incurred by his vessel or by the
vessel he collides with. In an admiralty court the racing rules of a
yacht club or a yacht-racing association are disregarded. The case is
judged by standard rules of law that prevail among all seafaring
nations. Those who break the law must pay the penalty thereof. I cannot
impress this little legal maxim too strongly on both owners and
skippers.
[Illustration: [Ship’s wheel]]
[Illustration:
“VIGILANT.”
]
VIII.
EVOLUTION OF THE RACER.
HOW TONNAGE AND MEASUREMENT RULES HAVE AFFECTED FORM IN AMERICA AND
GREAT BRITAIN.
The growth of the English cutter from its cradle, on the south and east
coasts, where the fantail stern was created, is an interesting study.
From the _Pearl_, designed by Sainty, the smuggler, for the Marquis of
Anglesey, down to the modern yacht of 1899, it is apparent that the
evolution of the craft was slow and gradual until about 1880, since when
strides of unprecedented length have been taken. Up to 1880 yacht
designing advanced sluggishly, both here and abroad, but the progress of
the art could be marked by the intelligent student, even as a trained
forester can tell the age of an oak from a section of the trunk. The
more closely you observe, the more clearly are you convinced that the
naval architects of both countries have for some time been converging to
a common goal. This goal they now seem to have attained.
In order to give an intelligent summary of the development of the racing
yacht of to-day, it is necessary, as we progress, to take note of the
measurement or tonnage rule which caused the change in the form of the
yacht.
The yacht of the early part of the century was an apple-bowed craft of
about three beams to length, ballasted with stone, gravel, or old iron.
Competition was restricted to matches between two yachts, the bigger
craft, other things being equal, usually winning. The first rule was
derived from the mercantile marine, and had been in force since 1794. It
was one in which length of keel and fore-rake, and the breadth at
broadest place, were the only dimensions that were measured. It did not
matter how high or how low the vessel was in the hold, half-breadth was
taken to represent the depth, in calculating tonnage. The tendency of
this rule was to make vessels high, narrow, and flat-sided, in order to
get as large a carrier as possible with the smallest registered tonnage.
This was called builder’s tonnage, and was in vogue until 1854 in the
mercantile marine. It was applied to yachts simply as a guide for
building them or for their purchase and sale. Up to 1854 there was no
time allowance whatever. Big and little yachts raced together
indiscriminately, and, of course, the larger boats had the advantage. It
struck Mr. Holland Ackers as being somewhat of an anomaly, so he
proposed a table of time allowances between large and small yachts, the
basis being the difference in size, as measured by the merchant-ship
tonnage rule, as given above, and the length of the course.
[Illustration:
Photo by J. C. Hemment.
“DEFENDER” IN DRY DOCK.
]
To evade the heavy harbor dues, etc., to which merchant vessels were
liable under the 1794 tonnage rule, shipbuilders naturally reduced beam,
which was penalized twice over, and increased depth, which was not taxed
at all, thus creating a vicious type of vessel. Yacht builders followed
suit, gradually increasing draught and decreasing beam. Then came the
raking sternpost, introduced about 1850 by Wanhill, of Poole, which gave
on a given length of keel a much longer water-line. Outside lead
followed.
In 1854 the “Thames Rule” was adopted, by which the length on deck was
measured and from this length the whole beam was subtracted.
This system did fairly well till heavy lead keels were introduced. Then
builders and owners found that with a lot of length and depth yachts
could carry sail enough to make them faster and more powerful vessels
than their predecessors, the reason being because they were far larger
in reality, carrying about 25 per cent. more sail and ballast, whereas
if the actual draught of water had been used as a factor in defining the
tonnage no such abortions as this rule encouraged would ever have been
built.
The apple bow and barrel-like bottom flourished in England until 1851,
when the schooner-yacht _America_ created a revolution in British yacht
naval architecture. Then, following the shape of that memorable craft,
the long, hollow bow became the fashion.
In 1878 the Yacht Racing Association decided that the length should be
measured on the load water-line instead of on deck. This was principally
owing to the circumstance that designers, in order to cheat the rule,
had adopted such devices as a ram bow and an immersed counter.
[Illustration:
“THISTLE,” NOW “COMÈTE,” EMPEROR OF GERMANY, OWNER.
]
The yachts continued to get longer and narrower and deeper until, in
1882, the Yacht Racing Association adopted a rule a trifle easier on
beam; and in 1887 a rule was formulated in which length and sail area
alone were penalized, beam being left free from any tax whatever. It is
interesting to note that the first yacht built that took advantage of
this rule was the _Thistle_, which challenged for the _America’s_ Cup in
1887 and was defeated by _Volunteer_. _Thistle’s_ beam was 20.3 feet,
while that of _Genesta_ and _Galatea_ was 15 feet. A comparison of two
crack English craft and two smart Yankee yachts of the year 1893 shows
how close Mr. Herreshoff and Mr. Watson were coming:
_Length L. W. L. Feet._ _Beam. Feet._
_Britannia_ 87.8 23.66
_Valkyrie II_ 86.8 22.33
_Navahoe_, C. B. 86.93 23.00
_Vigilant_, C. B. 86.19 26.25
[Illustration:
“VOLUNTEER.”
]
Still more significant are the measurements of _Valkyrie III._ and
_Defender_, both keel Craft:
_Length L. W. L. Feet._ _Beam. Feet._
_Valkyrie III_ 88.85 26.20
_Defender_ 88.45 22.20
It will be seen that not only did the American designer discard the
centerboard, but he gave his craft less beam than the British boat. I
remember when both vessels were hauled out in the Erie Basin, Brooklyn,
the American yacht was generally mistaken for the English, and vice
versa; this, too, by experts looking on from a distance too remote to
distinguish the names on their sterns.
In 1892 the leading yacht designers of Great Britain, realizing the
rating rule then in vogue, wrote to the Yacht Racing Association
suggesting that the rule be so modified that a type of vessel having
more body be evolved. In the same communication they said, defining what
the general public requires in a yacht:
“That she shall be safe in all conditions of wind and weather, that she
shall combine the maximum of room on deck and below with the minimum of
prime cost, and that she shall be driven as fast as may be, with the
least expenditure of labor, _i. e._, that she shall have a moderate and
workable sail area. Therefore, as but few men can afford to build for
racing, and for racing only, and as the racer of to-day is the cruiser
of a few years hence, any rating rule should, by its limitations,
encourage such a wholesome type of vessel.”
[Illustration:
Photo by J. C. Hemment
“VALKYRIE III.” IN DRY DOCK.
]
The Yacht Racing Association, on the other hand, held the view that what
the yacht-owning public want in a racing yacht is speed first, last, and
all the time, no matter what the cost. The only change made at that time
was in the measurement of the fore triangle and marking the load
water-line forward and aft.
[Illustration:
Designed by Watson, 1894.
“ELLEN”—20-RATER.
]
_Thistle_ was the first big English racing cutter with a clipper bow.
Her advent caused much critical comment among the experts, whose eyes
had become so accustomed to the “cutter stem” that they fairly blinked
when they first gazed on the new Clyde craft.
Mr. Watson, writing about the defeat of the _Thistle_ in 1894, says:
“Her surface was so cut down that sufficient lateral plane was not left
to hold her to windward, and although she sailed the water as fast as
the American champion, the _Volunteer_, she drifted bodily to leeward.”
After Mr. Watson had realized the superiority of _Vigilant’s_ model over
that of _Valkyrie II._, he designed the 20-rater _Ellen_, which I
reproduce from a photograph. It will be noticed that her form is
strikingly similar to that of _Vigilant_. Of a verity, imitation is the
sincerest form of flattery!
With the long overhang forward, the running bowsprit was abolished. The
modified cutter rig thus resulting is practically the same in both
America and England. Bobstays are now bars of steel or iron, and
bowsprits are comparatively short when compared with those that used to
project from the bows of the straight-stemmed cutters.
The clipper bow was gradually altered and modified until the present
stage was reached.
That sterling old British racing skipper, Captain Tom Jay, talking about
the modern cutter, with her cutaway forefoot and raking sternpost, being
an awkward craft to handle in a seaway, said: “Believe me, sir, it’s not
always so much the craft that’s awkward as the people that’s in her. Of
course, being so easy to drive, they reach faster than the old-fashioned
vessels, and that makes them drive harder into the seas; but that is
mostly a matter of the canvas you set. Of course, the worst time is when
you’re sailing a point or two free, because they go their ten knots, and
that means that they throw it about a bit.”
[Illustration:
BOW, 1892.
]
In our own country the measurement rules have also had a dominant
influence on the form of our racing craft as they appear in 1899.
[Illustration:
STERN, 1892.
]
[Illustration:
MIDSHIP SECTIONS OF FIVE ENGLISH CUTTERS.
]
[Illustration:
THE CUP CONTESTANTS.
The lower lines are approximately those of the English cutters, except
in the case of “Valkyrie III.,” which is wider and shallower than
“Defender.”
]
Monstrosities with fin-keels now monopolize the races in the larger
classes, while scows and ingenious nondescripts, which sailors would
never mistake for boats, control all the sport in the smaller classes.
How to give the owner of the honest boat a fair show, while at the same
time dealing justly with the owner of the racing machine, is a problem
that seeks for solution at the hands of constituted yachting
authorities. The present fleet of “freaks” is due in the first instance
to the want of foresight displayed by the clubs in not legislating
against them when they first made their appearance. Naval architects are
only human, and they cannot be blamed for taking advantage of any and
every ill-considered rule adopted by the clubs. For instance, when beam
was taxed in Great Britain the result was the long, deep and narrow
craft which so long prevailed across the Atlantic. The tax was taken off
beam in 1886, and the consequence was the practical abolition of the
narrow British cutter and the adoption of a beamier type of craft. At
the present time beam as a factor is utilized in much the same way both
in this country and in Great Britain. Until some sage discovers what is
absolutely the best type of yacht, we shall continue to go beating about
the bush.
There is no doubt that a rating rule can be so framed as to make any
particular type come into vogue, and in the end that type is bound to be
pushed to extremes. Experience has shown that when this stage arises in
an acute form the standard of rating is altered. This has been the case
in the United States ever since the sport became established. When the
New York Yacht Club was organized in 1844 the yachts were rated
according to Custom House tonnage, first-class sloops allowing 35
seconds a ton and second-class sloops allowing 45 seconds a ton to their
inferiors. This system was in force for only two years. In 1840 a
startling innovation was made. It was neither more nor less than getting
the actual weight of the yachts, which was computed by the revolutions
of screw-jacks placed under the keel of the boat when in dry dock. Here
is an example culled from the club’s archives:
[Illustration:
“VOLUNTEER” AND “THISTLE.”
]
[Illustration:
“VIGILANT” AND “VALKYRIE II.”
]
YACHT “SYREN.”
Weight of boat 115,776 lbs.
Weight of keel 3,400 lbs.
Weight of rudder 219 lbs.
———————
Total 119,395 lbs.
Racing measurement, 53 tons 6
cwt. 9 lbs.
From these data the allowances were computed. This queer rule was in
vogue until 1852, when a widely different regulation was adopted. Sail
area alone was taken into account, the following being the allowance:
First class—Over 3,300 square feet sail area, 1 second per foot.
Second class—Between 2,300 and 3,300 feet, 1¼ seconds per foot.
Third class—Less than 2,300 feet, 1½ seconds per foot.
[Illustration:
“VALKYRIE II.”
]
The natural result of this rule was the adoption of the light-draught
boats vulgarly designated as “skimming dishes.” It was found that it
took less canvas to drive this type of yacht through the water, and the
consequence was the building of many curious craft whose models may now
be seen on the walls of the New York Yacht Club. Here is a striking
example, which shows how the rule affected the sail area of the yachts.
The schooner _Rebecca_, which, before the rule was made, used to carry a
sail spread of 3,303 square feet, was cut down to an area of 1,306
square feet. This absurd rule was in force with a few modifications
until 1871, when yet another sweeping change was made. This time the
elements consisted of the yacht’s displacement in cubic feet and the
length of the water-line. In 1873 the rule was changed so as to take
into account the cubic contents of the whole hull. In 1883 a plan was
adopted taking into account, as a function of the new system, twice the
water-line length and once the sail area. In 1890 the present rule was
adopted by the New York Yacht Club.
[Illustration:
“VALKYRIE III.”
]
[Illustration:
MODERN TYPE OF FIN.
]
[Illustration:
“DEFENDER” AND “VALKYRIE III.”
]
[Illustration:
Photo by J. C. Hemment
HOISTING “DEFENDER’S” MAINSAIL.
]
Personally, I am opposed to any system that restricts or taxes sail, and
I am glad to be able to quote the veteran Scotch yacht designer, Mr.
William Fife, Sr., as being on my side of the fence. He wrote, in
January, 1895: “I am not a believer in restricting sail; every yacht
should get what she can carry. I know this idea has many opponents,
although I never saw a valid reason against it; a yacht can be spoiled
with excessive spars and sails, and sail area may therefore be left to
take care of itself. To satisfy those, however, who fear that, in the
absence of any tax on sail area, excessive sail areas might be
introduced, a maximum allowance of so many square feet per ton might be
specified.”
We are, however, confronted by conditions and not theories, but I could
not help putting myself on record as being against the taxation of sail.
I am almost alone in this. But to resume. _Madge_, _Clara_ and other
imported British cutters had considerable influence, and caused our
designers to modify the shallow underwater bodies and beamy tops, the
_Puritan_ in 1885 being the first successful compromise vessel built in
the United States. _Mayflower_ and _Volunteer_ followed.
Under the British tonnage rule in vogue in 1886, a 90-foot yacht of
26-foot beam would have been an impossibility, but as soon as the
penalty was taken off beam the British designers took advantage of the
circumstance and followed in the footsteps of the Americans, until, in
the days of _Valkyrie III._ and _Defender_, the national types were
practically the same, Herreshoff being a trifle in advance of Watson, as
the victory of the British craft demonstrated.
Meanwhile, the only way I see out of the difficulty between racing
machines and honest boats is to sail them in different classes. The plan
is good to draw up tables of scantlings and rules for the construction
of all racing yachts to be built in the future. As for the “freaks”
unhappily now in existence, it is consolatory to be assured that they
will all fall to pieces very soon. It is a great wonder, indeed, that
some of them did not succumb at the close of their first season.
The photographs of _Valkyrie III._ and _Defender_, in dry dock, which,
through the kindness of my friend Mr. J. C. Hemment, I am able to
reproduce in this chapter, show the remarkable similarity that exists
between the two yachts. Both were taken as the vessels appeared in the
Erie Basin when, on the eve of the first race, they were docked to
receive the final touches for the fray.
_Defender’s_ hull is of metal, as I have previously mentioned, and she
was subjected to a very thorough polishing-up above and below the
water-line. I had an opportunity which I did not allow to escape me of
closely examining the hull of the saucy Yankee craft and comparing her
lines with those of the British boat. _Defender_, when after a little
while you came to appreciate the wondrous symmetry of her underbody,
exhibited a fairy-like form when contrasted with the less perfect shape
of her rival. I make this criticism while at the same time having the
profoundest respect for the genius of Mr. Watson, whose talent as a
naval architect nobody admires more than I do.
[Illustration:
Photo by J. C. Hemment
“DEFENDER” UNDER BROOKLYN BRIDGE.
]
But after my visit to the Erie Basin in Brooklyn I formed the opinion
that the _America’s_ cup was, barring accidents, perfectly safe for
another year. _Defender_ exhibited all the grace of a thoroughbred
horse, while _Valkyrie_ was a clumsier but apparently a more powerful
creation. _Defender_, in point of fact, was as highly finished a product
of the skillful naval architect as was the Scotch cutter _Minerva_ when
compared with some of the “brutes” that were built to beat her.
I had plenty of time to examine both vessels, and I need not say that
each had a wondrous attraction for me. I saw Captain Cranfield mix his
famous black varnish for _Valkyrie’s_ bottom, a compound whose two
principal elements are coal tar and “turps,” but which gives a
surprising gloss and sleek finish when mingled in correct proportions. I
saw this applied to the wooden planking of the English clipper, and
thought to myself that something more potent and speed-compelling would
be necessary to plaster her with if the cup were to be carried away. My
friends on the staff of OUTING remember that on my return to the office
from the Erie Basin I told them my views of the rival yachts, and
predicted an easy victory for the Yankee craft.
My sympathy was with the British boat. I realized that in the interest
of true sport it would be a capital thing for the _America’s_ cup to
leave our shores for a while, because it would put our yacht designers
on their mettle, and produce something wondrous in the yacht line so far
as speed is concerned. But it struck me that _Valkyrie_ was scarcely
good enough to accomplish the task for which she was constructed. Now I
am neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but I simply relate facts
as they occurred. I am convinced also that Mr. Watson, after examining
_Defender_ in dock, realized that his work had been in vain, and that
_Valkyrie_, admirable as she was and is, was a wee bit inferior to the
peerless Bristol flyer.
The photograph of _Defender_ passing under Brooklyn Bridge, which her
topmast truck barely cleared at the top of high water, shows the
tauntness of her mast, and is a splendid object lesson, worthy of
preservation for all time. The spirited photograph of her crew tailing
onto the throat halyards of the mainsail shows the light but strong rig
forward, the stumpy bowsprit, the batten-like bulwark, and the other
modern features of the beau-ideal racing vessel of 1895.
[Illustration:
“DEFENDER” UNDER SAIL.
]
Whatever developments there may be in store for us with regard to hull,
rig and sail plan, I know not. But if within the next ten years as great
progress is made as has been made during the past decade, the racing
machine of that epoch will indeed be a marvelous scientific product.
Personally, I am quite willing to endure my earthly burdens for a while
longer if only for the pleasure of gratifying my curiosity about the
yacht of the future, which has more charms for me than the evolution of
the new woman, fascinating as this study doubtless is.
During the many years in which I have been interested in yachting I have
seen many eventful changes in the yachts, their rig, their sail plan,
and also in the rules that govern their races. Speed has perhaps been
developed at the expense of seaworthiness, but yacht sailors have also
become more expert at their calling, having progressed with the times.
Skippers have learned to handle craft like _Valkyrie_ or _Defender_,
with main booms of steel 105 feet long, in half a gale of wind; and
there is no doubt that, properly rigged and under capable charge, they
are as safe for an ocean voyage as any other kind of craft. I will not
say a word about the comfort or the accommodations to be found in one of
the big racing cutters; but sailors are accustomed to hardships, even as
eels to the knife of the cook that skins them.
Much stress has been laid upon the superior advantages that _Defender_
had over _Valkyrie III._, inasmuch as the challenger was built more
strongly and heavily, as she had to cross the ocean to race for the cup.
I don’t think that the mere circumstance of a transatlantic voyage would
induce a modern yacht designer to add a single superfluous ounce of
weight to a racing craft. Luck is depended on to a certain extent, but
the bold and skillful skipper is relied on most of all.
I remember reading the other day of a valiant sea captain whose steamer
was disabled in a hurricane and lost her funnel. What did this brave
fellow do? Give up the ship and take to the boats? Not he; he came from
a different breed. He rigged up a jury funnel of timber, barrels and
canvas, and by playing the hose on this improvised smokestack and
keeping it continually drenched with water managed to keep up a good
head of steam and eventually reach port. He came of the great Anglo
Saxon race, which has done many heroic deeds afloat and will continue to
achieve daring actions just as long as Old Ocean endures. Thus, while I
am writing about the evolution of the racer, permit me to pay my humble
tribute of praise to the brave seamen who man the racing yachts and have
made as much headway in handling the marvelous pieces of mechanism as
their designers have done in “creating” them.
[Illustration:
“VALKYRIE III.”
]
IX.
THE ETIQUETTE OF YACHTING.
WHAT IS CONSIDERED TO BE “GOOD FORM” IN CRAFT, OWNER AND CREW.
Every yachtsman should be conversant with the etiquette of his calling.
If ignorant of the many nice points pertaining to his own personal
behavior afloat, or of the proper conduct of his craft at anchor or
under way, he may become the subject of a certain amount of ridicule,
which is, to say the least, annoying in the extreme. There are many
commodores who would rather forgive a man for breaking the majority of
the Ten Commandments between dusk and dawn than for committing a breach
of nautical etiquette as handed down from the days of the fathers of the
sport and added to infinitesimally year by year.
In Great Britain yachting etiquette is modeled largely after that of the
Royal Navy, and the same is true in a measure of our own code of
yachting manners.
It ought to be unnecessary to urge that a yacht should always be clean
and bright as a new pin; her decks white as a hound’s tooth; her
brasswork gleaming, and her polished or varnished woodwork with a
mirror-like burnish. Her masts should be correctly stayed, her standing
rigging set up to the point of rigidity, her running gear hauled taut
and snugly coiled down, her flags mast-headed right up to the truck, no
“Irish pennants” towing overboard, but everything from truck to keelson
ship-shape and Bristol fashion. A yacht kept in good order is a credit
to all aboard from owner down to the cook’s mate. Not only is she a
credit to those who man her, but also to the club whose burgee she
flies. In this respect all yachtsmen, but especially racing yachtsmen,
should aim at perfection, and not be satisfied until they make a clear
bull’s eye.
The reason for this is that a racing yacht invariably attracts more
attention than does one of the purely cruising kind, and any
carelessness, however minute, aboard her is generally sure to be
magnified to a high degree by the microscopic eye of criticism.
Racing crews should always be clean and smart as paint. Untidiness
should never be allowed.
In the matter of guns, Young America, particularly when afloat, is apt
to be a trifle too demonstrative. It need hardly be said that the
indiscriminate discharge of cannon from a yacht is, like the screeching
salute of a steam whistle, opposed to good yachting manners. There are
only a few occasions when it is necessary to waste good gunpowder on a
yacht. The custom in this country is for all the yachts to salute the
flag officer in command of a squadron when he joins the fleet, every
boat that carries a gun banging away when the flagship drops anchor.
This is a picturesque sight when the fleet is a big one. When the
squadron of the New York Yacht Club used to rendezvous at New London for
the annual cruise a big crowd of sightseers used to sally forth from the
quaint old city to see the flagship join the squadron and receive the
salutes. The bang of the big guns from the mighty steam yachts and the
diminutive din from the pigmy popguns of tiny but pretentious craft made
a rare noise in the harbor, especially when the fleet, as it often did,
numbered more than one hundred sail. This saluting of the commodore is
considered obligatory, and for the use of yachtsmen who do not care to
include a brass cannon in their outfit some ingenious pyrotechnist
invented a giant cracker, whose discharge is as earsplitting as that
from the biggest yacht cannon ever carried. To hear such a threatening
bang emanate from so small a yacht creates something akin to awe! When a
squadron or part of a squadron is at anchor in a roadstead the flag
officer in command or the senior captain present fires a gun at eight
bells in the morning watch making “colors,” the fleet taking the time
from the flagship. The same process is gone through at sundown, the
fleet at the sound of the gun hauling down the ensign and the club
burgee and hoisting the night pennant.
The commodore, when in command of a squadron, when hoisting a signal to
get under way or perform any other nautical manœuvre, calls attention to
the signal by firing a gun. The yachts, in order to show that the signal
has been observed, hoist the answering pennant of the commercial code of
signals.
Saluting by means of the gun when yachts meet under way is obsolete,
although not forbidden by the code. Craft now content themselves with
dipping the ensign, junior captains saluting first.
No firing of guns is permissible on Sunday.
Owners when not aboard should fly a blue rectangular flag from the
starboard spreader (the main spreader of a schooner). In order that
visitors may not intrude when the owner is at meals, a white rectangular
flag is displayed from the spreader as above. A red pennant from the
port fore spreader of a schooner or the port spreader of a single-masted
craft denotes that the crew are at a meal.
If I may make so bold as to give a hint to a real live commodore, I
venture to suggest that he shall try his level best to appoint a
fleet-captain of tact, good temper, sound judgment, discretion—in fact,
a gentleman as well as a man of the world. I have been on a cruise with
a fleet-captain possessing all the sterling attributes above enumerated,
and I have also sailed with one his direct opposite. Thus I speak from
experience. A fleet-captain may do much to make or mar the pleasure of a
cruise.
Single-masted vessels display the private signals of their owners when
cruising; when at anchor they fly the club burgee.
In making colors, salutes, etc., the yacht always represents the rank of
the owner, whether he is aboard or not.
Yachts in commission should hoist their colors at 8 o’clock A. M., and
haul them down at sunset, taking time from the senior officer present.
Before colors in the morning and after colors at sunset, the ensign and
distinguishing flags should be shown when entering port, and should be
hauled down immediately on coming to anchor.
At all other times yachts should fly a night pennant at the main, from
colors at sunset until colors the next morning.
On Decoration Day and occasions of national mourning, the ensign only
should be half-masted. On the death of the owner of the yacht, both the
club flag and his private signal should be half-masted, but not the
ensign. When mourning is ordered for the death of a member of the club,
the club flag only should be half-masted. This rule applies to yachts
both at anchor and under way.
Flags should always be mast-headed before half-masting them, and should
be mast-headed before hauling them down. Saluting with the ensign at
half-mast should be done by mast-heading first.
The senior officer present should be in command of the anchorage, should
give the time for colors, make and return salutes, visits, etc.
His yacht should remain the station vessel until a senior to him in rank
arrives and assumes the command of the anchorage.
Flag officers should always fly their pennants while in commission.
From colors at sunset until sunrise the commodore should show, when on
board, two blue lights, perpendicularly, at the stern; when absent, one
blue light should be shown. The vice-commodore should show lights as
provided for the commodore, substituting red lights instead of blue.
Captains, when on board, should show a white light under the main boom;
when absent this light should be extinguished.
All salutes should be returned in kind.
Yachts should always salute vessels of the United States Navy by dipping
the ensign once.
The commodore, on entering port to join the squadron, should be saluted,
on coming to anchor, by the yachts present. On all other occasions the
commodore should be saluted, on coming to anchor, by the officer in
command.
Junior flag officers should be saluted, on coming to anchor, by the
officer in command, unless the latter be a senior in rank, in which case
they should salute him.
Captains should, on all occasions, salute the officer in command.
The salute from yachts entering port should be made by dipping the
ensign once, or by firing a gun on letting go anchor.
The senior officer, when leaving the anchorage, excepting temporarily,
should indicate the transfer of command to the next in rank by firing a
gun on getting under way. All other yachts should salute the officer in
command.
All visits should be made according to rank.
Yachts, passing one another, should always exchange salutes by dipping
the ensign once, juniors saluting first. Steam whistles should never be
used to make salutes.
The salute to yachts entering port, entitled to a salute, should be made
by dipping the ensign once, or by firing a gun when they let go anchor.
An official salute to a foreign club should be made by firing a gun,
with the flag of the foreign club at the fore on schooners and steamers
and at the main on single-masted vessels, or, in the absence of such
flag, by half-masting the club flag and firing a gun. When the salute
has been returned, or a reasonable time for its return allowed, the flag
should be hauled down and the club flag hoisted again.
The salute from or to yachts arriving after sunset, or on Sunday, should
be made immediately after colors on the following morning.
When a flag officer makes an official visit, a gun should be fired, with
his pennant at the fore on schooners and steamers, and at the main on
single-masted vessels, while he remains on board.
A yacht, acting as judges’ boat, should not be saluted during a race.
The quarter-deck should always be saluted by lifting the cap on coming
on board or from below.
Yachts should report to the commanding officer on joining the squadron,
and should obtain his permission before leaving it.
When under way with the squadron, firing guns and signaling should be
avoided, except when joining or parting company, or when repeating
signals.
When squadrons of different clubs meet at sea, salutes should be
exchanged only by the commanding officers.
Salutes from single yachts at sea should only be answered by the
flagship.
Single-masted vessels should fly the private signal of the owner when
under way with the squadron; when at anchor, the club flag.
When a foreign yacht arrives, the senior officer present should send on
board, without regard to rank, a tender of the civilities of the club.
Yachts should salute on entering port in the home waters of a foreign
club, where any of its fleet are lying. After the tender of civilities
has been made, owners of the entering yachts should visit the officer in
command of the anchorage. All other visits should be made according to
rank, visits to their equals in rank being made by the owners of the
entering yachts.
The time for colors in the home waters of a foreign club should be given
with its senior flag officer present.
The term “foreign” should be understood as applying to all clubs outside
of the waters of the Gulf of Maine.
Flag officers and the fleet-captain should fly their pennants, and
captains their private signals, when in their boats; members, the club
flag. After sunset a white light should be shown at the bow.
Passing one another, juniors should salute seniors by raising the cap.
Following are the words of command used in the handling of rowing boats:
_Give Way._—To begin rowing.
_Hold Water._—To stop the boat’s progress by keeping the blades of the
oars in the water in a vertical position, and at right angles to
the keel.
_In Bow._—To cease pulling the bow oar and to lay it down fore and aft
within the boat, the blade forward.
_Let Fall._—To let the oars drop from the vertical to the horizontal,
the loom resting in the rowlock, the blade held out of the water
and horizontal, the oar itself at right angles to the keel.
_Oars._—To cease rowing, and to maintain the oars in the same position
that they are in after executing the order “Let Fall.”
_Ship Oars._—To lift trailing oars out of the water alongside and hold
them as described for “Let Fall.”
_Shove Off._—To force the boat away from a vessel’s side or from a
wharf or float.
_Stern All._—To row the boat backwards—the opposite to “Give Way.”
_Toss._—To lift the oars out of the water and lay them down within the
boat, fore and aft, the blades forward.
_Trail._—To throw trailing oars out of the rowlock and allow them to
_trail_ alongside by their lanyards.
_Up Oars._—To raise the oars to the vertical, the blades kept fore and
aft—a preface to the order “Let Fall.”
_Way Enough._—To cease rowing, and to lift the oars out of the water
and boat them, at the coxswain’s word, “Toss.”
When visiting a yacht at anchor, steer for the starboard gangway. The
port gangway is the “back door” of a yacht and is reserved for sailors,
stewards, etc.
When boarding a yacht under way, or hove to, go to the lee side, no
matter whether port or starboard.
Don’t forget to “salute the quarter-deck” on reaching it by touching
your cap in naval style.
As soon as you get aboard pay your respects to the owner. If you don’t
see him on deck send your card to him immediately.
A young yachtsman, when about to embark in a boat from a yacht, should
go over the side first and should take a modest seat. The owner of the
yacht is last to leave and takes the post of honor at the tiller lines.
When disembarking at a landing, returning to the yacht, or going aboard
another vessel, the owner leaves the boat first, the modest youngster
last.
[Illustration:
Photo by R. B. Burchard.
DEFENDER—STERN.
]
X.
YACHTING INSURANCE.[1]
ALSO A FEW LEGAL WRINKLES ON THE STATUS AND RELATION OF OWNER TO CREW.
Footnote 1:
The author is indebted to an eminent marine jurist (commonly known as
a sea lawyer) for all the information contained in this chapter.
Underwriters, as a rule, seem not particularly anxious to run foot-races
after the owners of small yachts who navigate their own craft. For some
reason or other the amateur skipper is looked upon by them with
suspicion and disfavor. Why, I do not know, for considering the immense
number of pleasure craft in commission every year the ratio of loss
through wreck, collision, or fire is remarkably low. I think, if
underwriters took this circumstance into consideration, they would find
it in their interest to offer more attractive inducements to owners of
yachts to insure their floating property.
The vast number of pleasure craft in commission on the Atlantic and
Pacific seaboards, on our great fresh-water lakes, and on the large
sheets of water that, like the Great South Bay, are divided from the
ocean proper by a strip of sand, more or less narrow, should I think
excite interest in marine underwriters, and induce them to offer
attractive terms to yacht owners.
The most dangerous fire risk in New York or any other great city is
eagerly sought for by the lynx-eyed agents of insurance companies. No
tenement is too flimsy; no habitation exposed to the accident of a mouse
and a nest of matches is too perilous for the competition wallahs of the
gigantic corporations.
Bearing this in mind the owners of small craft have frequently tried, in
the lack of aid from the large companies, to start a co-operative scheme
of their own, but because of the want of an enterprising and intelligent
organizer the project has always fallen through.
Early in the present year I was asked by a friend of mine to try to get
a policy of marine insurance on a 35-foot yacht which is worth at least
$4,000 as she floats—lead keel and all the latest improvements. I had
the greatest difficulty in effecting the deal. As a matter of fact no
insurance company jumped out of its shoes with alacrity to accept the
risk. Had it been some ramshackle old schooner, rotten in hull,
deficient in sails and rigging, and manned by a scanty crew, I was told
there would be little or no trouble in consummating the transaction.
Pleasure vessels are viewed with suspicion that they do not deserve. I
allude principally to the smaller classes of craft, which underwriters
steer clear of as though they were affected by a hoodoo worse than that
of Friday and the thirteenth day of the month.
Marine insurance, so far as applicable to yachts, seems to be in a mixed
and muddled condition. The owner of a steam yacht, commanded by a duly
qualified master, and with the machinery in charge of a licensed
engineer, has no difficulty in insuring his vessel at ordinary rates. As
the risk is, generally speaking, not so hazardous as that of ships
engaged in freight-carrying both summer and winter, underwriters, as a
rule, give steam-yacht owners quite favorable terms, provided the yacht
is seaworthy and well-found. A large, steel, steam yacht run under the
foregoing conditions was insured up to her real value at a premium of
three per cent. against losses by fire, collision, or the perils of the
sea, the risk being divided _pro rata_ on the vessel’s hull, tackle,
apparel and furniture, and the machinery and boilers.
The policy, in this instance, protected the yacht against the “perils of
the seas, men-of-war, fire, enemies, pirates, rovers, thieves,
jettisons, letters of marque and countermarque, surprisals, takings at
sea, arrests, restraints, and detainment of all kings, princes and
people, of what nations, condition, or quality soever, barratry of the
master and mariners, and all other perils, losses and misfortunes that
have or shall come to the hurt, detriment or damage of the said ship,
etc., or any part thereof. And in case of any loss or misfortune it
shall be lawful for the assured, their factors, servants and assigns, to
sue, labor and travel for, in and about the defence, safeguard and
recovery of the said ship, etc., or any part thereof, without prejudice
to this insurance; to the charges whereof the said insurance company
will contribute according to the rate and quantity of the sum herein
assured.
“Each voyage to be subject to general average, particular average to be
payable on each valuation separately or on the whole, if amounting to
three per cent., or the vessel be _stranded, sunk, burnt, on fire, or in
collision_. With leave to sail with or without pilots, to tow and to be
towed, and to assist vessels and/or craft in all situations and to any
extent, to render salvage services, and to go on trial trips. With leave
to dock, undock, and change docks as often as may be required, and to go
on slipway, gridiron and/or pontoon, and/or to adjust compasses,
including the risk of launching.
“In case of any claim for average the repairs to be paid without
deduction of one-third, whether the average be particular or general.
“General average and salvage charges as per foreign custom, payable as
per foreign statement, and/or per York-Antwerp rules, if required; and
in the event of salvage, towage or other assistance being rendered to
the vessel hereby insured, by any vessel belonging in part or in whole
to the same owners, it is hereby agreed that the value of such services
(without regard to the common ownership of the vessels) shall be
ascertained by arbitration in the manner hereinafter provided for under
the collision clause, and the amount so awarded, so far as applicable to
the interest hereby insured, shall constitute a charge under this
policy.
“And it is further agreed, that if the ship hereby insured shall come
into collision with any other ship or vessel, and the assured shall in
consequence thereof become liable to pay, and shall pay, by way of
damages to any other person or persons, any sum or sums not exceeding in
respect of any one such collision the value of the ship hereby insured,
we, the assurers, will pay the assured such proportion of three-fourths
of such sum or sums so paid as our subscriptions hereto bear to the
value of the ship hereby insured. And in cases where the liability of
the ship has been contested, with the consent, in writing, of a majority
of the underwriters on the hull and/or machinery (in amount), we will
also pay a like proportion of three-fourths part of the costs thereby
incurred or paid; but when both vessels are to blame, then, unless the
liability of the owners of one or both of such vessels becomes limited
by law, claims under the collision clause shall be settled on the
principle of cross liabilities as if the owners of each vessel had been
compelled to pay to the owners of the other of such vessels such
one-half or other proportion of the latter’s damages as may have been
properly allowed in ascertaining the balance or sum payable by or to the
assured in consequence of such collision; and it is further agreed that
the principles involved in this clause shall apply to the case where
both vessels are the property, in part or in whole, of the same owners,
all questions of responsibility and amount of liability as between the
two ships, being left to the decision of a single arbitrator, if the
parties can agree upon a single arbitrator, or failing such agreement,
to the decision of arbitrators, one to be appointed by the managing
owners of both vessels, and one to be appointed by the majority in
amount of underwriters interested in each vessel; the two arbitrators
chosen to choose a third arbitrator before entering upon the reference,
and the decision of such single, or of any two of such three
arbitrators, appointed as above, to be final and binding.
“This insurance also specially to cover loss of and/or damage to hull or
machinery through the negligence of master, mariners, engineers, or
pilots, or through explosions, bursting of boilers, breakage of shafts,
or through any latent defect in the machinery or hull, provided such
loss or damage has not resulted from want of due diligence by the
manager.”
By the terms of the above policy no damage under $100 could be
collected.
Another clause allowed the yacht to touch and stay at any ports or
places, and for any and all purposes.
Another clause made the liability cover the hulls, spars, sails, boats,
etc.
Yet another clause provided that a fixed sum should be returned for
every fifteen days canceled and for a like number of days laid up
dismantling, overhauling, repairing, etc. This, as the intelligent
reader will see, is to guard against an usurious interest when the yacht
is not exposed to the perils of corsairs or rovers on the deep green
sea.
The collision clause generally provides that although the yacht insured
may be in fault the underwriters must pay up to three-fourths of the
value of the policy toward the repair of the damaged vessel or the
general repairs. For example, a yacht insured for $5,000 runs into
another craft and damages her to the extent of $4,000. In that event the
underwriters are responsible to the extent of $3,750.
What is called the “racing clause” is sometimes added, which makes the
underwriters liable for total or other loss while the yacht is in the
act of racing.
A policy for $1,250 covering five months should cost no more than ten
per cent. if the yacht is in good condition. Rates vary on laying-up
policies covering risks from fire, falling over, etc., while the craft
is out of commission.
A yacht should be insured for her full value. If insured for less the
ratio which that amount bears to the true value will be deducted from
the amount given as compensation for damages. Here is an English case in
point. A man insured a boat for £200, her true value, as declared by him
to Lloyd’s agent at the time, being £250. She suffered damages in a
blow. The owner agreed to accept £25 for compensation. He was tendered
£20, the explanation being that he had undertaken a fifth part of the
risk on the craft himself, inasmuch as he had insured the boat for £50
less than her real value; also that as he had agreed upon £25 as
compensation for the damage sustained, the underwriters could only be
called upon to pay £20. An appeal to the courts resulted in a judgment
for the underwriters.
It may be mentioned that English companies do the bulk of marine
insurance, and that the law with regard to it is practically the same in
the British Islands and this country.
After mentioning all the dangers that may cause total loss, which is
fully insured against, the policy states that where only partial damage
is sustained the underwriters will pay an average for the repair of such
damage at the rate of 3 per cent.
The $100 clause is advantageous to the owner of a large yacht, for any
damage that the craft might meet with while at sea, whether in the
nature of collision, or carrying away of gear by stress of weather,
would be more likely to exceed than come within the $100 limit. With
small craft it is different. It would be a rather severe accident that
would necessitate $100 worth of repairs. Some companies, realizing the
injustice of this $100 clause, have lowered the amount to $50, but for
this a slightly increased premium is demanded. I would advise all
insurers of small boats to insist upon the $50 clause.
When taking out a policy on a sailing yacht, whether for coasting or
deep-water cruising, no stipulation is made as to the sailing-master
being provided with a license. In fact, the law does not make it
obligatory for the commander of a sailing yacht to pass any examination
whatever; but the skipper of a steam yacht, like the engineer, must pass
the regular examination and be provided with a license. The reason for
this does not seem quite clear to the layman.
The owner of a yacht, if he acts as his own skipper and engages the crew
himself, has all the autocratic power of a master in the merchant
marine. He can quell a mutiny with the pistol, clap a refractory
“shell-back” into irons, and maintain stern discipline afloat. But
happily the yachtsman is never called upon to exercise any severe
measures such as those mentioned. If, however, the occasion called for
the exercise of stringency the law would protect the yacht owner.
If a sailor is discharged for misconduct he forfeits the outfit provided
for him by the owner. Few yachtsmen, however, insist upon this, and the
discharged seaman is allowed to take his “dunnage” ashore with him, but
the outfit is legally the property of the owner.
[Illustration: [Rowboat]]
XI.
THE COST OF YACHTING.
CAUTIONARY AND ECONOMICAL HINTS TO TYROS ABOUT TO EMBARK IN THE SPORT.
In a witty essay Mr. W. L. Alden, author of “The Canoe and the Flying
Proa,” points out that the most reckless woman is vastly inferior in
wild extravagance to the ordinary yacht whose owner has enrolled her in
a yacht club. It is with yachts as it is with women, he argues. A man
who provides himself with a pretty wife, equipped with a sufficient
quantity of clothes, might keep her very cheaply if he did not permit
her to go into society, which Mr. Alden conceives is about the same as
introducing a yacht to the society of other fashionable yachts. He
declares that when the once modest schooner or bashful sloop has once
tasted the pleasures of a regatta, she proceeds to lavish her owner’s
fortune with frightful recklessness. During the racing season she splits
her sails as though they were lace flounces, and sheds topmasts and
booms as though they were hairpins. At the close of the season he has to
call in the aid of the shipbuilding profession, and to lavish upon her
costly tonics of hemp and iron and other expensive remedies prescribed
by skillful yachting specialists.
When spring returns she is not satisfied with the position of her masts;
she insists upon being provided with a new and more graceful stern and a
complete wardrobe of new sails and signals. After these are supplied she
declines to race unless her bow is lengthened ten or fifteen feet. Next,
she finds fault with her figure and wants to be given more breadth of
beam. Mr. Alden thinks that the owner of such a craft ought to have an
independent fortune, or at least be counsel for an insolvent railroad. A
yacht that squanders money like water all summer, undergoes elaborate
repairs in the fall, and is completely remodeled every spring, is
infinitely more extravagant than any woman who ever wore 32mo shoes or
microscopic gloves. Mr. Alden concludes that the only way to be a happy
yachtsman is to buy a slow and plain-looking yacht that rarely cares to
go into society and carefully shuns the giddy regatta.
There is much solid substance in the above, though at first sight it may
appear to be somewhat fantastic. Unless an owner takes a personal
interest in his yacht she is bound to prove a very costly luxury. If he
gives _carte blanche_ to every Tom, Dick and Harry that has to do with
her he will be amazed at the extent of the bills. The most expensive
luxuries in the world are said to be racing stables and theatres run for
the pleasure of rich men without business instincts. A large racing
yacht conducted on the same extravagant and reckless basis might well
hold the third place in the list.
A prudent man, before investing in a yacht, will make inquiries as to
the probable expense likely to be incurred, and will cut his coat
according to his cloth. In this he will act as a sensible man making any
other investment. Before purchasing a cottage at Newport, a person of
average intelligence calculates the cost, and decides whether it is
within his power to afford such a luxury. He doesn’t rush at it blindly
like a bull at a gate. Most of our racing yachtsmen have begun when mere
boys, generally with small craft, and have gradually worked their way
upward tentatively, as it were, until they have owned the largest type
of vessel. Take Mr. J. Rogers Maxwell, a representative yachtsman, as an
instance. He commenced his yachting career with a mere cockleshell of a
craft some fifteen feet long. He has ascended by easy stages, and knows
the cost of building and running all kinds of pleasure craft. The result
of his varied experience would be valuable indeed, for he has had a hand
in the design of every craft that has carried his private signal.
The life of the yacht owner, of course, is not all rose-colored. There
is an occasional dash of bitterness in his daily draught. It is possible
for him to hire a sailing-master who knows his business, to engage a
temperance crew, and even to secure the services of a steward who is
honest to the core. But there is ever present with him, from the morning
he goes into commission in the spring until the chilly afternoon in the
autumn when he hauls into winter quarters, the Yachting Parasite.
The yacht owner soon becomes painfully aware of the existence of this
excrescence. Whenever a camel falls down exhausted on the sands of the
desert, a vulture is sure to await him with ravenous appetite and
murderous beak and talons. So, too, wherever a yacht owner touches, he
is always sure to be beset by some flattering knave eager for an
invitation, and longing to stretch his legs under the cabin table and
partake of its hospitable fare.
This is the fellow to steer clear of, for if he once manages to get
himself domesticated he becomes like a tame cat. He will flirt with the
ladies aboard, if they are so foolish as to permit it; he will rook your
son at cards; he will call for and drink your choicest vintages, and
smoke your most fragrant weeds; and all this with an insolent air of
proprietorship galling in the extreme. The only way to rid yourself of
his presence is to burn the yacht, or to lash a couple of cannon balls
to his legs and make him walk the plank. He is above taking even a broad
hint to depart.
The Yachting Parasite has an abundant feeding ground in America. Some of
our yacht owners are marvelously susceptible to flattery. The Parasite
is wide awake to this weakness and avails himself of it. He secures a
season’s free board amid luxurious surroundings. He lives on the fat of
the land, and the yacht owner hasn’t moral courage enough to kick him
ashore. On the contrary, he seems to enjoy his sugary speeches. The
Parasite is found under every flag, our American variety being naturally
jealous of any foreign rival. Particularly objectionable to him is the
English or Irish interloper with parasitical designs on what he regards
as his own rightful prey. The successful Parasite thus lives a pleasant
life during the yachting season. He has more fun than the owner, and
neither expense nor responsibility. He sometimes is fortunate enough to
be retained in his master’s household all winter. His fawnings have
become indispensable to his patron’s comfort. A queer creature, truly,
but he is one of our recognized yachting “institutions.” Guard against
him, my brethren; never let him play the part of Old Man of the Sea to
your Sindbad the Sailor. He is too unwholesome and expensive a luxury
for you, and it is about time that he is abolished.
In times of serious financial depression, when a cold wave of economy
permeates the land, owners of large schooners need be at no loss for
substantial reasons for tardiness in fitting out.
These spacious craft are expensive to run. They are great gobblers up of
greenbacks, their voracity being incapable of appeasement. As a matter
of fact, yachtsmen fall an easy prey to land-sharks disguised as
ship-chandlers and merchants who cater to the needs of those who take
their pleasure afloat.
Monster steam vessels and unwieldy schooners soon reduce the balance at
the bank unless their owners bring to bear on the situation the same
business shrewdness that dominates their offices in Wall street, where
every little bill is audited with lynx-eyed subtleness, and the salary
list, from the cashier to the three-dollar-a-week office boy, is
scrutinized with economical care every week in the hope of cutting down
expenses by reducing the working staff.
My heart goes out to the man who cultivates yacht racing not for
ostentatious and vulgar display, but from an innate and hearty love of
the sport. If I can give him a few hints on the way of saving a dollar
or two of his modest store, I shall only be too delighted.
The carrying of large crews is obligatory in racing yachts but is by no
means requisite. In another chapter I have mentioned the small number of
men carried on the _America_ and _Sappho_ in their voyages across the
ocean. In the Atlantic race of December, 1866, in which _Henrietta_,
_Vesta_ and _Fleetwing_ took part, each yacht carried a complement of
four officers and twenty-two men. This was a large ship’s company for a
200-ton schooner, but the season was winter and the stakes $90,000, so
no risk was taken. The centerboard schooner _Montauk_, in her voyage to
the West Indies in 1884, carried a sailing-master and a crew of
thirteen. The _Athlon_, a 60-foot sloop, is worked by a skipper, two men
before the mast and a steward. Captain Henry Andruss of the _Sasqua_, a
smart 35-footer, carries only one paid hand, but then Andruss is a host
in himself and his son makes his weight felt when he tails on to the
mainsheet.
That this question is considered of importance in England is evident
from the following editorial which I transcribe from the _Yachtsman_:
“One of the best features in the early life of British yachting was that
the vessels then engaged in racing did not depend so much as in these
days on professional aid for smartness and seamanship. We may smile at
times when we read the accounts of races sailed fifty years ago, and at
the yarns of ‘the veteran’ anent ‘the good old days,’ etc.; but there
cannot be a doubt that yacht racing has since then drifted too much into
professional hands, and whilst we have learned (small credit to us) to
look for greater smartness in the handling of our racing yachts, we must
not ignore the fact that we pay for it right royally. In proportion to
the number of racing yachts now afloat there can be no doubt that good
amateur sailors are lamentably fewer than they were even twenty years
ago.
“If in the wisdom of the Y. R. A. it should be so decided that paid
hands shall be limited in number for each class, the change should be
hailed with joy, and to lessen the sorrow of the grumbler it may be
pointed out that the smallest number likely to be assigned in every case
would be far in excess of what our forefathers would have dreamed of.
The cost of crews is enormous nowadays, not only from their numbers, but
from the excessive remuneration for their services. This is a matter,
indeed, which cannot be regulated in any feasible way that we know of,
and therefore a limitation in the number of paid hands is the more
desirable. To compare the wages, or ‘salaries,’ of to-day with those of
past times, we may mention that when the old Clyde clipper _Clarence_
was in her prime (about 60 or 65 years ago) her sailing-master received
£1 per week, and her ordinary hands 18s. They had no outfits given them,
and they were grateful for a glass of grog to celebrate the winning of a
prize. This was a typical case until the early fifties, when the scale
of wages seems to have gone up. In the _Stella_ and _Cymba_ days,
sailing-masters of renown got £1 5s. per week, and the men £1, and then
outfits and prize-money first began to appear, though on a very small
scale. McKirdy, skipper of the _Cymba_, was the first sailing-master, so
far as we know, who received a yearly salary.
“Those were ‘the good old days,’ however, and in nothing have they gone
beyond recall more than in the lowness of wages. That they are now
beyond recall may easily be believed by all yacht owners, and,
therefore, these should hail with gladness any scheme likely to stop one
or two of the many leaks in their purses. Some of those leaks, however,
might well be counteracted by the clubs through the simple expedient of
increasing the amount of their prizes. To offer the 20-raters of to-day
the same sum as was offered as a prize to the 20-tonners of 1870 is
strikingly absurd.”
In general it may be remarked that it is wise to ship no more cats than
can catch mice; before making repairs to your vessel to procure
estimates; to buy your stores and provisions in the open market and
exercise judicious economy in the running of the yacht.
It should be remembered that aside from the first cost it takes very
little more to run a 30-footer than a 15-footer. In the latter you have
no accommodations whatever, while a 30-footer can be made quite a roomy
little ship if space is judiciously adapted. Three men can handle a
30-footer with ease, if the fingers of the men are not all thumbs.
Before buying a yacht see that there are no liens against her for unpaid
wages or stores. If she has been libeled in the Court of Admiralty you
will probably have to pay claim and costs. A creditor can without
trouble libel a yacht and put an officer in possession. Your only course
then to pursue, if you dispute the claim, is to give a bond for the
amount and fight the matter in the courts.
Following is the scale of wages for yacht sailors now prevailing:
Captains from $250 to $60 per month
Mates „ 100 „ 50 „
Engineers „ 175 „ 90 „
Engineers on small yachts „ 125 „ 85 „
Stewards „ 100 „ 60 „
Cooks „ 125 „ 50 „
Sailors „ 30 „ 25 „
The cost of outfits follows:
Captain $75
Mate 55
Engineer 60
Cook 50
Steward 40
Sailors, each 35
Messman 35
The expense of keeping a 40-footer depends much upon the tastes of her
owner and whether used for racing or cruising. Here, however, is an
example. It will be noted that the rates are lower, owing to the size of
the craft:
Captain $60 a month; outfit $25
Two sailors 60 „ „ 25
Cook 50 „ „ 20
Waiter 35 „ „ 18
The grub for the crew would cost 50 cents per day per man.
Hauling out three times during the season, $ 50
New mainsail 100
Racing money is paid as follows in large yachts when a victory is
scored:
Captains $25
Mates 10
Sailors 5
It is not usual in this country to pay “losing money.”
XII.
THE LAST WORD.
FINAL HINTS TO TARS WHO WANT TO SAIL THEIR OWN CRAFT.
The small cruising and racing yacht has now become so fashionable that a
vast number of recruits have joined the already large navy of yachting
amateurs. In many cases the owners of the craft new last season have
only a slight and superficial knowledge of a boat, and will depend on
their professional skippers for the navigating and general management of
her. This is as it should be.
There are, however, certain matters relating to the internal economy of
a yacht which cannot be learned from the average skipper, and this
article is devoted to their exposition and discussion. The hints given
are practical, and may possibly be of use to men just embarking in the
sport, as well as those entering upon their second season.
The owner of a small racing yacht taking part in the squadron cruise of
the New York Yacht Club, which sometimes extends as far as Bar Harbor,
Me., should take care that he carries along with him a sufficient “sea
kit” for all the emergencies of the voyage. Certain social functions at
Newport, for instance, will render evening clothes necessary, if not
indispensable, to any yachtsman desiring to participate in the social
gayeties of the Cowes of America. A “claw-hammer” coat is my pet
abomination, and personally I would never “hoodoo” a racing yacht with
any such luxurious superfluity. So strong is my antipathy to this
garment of civilization that my will contains a special clause
forbidding my undertaker to attire me for the grave in a so-called dress
suit, as is sometimes the custom in this country.
But I am no prejudiced churl, and will willingly give the benefit of my
experience to those who would not “feel at home” after sundown unless
clad in the regulation society garb. Now a dress suit to look well must
be kept free from damp, otherwise it will speedily mildew. The cabin of
a little racer is always exposed to the danger of moisture, either in
the form of rain or of spray. Sometimes a veritable “green sea” in an
unguarded moment finds its way below, and then woe to the nautical dandy
who has intrusted his shore toggery to the untender mercies of a leather
portmanteau or dress-suit case! No self-respecting girl will dance with
a young man whose evening clothes have been made unsightly by sea water,
no matter how scarce the dancing species of the genus homo may happen to
be.
To preserve “swell togs” in spick-and-span condition the wise yachtsman
will provide himself with a metal uniform case, airtight and waterproof,
such as navy and army officers use when on service in tropical climates
where humidity and cockroaches play havoc with unprotected uniforms. In
this case the nautical dude may snugly stow his dress suit and dancing
shoes, his “biled” shirts, collars, white ties, jewelry, and such other
trifles as he may see fit, including stationery, postage stamps and
whatever paper currency he may have with him. I say stationery and
stamps advisedly, having experienced the annoyance of trying to write on
paper damaged by spray and envelopes gummed up by heat and humidity. It
might, however, be well to omit the ink as an inmate of your uniform
case, as mishaps are rather more frequent afloat than ashore, and ink
stains are difficult to eradicate from collars, shirts and cuffs. This
case may be stored away in the most convenient location possible, and
its owner may rely on finding its contents in good condition, no matter
how severe the weather the little boat has encountered.
The remainder of the owner’s wardrobe may be carried in a sailor’s
painted duck bag, or, if this simple and inexpensive device is not
“swagger” enough, in an india-rubber bag, such as may be obtained of any
dealer in sportsmen’s supplies. Woolen underwear is preferable to any
other, and as it can now be had in the lightest weights, the old
objection of heaviness and too much warmth has lost its significance.
Serge and flannel clothes are best suited for ordinary wear at sea, and
flannel pajamas will also be found more serviceable and comfortable than
those of any other material. Woolen socks and blue, hand-knitted
guernseys are also to be recommended. These few hints with regard to
clothing must suffice, as every man has his own peculiar ideas as to the
rigging and adorning of his person, and is slow to adopt any other
fellow’s notions or follow advice, no matter how kindly offered.
Remember that it is not safe to put to sea without a corkscrew and a
can-opener. In fact, these tools are so indispensable when on the briny
that they should be duplicated or even triplicated. When a thirsty tar
needs a glass of grog, medicinally or as a beverage, it is very
provoking to be told that the corkscrew is mislaid. An old sea-crony of
mine used to provide against such contingencies by always carrying, made
fast to a lanyard round his neck, a sailor’s knife, whose “other blade
was a corkscrew,” so he was never at a loss to tackle a rum bottle or a
sardine can whenever the emergency arose. Shipmates! take an old
sea-dog’s advice and follow this most excellent example.
Matches should be carried in glass jars with wind and water tight
covers. These are good receptacles also for tobacco, either in plugs or
cut. Cigars, too, may be kept in them without that injury to their
fragrance inseparable from their absorption of sea-air, which has ruined
the flavor of the finest of Havanas. If these glass jars are covered
with canvas neatly sewn on, they will run no risk of breakage.
The yachtsman must use his own discretion regarding medical supplies. I
recommend essence of ginger, extract of witch hazel, absorbent cotton,
rubber sticking-plaster (which requires neither heat nor moisture for
its application) rolled up in an airtight tin box, thread and needles,
muslin bandages, a forceps for extracting splinters, vaseline, seidlitz
powders (in an airtight tin), and Horsford’s acid phosphate as among the
most pressing necessities to be taken along.
A mixture of baking soda and vaseline in equal parts is a most excellent
ointment for the cure of sunburn. I have known a landlubber’s lily-white
skin to be so scarified by the burning rays of the sun as to cause him
excruciating agony. An application of the mixture mentioned above
afforded him quick relief.
A large stowing place for ice is indispensable to health and comfort in
these latitudes. If you should, however, happen to fall short of this
necessary, it should not be forgotten that a canvas bucket filled with
fresh water and covered with cheesecloth to keep out dust and flies, if
hung up in the sun, will afford a supply of agreeably cold water. This
is an old “wrinkle,” much used in tropical climates. A porous
earthenware jar will also accomplish the same result, the effect being
produced by evaporation.
The cuisine of a small racing yacht is necessarily limited. The solution
of the cooking-stove problem has not as yet been accomplished. Gasoline
stoves are clean, convenient and efficient, but they are dangerous. Oil
stoves with wicks, on account of their odor, smoke and dirt, are
objectionable; cook and cabin are covered with lampblack. Coal stoves
generate too much heat below for true comfort in our summers. The sea
stove of the future will probably be an adaptation of the wickless oil
stove, which is as cleanly as an alcohol stove and equally free from
dirt and odor, and burns ordinary kerosene oil.
The good quality of the canned meats, vegetables and fruits, as put up
nowadays, renders a yachtsman pretty nearly independent of a galley.
With a capacious ice box, he can store supplies of cooked meats and
fowls, which, with the aid of his stock of canned goods, will keep him
going. A stove on which he can boil a kettle for coffee or tea and fry a
dish of fish or ham and eggs is all that is absolutely necessary. He
wants all the available space for his racing sails and gear, and cannot
spare room below for a Delmonico kitchen. Thus the æsthetic epicure or
even the ordinary glutton (I guess there is but little difference
between them) must make some notable gastronomical sacrifices while in
the pursuit of yacht prizes, but he can easily atone for scanty fare
afloat when he reaches the shore, where hotels with epicurean larders
are within easy distance. But, as a matter of fact, the ordinary
yachtsman will fare admirably on such “grub” as he can carry along from
port to port, and he need never be forced to seek the hospitality of a
caravansary.
Some cooks have a violent prejudice against the humble and innocuous
frying-pan. They denounce it until they are black in the face. I have
found this culinary utensil invaluable in a small vessel where an oil
stove only was possible, and the use of a broiler consequently
impracticable. Procure not the ordinary shallow pan, such as is commonly
used in kitchens ashore, but a deep pan with a tightly fitting cover and
a long handle, such as French _chefs_ affect. In this a great variety of
food can be prepared—savory stews, appetizing curries and soups. If you
heat the pan very hot before you put a steak or a chop in it (omitting
fat or butter), in flavor and tenderness you can scarcely distinguish it
from a genuine grill. My word for it, a frying-pan, intelligently used,
is a boon and a blessing aboard a small vessel. But mind and get a deep
one with a cover, as a shallow one is of little use when the boat is
pitching or rolling, or even sailing in smooth water but heeling over to
the breeze.
If you happen to get hold of a good “Jap” for a sea cook, he will be
able to boil rice correctly. Some fellows don’t like rice. The reason is
because they have never eaten it cooked to Oriental perfection, when
every grain is plump and dry and separate from its fellow. It is
different when you get a mushy abomination served up to you in lieu of a
dish pretty to look at and grateful to the palate.
I learned to cook rice when a boy plying on a schooner owned by the
Jehanum Jow Juldee Railroad, which used to connect Negapatam with
Madras. The native cook was my teacher. First he placed his measure of
rice in a deck bucket, washing it repeatedly with water fresh from the
ocean. He explained to me in his Tamil language, that unless this
process was followed the grains of rice would cling together and
coagulate and form into a porridge, loathsome to look at and worse to
taste. After washing the rice thoroughly, he placed it in a pot of
furiously boiling fresh water—no salt being added. Then he would fire up
like an infernal stoker and keep the pot in a splendid state of
ebullition. And mark you, messmates all, he never stirred the heated
mass!
After boiling for twenty minutes, he reduced the heat, strained off the
water, carefully reserving it for drinking purposes (for congee water
isn’t half bad), and then let the rice swell and dry for half an hour
under a very moderate fire. The result was RICE!
As a grateful accompaniment to this staple comestible, his custom was to
prepare a curry, often of prawns, which grow to perfection on the
Coromandel Coast. Now, far be it from me to decry the luscious
excellence of the American prawn, whose toothsome delicacy has often
tickled my palate, but in the interest of truth I must say that the
species which flourishes under the Stars and Stripes must retire into
insignificance in the matter of size, plumpness, juiciness and flavor
when compared with the prawns of Madras. Some of these attain the length
of nine inches. Parboiled in sea water, dexterously deprived of their
scaly armor, and then impaled on thin strips of bamboo, they were ready
for the deft and scientific touch of our Madrassee _chef_. In an
earthenware “chatty” he placed a sufficient quantity of “ghee,” or
native butter. When this reached the sizzling stage, he added a little
finely shred onion and a suspicion of garlic, watching the stewpan with
the kindly care of a mother until it reached the golden-brown stage.
Next, with tender solicitude, he put in the prawns and the curry and
watched the product stew in its own juice until its fragrance enticed
all hands with watering mouths to cluster round his base of operations.
About the curry? Please don’t ask me for its ingredients. I was only a
hungry boy then and didn’t know enough to investigate its component
parts. I am sure, however, that it contained chillies, turmeric, the
pulp of green cocoanut and a host of other Eastern condiments, and that
the result was gastronomic joy. To make a dish of palatable curry in a
yacht’s kitchen and in half an hour is easy. In your deep frying-pan
place a chunk of butter as big as an egg. When it melts and begins to
smoke add a large onion sliced and a tablespoonful of curry powder and
any cold meat or cold fish you may have on hand, cut up in small chunks.
Let it cook for fifteen minutes and fall to and eat!
Curry is like the true West India pepper-pot. It can be made of almost
anything. Fresh meat or fish, canned meat or vegetables, will always
taste good. All that is actually necessary in the way of condiments may
be thus summarized: Butter, onions (garlic to those who believe it to be
the violet of vegetables, always in a small quantity), red and black
pepper, curry powder and chutnee. With these ingredients a palatable
dish is always at hand. No Asian or Eurasian thickens his curry with
flour. A squeeze of lemon or lime-juice adds zest to the dish.
In concluding these culinary hints I may say that chops, ham and eggs,
may be prepared with facility in the deep frying-pan already
recommended. Let the pan be blazing hot when your ambition urges you to
serve up a sirloin steak or an English mutton chop. Put no fat in the
pan. The object is to sear up the fibre of the meat and keep in the
juices. When you think the meat is cooked put it in a hot dish, butter
it on both sides and pipe all hands to dinner.
When you fry fish, oysters or clams, place them in boiling fat and cook
rapidly. The best and freshest of fish is ruined by letting it get
soddened in lukewarm grease.
Now here is my recipe for fish chowder, and when you have once partaken
thereof you will cry like a child for more. Procure a small codfish or
haddock, while yet squirming from the hook, clean him well and parboil
him, reserving the water in which he was cooked. Remove head, tail, skin
and bone, and cut him up into moderate mouthfuls. Place an iron pot on
the galley fire. When it is hot throw in a lump of butter and six onions
sliced finely. When the fragrant odor of the onion arises throw in your
fish. Cover the pot close so that the fish may absorb all the flavor.
Then add potatoes in very small quantities and some of the broth the
fish primarily simmered in, and wait till it is cooked and then ask a
blessing and eat it. One hint and then I am done. Let each man flavor
his own dish. Don’t you as sea cook usurp a man’s rights. Provide the
usual condiments and sauces, pepper and salt, etc., but otherwise allow
the true disciple of the goddess Gastronomia to reach his goal by means
of his own.
By using a little judgment and common sense one may easily avoid the
“grub-spoiling” stage, and be able to boil a kettle of water without
burning it, and finally master the art of making a cup of drinkable
coffee, tea or chocolate, and of cooking a few simple dishes, which will
agreeably vary the monotony of canned viands, which are distasteful to
many of our _jeunesse dorée_ under any and all circumstances, sardines
alone excepted, which seem never to clog on even the most jaded palate.
Hardtack should be stored in airtight canisters, or it will soon become
“soggy” and lose its dry crispness and wholesome savor. A glazed
earthenware jar in the ice box makes a very capital receptacle for
butter.
With regard to beverages tastes will differ. Bottled beer is rather too
bulky. California wines are wholesome and moderate in price. Some of the
growths are equal to the produce of any foreign vineyard. In making out
your list of liquid stores do not omit a bottle of old brandy for
medicinal purposes, and take care to reserve it for a real emergency,
never opening it, no matter how parched your throat may be or how
plaintively your chum may cry out for a “nip.” Brandy has often saved
life, and on general principles it is unwise to divert medical stores
from their proper sphere of usage. Some racing yachtsmen quench their
thirst with ice water qualified with a drain of Scotch whiskey or
Plymouth gin. Both of these drinks are recommended by many fleet
surgeons of my acquaintance as being wholesome when taken in moderation.
But it is as hard to prescribe a man’s food or drink for him as to
induce him to follow advice on how to dress. The foregoing hints are,
therefore, given with good intent, and with no desire on my part to ram
them down my readers’ throats.
Beware, however, of the amateur “grub-spoiler.” He will play havoc with
your larder, and make you use language which your spiritual director
would highly disapprove. There is much truth in the aphorism that heaven
sends cooks and that “grub-spoilers” come from “the other place.”
With reference to remedies for seasickness I can offer only one
suggestion. Ice bags for the spine, nitrite of amyl to inhale, chloral
to take internally, are among the many nostrums recommended. Personally
I have witnessed many marvelous cures by judicious doses of dry
champagne, or, in default of this beverage, brandy and soda taken
ice-cold. Sweet champagne seems to aggravate rather than relieve the
awful nausea.
Do not fail to take a good supply of lemons and limes with you when
bound on a cruise. They are excellent for the compounding of temperance
and other beverages.
Do not fail to include in your list of necessaries a nautical almanac,
which is full of useful information. Among the subjects are the time of
sunrise and sunset, lighthouses and lightships, the moon’s phases,
compass variations, tide tables, etc. Do not leave it ashore as did the
Dutchman his anchor.
Watertight sailcovers are great safeguards against mildew, but should
not be used to cover sails already wet. Dry your sails thoroughly before
you furl them snugly. If wet, leave them in loose folds secured with a
stop or two.
If your boat is bigger than a Herreshoff thirty-footer, which has no
accommodations at all, by all means get into the wholesome habit of
sleeping aboard and thus avoid the temptations in the way of dissipation
which the shore has extended to mariners since the days of Jason and the
good ship _Argo_. Remember that a windsail judiciously set to catch
every stray breath of air, with its lower end down the forehatch or the
cabin skylight, will keep the air below sufficiently cool for comfort,
and refreshing sleep will follow as a matter of course.
It is quite the correct thing for the owner of a racing yacht to invite
a friend or two to go with him on a cruise and to accept their help in
racing the yacht in the daily runs from port to port. For the benefit of
those not well acquainted with the etiquette of yacht racing the
following suggestions may be of use:
It is well for all hands to get aboard in good time, so as to have ample
opportunity to prepare for the business of the day. I will take it for
granted that you are properly clad for the work ahead, that you have
left your frock coat and gafftopsail hat ashore, where they belong, and
that your apparel is suited for the occasion. I am no Beau Brummel, to
act as _arbiter elegantiarum_ in the matter of attire afloat or ashore,
but I have seen some queerly rigged specimens of amateur sailors in my
time, and have observed what an amazing fund of fun they furnish to the
curious onlooker surveying the scene from the outside. Gorgeous
“blazers,” silken sashes of variegated hues, acting as soul and body
lashings round the midship section and supporting trousers of spotless
white jean, with the accessories of an expensive straw hat, a “biled”
shirt, silken hose and pipeclayed deck shoes—all these may look
ornamental and captivating, but the common-sense element of utility is
lacking. Such bright plumage may be suitable for the deck of a steam
yacht with pretty girls aboard, or for the casino of a swell seaside
resort, but a simple suit of flannel and a white duck yachting cap is
the sort of garb best adapted for the work to be tackled.
For prudential reasons, in this uncertain climate a fellow should take
his “oilers” along. Even as I write I am reminded of the advisability of
this by certain unpleasant rheumatic twinges which rack my old
weather-beaten hull, and which might perhaps have been avoided if I had
kept myself drier in my youth. Let no “freshie” take an umbrella aboard,
as it is a breeder of bad luck, and if there happens to be an old
sea-dog in the craft, ten to one he will seize an early opportunity of
surreptitiously heaving it overboard—a proceeding which every
right-minded mariner will cordially approve.
Do not burden yourself with walking-cane, field-glasses or camera, no
matter how devoted you may be to the art of amateur photography. There
is a time for everything, and your special duty during the match will be
to pull and haul on ropes, to stick out to windward as far as possible
when the yacht is close-hauled, and to hop lively about the decks as
occasion requires, never heeding salt sea water coming aboard in showers
of spray from the ocean, or the drenching downpour from the open
heavens.
It will occur to you that the fancy attire to which I have alluded above
will be inappropriate to any but the calmest and sunniest weather.
Enough said! If you wish to gratify the heart of the yacht owner you
will invest in a close crop and a clean shave preparatory to reporting
aboard, and will carry nothing but a knife and a handkerchief in your
pockets, leaving your jewelry and watch and keys and other personal
bric-à-brac ashore. If you should chance to fall overboard during the
race you will not feel sorry if you availed yourself of this valuable
hint, for salt water plays the devil with the works of a timepiece, and
but few watch-cases are actually fluid-proof. Besides, every ounce of
superfluous weight militates against the speed of a craft, and “mony a
mickle makes a muckle.”
One final word to the yacht owner. Be careful of the guests you invite.
The sea frequently develops the harmless shore crank into a most
detestable nuisance afloat. When once he is aboard the law does not
permit you to heave him overboard.
[Illustration: [Yacht]]
INDEX.
Ackers, Holland, 226
Alarm, First British Warship to be Coppered, 68
Alarm, Cutter, 138
Albany, Ocean-going Sloop, 83
Alden, W. L., Quoted, 282
Aluminum as a Yacht Metal, 50 _et seq._
America, Schooner 19, 22, 38;
Lines of, 39; 7, 81, 165, 184
America’s Cup, 30
Argo, Captain Jason, 14, 17
Ark, Captain Noah, 13, 14
Arrow, Cutter, 138
Athlon, Stormy Cruise on, 91 _et seq._; 288
Bedouin, Cutter, 136
Bloodhound, Cutter, 150
Boats, Yachts’, Handling of, 269
Boatswain, Duties of, 176
Bow, Type of, 1892, 237
Britannia, Cutter, 45
Burgess, Edward, 81
Carlyle, Thomas, Good Sailor, 27 _et seq._
Center, Robert, 62
Centerboard, Discussed, 78 _et seq._;
Germ of, 84
Charles II., King, and His Yacht, 17, 18
Chronometers, Care of, 164
Clara, Cutter, 45, 64
Colonia, 136, 137
Columbus, Flagship of, 17
Cookery on Small Yachts, 297
Cooks, 188–9;
Wages of, 291
Compass, Hints on Care of, 156
Corinthian Yacht Club of New York, 37
Corsair, Steam Yacht, 22
Cranfield, Captain, 253
Crews, Selection of, 183;
Wages of, 291
Cutter, Rig of, 139
Dad, Freak, 117, 120
Defender, 52–3–4, 177, 179;
Mid-Section of, 239;
Sheer Plan of, 246
Dilemma, 83, 110
Dominion, Double-Huller, 88, 122–3–4
Dorothy, Catboat, 101, 109, 113
Double-Huller of the Pacific, 128;
Singhalese Type, 126
Dragon III., 20-Rater, 63, 75
Duggan, Herrick, Designer of Dominion, 121
Duncan, Skipper of Madge, 157
Duty and Discipline Afloat, 166 _et seq._
Ellen, Watson 20-Rater, 235
Emerald, Schooner, 132
English Cutters, Mid-Sections of, 238
Ethelwynn, 15-footer, 152, 153
Evolution 81;
Lines of, 107
Fife, William, Sr., 245
Fitting Out and Tuning Up, 130 _et seq._
Flags, Proper Use of, 265 _et seq._
Galatea, Cutter, 45, 231;
Mid-Section of, 239
Genesta, Cutter, 45, 135, 231;
Mid-Section of, 239
Ghost, 51-footer, Race of, with Phantom, 192 _et seq._
Gimcrack, Schooner, J. C. Stevens’ Flagship, 18, 23, 25, 34
Gloriana, 79, 81, 83
Goshawk, Brig, Wreck of, with Author Aboard, 76
Gossoon, 40-footer, 161, 163
Gracie, Sloop, 132, 133
Guns, Proper Use of, 262
Haff, Captain, 178
Harvey, Designer John, 64
Havens, E. B., 91
Herreshoff, Nat., 45, 54, 81, 231
Hurkaru, East Indiaman, 126
Insurance, Yachting, 272 _et seq._
Iselin, C. Oliver, 177
Jay, Captain Tom, 236
Johnson, Dr., Quoted, 27
Jubilee, Lines of, 110;
Dimensions of, 118
Jullanar, Lines of, 108;
Dimensions of, 114
Katrina, 160
Kewaydin, Knockabout, 103
Kittie, Catboat, 105
Knight, E. F., Quoted, 185
Lascar Crews, 181
Leeboard, Dutch, 84
Madge, Cutter, 45, 81–2, 159
Maria, Sloop, 18, 19, 34, 38
Mary, Yacht of Charles II., 17, 18
Mary Taylor, Pilot Boat, 185
Mates, Duties of, 172;
Wages of, 291
Maxwell, J. Rogers, 284
Mayflower, 45;
Mid-Section of, 239
Measurement Rules, American and British, 240 _et seq._
Meteor, Cutter, 45, 177
Minerva, Cutter, 45, 151, 163
Montauk, Schooner, 288
Mosquito, First English Iron Yacht, 62
Nameless, British Freak, 111, 121
Niagara, Lines of, 110;
Midship Section of, 114;
Under Sail, 115, 117
New York Yacht Club, 18, 21, 43
Noah, Captain, 13, 14
Norse Galley, 17, 20
Nyanza, First Composite Yacht, 63
Oriva, Cutter, 67
Ouananiche, 21-footer, 71, 72
Outfits, Cost of for Crew, 291
Parasites, Yachting, 285
Phantom, 51-footer, Race of, with Ghost, 192 _et seq._
Piano Wire for Rigging, 151
Postley, Commodore C. A., 136
Priscilla, 136
Proa, Flying, Described by Anson, 128
Protests, 217
Puritan, 45, 81, 136;
Mid-Section of, 239
Race Committees, Duties of, 216
Racing Money, 291
Racing Rules, 215 _et seq._
Racing Yacht, The, 47 _et seq._;
Evolution of, 225 _et seq._
Randall, F. M., Cape Catboats of, 105
Rocket, Lines of, 112, 117, 121
Rorqual, Fin Freak, 116
Rule of the Road at Sea, 215 _et seq._
Sails, Cotton and Flax, 141;
Proper Balancing of, 159–60
Salutes, Etiquette of, 263 _et seq._
Sappho, Schooner, 134, 185
Sasqua, 288
Sea Jockeying, Examples of, 157–58
Sea-lawyers, 182
Sea-sickness, Remedies for, 304
Shamrock, Sloop, 132
Skate, Freak, 118, 120
Smith, Designer A. Cary, 62
Spars, 142
Spruce IV., 154
Steel, Gaffs and Booms of, 143
Stephens, W. P., on Centerboards, 86 _et seq._
Stern, Type of, 1892 237
Stevens, J. C., 18, 19, 31
Stewards, 188–89;
Wages of, 201
Sullivan, Sir Edward, Quoted, 184
Thistle, 141, 231, 235;
Mid-Section of, 239
Titania, 160
Trojans, Yacht Races of, 16
Turnbuckles, 142, 149
Uncas, Schooner, 70–1;
Rig of, 144–45–78
Valkyrie II., Mid-Section of, 239
Valkyrie III., 45, 52, 111, 177;
Mid-Section of, 239;
Sheer Plan of, 246
Vendenesse, Aluminum Cutter, 51
Vesper, Freak, 117, 120
Vesta, Schooner, 85, 121
Victoria, Queen, Patroness of Yachting, 46
Vigil, Schooner, Rig of, 144
Vigilant, Sloop, 50;
Mid-Section of, 239
Vigilant, Revenue Cutter, 27 _et seq._
Viking Ship, 17, 20
Vindex, First American Iron Yacht, 62
Volunteer, Sloop, 136, 231;
Mid-Section of, 239
Wainwright, Lieut.-Commander, 37
Wages, 289, 291
Wanda, Herreshoff Catboat, 104, 106, 109
Watson, Designer George L., 47, 67–8, 114, 231
Wire Rope, Flexible, 142
Yacht Racing as a Sport, 13 _et seq._
Y. R. A. of Long Island Sound, 44;
of Massachusetts, 44;
of Great Britain, 230, 232
Yachts, Type of, Discussed, 78 _et seq._;
Race, Down-to-Date Described, 192 _et seq._;
Captains of, 166, 168;
Legal Status of Owners of, 280
Yachting, Etiquette of, 261 _et seq._;
Cost of, 282 _et seq._
Yachting Reporters, A Plea for, 216
------------------------------------------------------------------------
=Everyone when drinking Pommery=
=is invited to pay a little more attention than is usually bestowed upon
so pleasant an occupation, and to note the “finesse” which the house is
at such pains to secure. It will not be labor lost. The pleasure
afforded by a glass of choice champagne when one can discern all its
exquisitely delicate shades of flavor and bouquet, and perhaps even
locate them, as it were, in their very birthplaces, is a delight
undreamed of by the careless drinker.=
=In this connection it is worthy of note that in London when the
wholesale prices of Champagne are regulated solely upon quality, Pommery
sells at a much higher price than any other brand, the retail price
being, however, the same in America.=
=Pommery “Sec and Brut” is for Sale Everywhere.=
=Chas. Graef & Co.,=
=Sole Agents for the United States.=
=32 Beaver Street, New York.=
THE ONLY NAPHTHA LAUNCH
[Illustration]
Nearly 3,000 in use. The Safest, Simplest, Speediest Power Boat.
Superiority demonstrated by ten years’ experience.
STEAM AND SAIL YACHTS.
Send 10c. stamp for Catalogue.
MARINE ENGINES and “SEABURY” WATER TUBE BOILERS
Gas Engine & Power Co. and Chas. L. Seabury & Co.
Consolidated
Morris Heights,
NEW YORK CITY
[Illustration: [Yacht]]
=Nothing is more exasperating= at sea than a dead calm. A howling gale
is preferable, if your craft is a sailing vessel.
=Why not= put yourself in a position to laugh at the calm? Get the
=Gas Engine and Power Co.= and =Charles L. Seabury & Co.=
(Consolidated) to fit your yacht with a =Naphtha Motor=.
=Or, better still=, give them an order to build a down-to-date
auxiliary craft like _Alfredo_, shown in the cut—the flagship and
fleet of the Cuban navy, commanded by Johnny O’Brien, the famous
filibuster.
She is fifty feet long, has a sixteen-horse-power motor and goes nine
miles an hour under naphtha alone. She also sails like a witch, is a
splendid sea boat, and has “bully” accommodations below. Just the ideal
boat for pleasant cruising. Never becalmed with sails idly flapping.
Always sure of making port.
_Ten cents in stamps will bring you a catalogue by return mail. It will
interest you._
Gas Engine & Power Co. and Charles L. Seabury & Co.
(=Consolidated.=)
Morris Heights, N. Y. City. 50 Broadway, N. Y. City.
[Illustration: [Logo]]
Neither Salt Nor Fresh Water
Will affect our SPAR COMPOSITION. Composed of the Best Materials it is
possible to purchase, it is the most durable marine varnish known, and
will not crack, turn white or blister. It is particularly adapted for
spars of steamships, yachts or canoes, and makes a superior finish for
decks, outside doors, piazza floors, store fronts—in short, for any work
that is exposed to the weather.
OUR OTHER SPECIALTIES ARE:
No. 1 Preservative,
Waterproof Floor Finish,
Pale, Hard Oil Finish,
Liquid Pigment Filler.
Send for our ARCHITECTURAL HANDBOOK, giving prices and particulars.
The David B. Crockett Co.
BRIDGEPORT, CONN., U. S. A.
_SAMUEL SWAN, President._
_W. D. LENT, Vice-President._
_CHAS. F. TOWNER, Secretary and Treasurer._
Yachtsmen
[Illustration: [Yacht]]
Making the selection of Power for a Yacht or Launch a
=_Question of Quality_=
can decide only on the
=Daimler Motor=
We can prove this, and invite investigations and comparisons.
=MOTORS= from 1 to 50 Horse Power.
=BOATS= in all sizes and types, from a 16-ft. Tender to a 125-ft.
Yacht.
FOR CATALOGUE, ADDRESS
DAIMLER MANUFACTURING CO.,
945 Steinway Avenue, Long Island City, N. Y.
OR
169–171 Broadway, New York City.
Alfred B. Sands & Son,
Yacht Plumbers, ❧
AND MANUFACTURERS OF
Yacht Plumbing Specialties.
[Illustration: [Pump water closet]]
PUMP
WATER
CLOSETS
For above or below water line.
[Illustration: [Folding lavatory]]
FOLDING
LAVATORIES
For Yacht and Launch use.
134 Beekman Street, N. Y.
TELEPHONE CONNECTION.
Established 1840.
GEO. B. CARPENTER & CO.
[Illustration: [Yacht]]
Yacht Sailmakers
and dealers in every yachting requisite. We have all the new fabrics for
racing sails. Send 6c in stamps for our up-to-date catalogue of yacht
fittings and supplies, or 4c in stamps for catalogue of tents, etc.
Tents, Camp Furniture and Flags.
202–208 South Water Street, CHICAGO.
Boat Sailing ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧
FAIR WEATHER AND FOUL.
BY CAPTAIN A. J. KENEALY.
IN ITS THIRD EDITION, REVISED AND BROUGHT UP
TO DATE.
It is all there and stated in such a plain, practical way that anyone
can learn the tricks of wind and tide without any other teacher.
215 PAGES. FULLY ILLUSTRATED.
Price, 50 cents in limp Buckram. In cloth, $1.00.
The following subjects lead the chapters:
Preliminary Hints to an Amateur with Ambitions Toward Owning a Boat.
The Choice of a Boat.
Trial Spin in a Cat-Boat—How to Get Under Way, Beat to Windward and
Run Back, with Instructions How to Act if Caught in a Squall or
Stranded on a Shoal, and How to Avoid Collisions and Come to
Anchor.
Advantages of the Yawl-Rig for General Cruising Purposes—Disadvantages
of the Ballast Fin for All Purposes Except Racing.
The Popularity of the Knockabout as an Excellent Cruising Craft, with
Some Observations on the One-design Classes from Schooners to
Dories.
Keep Your Weather-Eye Open All the Time When Afloat—How to Handle a
Boat in Heavy Weather or a Summer Squall.
Overhauling the Yacht—Practical Instructions for Cleaning and Painting
the Craft Inside and Out, with Hints on the Care of Hull, Spars,
Canvas and Running Gear.
Fitting Out for a Cruise
Combination Rowing and Sailing Boats.
Rigging and Sails—Standing and Running Gear, and the Bending and
Setting of Canvas.
Laying Up for the Winter—Practical Suggestions for Protecting a Boat
and Her Gear from the Stress of Our Inclement Climate.
Useful Hints and Recipes.
The Rule of the Road at Sea: Being a Digest of the Present
International Regulations for Preventing Collisions.
The Mariner’s Compass, with Remarks on Deviation, Variation, Leeway,
Etc.
Charts, with Some Hints as to Navigation by Dead-reckoning.
Marlinespike Seamanship.
Weather Wrinkles from the Scientific Point of View of Professional
Meteorologists and also Jack Tar.
Nautical Terms in Common Use.
This Book given with a year’s Subscription to “Outing” for $3.50.
THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY,
239 Fifth Ave., NEW YORK.
The Yarn of the Yampa,
BY E. L’H. McGINNIS,
Is a true story of a Transatlantic Cruise of the Yacht “Yampa,” which
has since become the property of the German Emperor.
Handsomely bound in pale green cloth, gold, black and white stamping,
160 pages, illustrated profusely, $1.00.
Yacht Races for the
America’s Cup.
BY A. J. KENEALY.
“This book is highly prized and will be carefully preserved.”—_Grover
Cleveland._
“A very attractive account of international yachting.”—_London Field._
“Bright, fresh and interesting, including much in the way of anecdote
and description to enliven the plain narrative of challenges and
races.”—_Forest and Stream._
180 pages, fully illustrated. Paper, 50c. Cloth, $1.50.
College Days.
A Story of Student Life at Yale.
BY JOHN SEYMOUR WOOD
Like Tom Brown at Rugby, Harry’s Career will live on, as long as our
boys shall go to College.
429 pages, fully illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.
Saddle and Sentiment.
A Story of the Turf.
BY WENONA GILMAN.
The attention of the reader is held intact from start to finish. Lovers
of horse-flesh pronounce the descriptions of races as lacking in
nothing. The flutter of silk and the thunder of hoofs are real, and
every character introduced is faithfully drawn from life.
284 pages, elaborately illustrated. Paper, 50c. Cloth, $1.00.
Always Strong and Happy
Or, KEY TO HEALTH AND STRENGTH.
BY PROF. J. R. JUDD.
A full and comprehensive treatise on the care of the human body. 200
pages, fully illustrated. Cloth, $1.50.
THE OUTING PUBLISHING CO., 239 Fifth Ave., New York.
Outing
_THE ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE DEVOTED TO OUTDOOR LIFE._
Appeals to all who Indulge in any of the Amateur Sports and Pastimes.
=Outing= deals with all the pastimes from the gentleman sportsman’s
standpoint, and is worthy of your consideration as an interesting and
suitable publication for your library table. Every number contains, in
addition to the leading articles, a complete record of the principal
doings in the world of Amateur Sport, together with editorials by the
leading authorities, such as
ED. W. SANDYS,
WALTER CAMP,
Capt. A. J. KENEALY,
J. PARMLY PARET,
MALCOLM W. FORD,
PERCY ASHLEY,
A. H. GODFREY,
DR. NICOL,
AND OTHERS.
Every number is beautifully illustrated, and the magazine is foremost in
every respect.
_Send a Two-cent Stamp for Specimen Copy._
THE OUTING PUBLISHING CO.,
239–241 Fifth Avenue, New York.
_Just the thing for a yachting cruise._
HEALTH CIGARS?
_You can’t tell the difference between them and other cigars so far as
the taste and aroma are concerned. The poison of the nicotine is
neutralized but not extracted by the wonderful discovery of Dr. Hugo
Geroldy of the university of Halle, Germany. They won’t hurt you, no
matter how many you smoke._
_Fifty-two million sold in Europe during 1898._
_Ask your dealer for them._
_If he doesn’t keep them, we will furnish you prices upon application.
Trial box of 12 sent postpaid for $1.00._
_HEALTH TOBACCO CO.,
Fifth Avenue and 42d Street,—New York._
_Telephone 3592–38th._
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
● Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.
● Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.Project Gutenberg
Yachting wrinkles : $b A practical and historical handbook of valuable information for the racing and cruising yachtsman
Kenealy, A. J. (Ahmed John)
Chimera53
Graduate