CHAPTER XX.

Nautical Terms in Common Use, from which all

Obsolete and Antiquated Terms, such as were in use

aboard the Ark, have been eliminated 236

_Addenda_—Recent Changes of Sail Plan and Rigging

in Modern Craft 248

ILLUSTRATIONS AND DIAGRAMS.

Frontispiece. _Turning the Stake._

PAGE

Yawl in a Squall, 41

Latest Type of Fin-Keel, 49

Sail Plan of Modern Fin-Keel, 54

Seawanhaka, 21-foot Knockabout, 56

Seawanhaka Knockabout, 57

Sail Plan Seawanhaka Knockabout, 58

Drogue, or Sea Anchor, 70

Diagram of Floating Anchor, 71

Floating Anchor in Use, 72

The Boston Knockabout, _Gosling_, 75

Plan of Oil Distributor, 80

In Dry Dock, 98

Hauled Out for Painting, 98

Making Ready for a New Dress, 114

Pleasant Cat-Boat Sailing, 119

Sailing Under Varying Conditions of Wind, 128

Running Before the Wind, 130

Gybing, 131

Close Hauled on Port Tack, 132

Close Hauled on Starboard Tack, 133

Dead Beat to Windward, 134

A Long Leg and a Short Leg, 138

The Manœuvre of Tacking, 139

Whip Purchase and Traveler, 140

Jib and Mainsail Rig, 141

Sprit Rig, 143

Leg-of-Mutton Rig, 147

Cat Rig, 148

Balance Lug Rig, 150

Sliding Gunter Rig, 151

Detail of Sliding Gunter Rig, 152

Folding Centerboard, 154

Shroud, Deadeye, Lanyard, 156

Turnbuckle, 157

Topmast Rigging, 158

Rig of Running Bowsprit, 159

Horse for Main Sheet, 161

Gear for Hauling Out Loose-footed Mainsail, 166

Luncheon in the Cock-pit, 179

Scowing an Anchor, 180

"Half Raters," 184

The Compass, 193

Marlinespike, 207

Knots and Splices, 208

Cautionary Signals, 221

Storm Signals, 222

A Yachtsman's Stove, 223

The Ideal Fry-pan, 225

A Nest of Stew-Pans, 227

Ice Tub, 229

A Traveling Companion, 231

The Sloop Yacht, 246

The Cutter Yacht, 247

The Sail Plan and Rig of a Modern Schooner, 249

The Sail Plan and Rig of a Modern Yawl, 251

[Illustration: TURNING THE STAKE.]

I.

ADVICE TO AN AMATEUR.

All of us remember the old sailor's retort to the man who reproached him

for soaking his clay in bad rum. "There ain't such a thing under heaven

as _bad_ rum," he sagely remarked. "Of course some rum is better than

another, but I have been knocking about the world for more than fifty

years and never did I drink a glass of rum that deserved to be called

_bad_, and I got outside of some pretty fiery tipple in my time."

The same is true in a general way of boats. There are many types of boat

and each has some peculiar attribute to recommend it. No two craft, for

instance, could be more widely different in every way than a Gloucester

fishing dory and a Cape Cod cat-boat, yet each when properly handled has

safely ridden out an Atlantic gale. Of course if their movements had

been directed by farm hands both would have foundered. In point of fact,

there is no royal road to the acquisition of seamanship. Experience is

what is needed first, last and all the time. It is true, however, that

the rough sea over which the learner has necessarily to sail may be

smoothed for him, even as the breakers on a harbor bar are rendered

passable for a homeward-bound craft by the judicious application of a

little oil.

The choice of a boat depends upon a vast variety of circumstances, the

chief of which is the location of the prospective boat owner. If he

lives on the Great South Bay, for example, he should provide himself

with a craft of light draught, almost capable of sailing on a clover

field after a heavy fall of dew. Equipped with a centerboard and a sail

a boat of this kind, if of the right shape and construction, will be

found comfortable, safe and of moderate speed. A man may also enjoy an

infinite amount of pleasure aboard her, after he has mastered the secret

of her management. There are so many sandbars in the Great South Bay

that a boat of light draught is indispensable to successful sailing. The

same remark applies also to Barnegat Bay and adjacent New Jersey waters.

There are some persons who believe that it is impossible to combine

light draught and safety. They make a great mistake. A twelve-foot

sneakbox in Barnegat Bay, with the right man steering, will live for a

long time in rough water that would sorely try the capacity of a much

larger craft in the hands of a lubber. The same is true of a sharpie.

The man who makes up his mind that he wants a sailing boat should study

well the geography of his vicinity. If he lives in New York or on the

Sound his course is easy. He is sure to be within reach of a yacht or

boat club from whose members he can get all the information he needs.

They will tell him the boat best adapted to his requirements and his

finances, and if they persuade him to join their organization they will

be conferring upon him a favor. I have traveled a good deal among the

yacht clubs of New York, New Jersey and Connecticut, and I never came

across a more generous, more obliging and more sportsmanlike body of men

than those enrolled on the rosters of these enterprising associations.

They are convinced that there is more real pleasure to the square inch

in the possession of a stout boat capable of being managed by a couple

of men, than there is in the proprietorship of a big yacht that carries

a crew of twenty and whose owner probably knows nothing about the art of

sailing her, but depends all the time on his skipper. It is a pleasure

to meet these men and listen to their yarns. The earnestness, the zeal

and the ability with which they pursue their favorite pastime are indeed

commendable. And the best of it is they are always ready to welcome

recruits, and to pass them through the rudimentary mill of seamanship

and navigation, their motto being "Every man his own skipper." The only

requisite necessary to membership in one or more of these clubs is that

you should be a "clubable" man with manly instincts. Young fellows, too,

are eagerly sought, so you need have no compunction about seeking their

doors, the latchstrings of which are always down.

By all means join a club, I say. You get all the advantages of the house

and the anchorage, and all the benefits that accrue to association with

men who are ardent and enthusiastic in the enjoyment of their pet

diversion. Besides—let me whisper a word in your ear, my brother, you of

the slender purse or may be economic instincts—it will be cheaper for

you in the end; it will put money in your purse. Your boat will be

looked after all the year round by watchful guardians, who will see that

it isn't stripped or rifled by river pirates, and that the elements do

not mar its beauty. I confess I was surprised when I learned how little

it costs to become entitled to all the privileges of these clubs, and it

is owing to their moderate charges that the "mosquito fleet" in the

vicinity of New York is growing so big and interest in the sport is

increasing so rapidly.

What I have written of New York is true, perhaps, in a greater measure

of Boston. There is no finer sheet of water for boat sailing than Boston

Bay, and no people in the world are more devoted to the sport than those

who dwell in the city of culture and its sea-washed environs. There are

plenty of yacht clubs between Point Allerton, on the south, and

Marblehead, on the north. It has been ascertained that more than five

thousand members have joined these organizations and that nineteen

hundred yachts are enrolled on their lists, most of the craft being less

than twenty feet on the water line. It will thus be seen that Boston

fully appreciates the value of small sailing craft as a means of

amusement and healthful recreation. The port from which _Volunteer_,

_Mayflower_ and _Puritan_ originally hailed, though justly proud of

those three magnificent racing yachts, has always been distinguished for

turning out stout, able and seaworthy vessels of the smaller type, and

also for breeding a sturdy race of men who know every trick of

seamanship. The majority of the boats are so constructed and rigged as

to ensure that they will render a good account of themselves in a blow

and a seaway. Thus the "sandbagger" type of vessel is rarely found "down

east," and this, in my opinion, need not be regretted.

The catrigged boat, with stationary ballast and a centerboard, may be

said to be the type generally preferred in those waters. The Newport

cat-boat is famous the world over for her handiness, speed and ability.

I know that it is fashionable for scientific men and swell naval

architects to decry the seaworthiness of these boats. It has been urged

that the weight of the mast in the eyes of the craft is a serious

objection, a strain on the hull, and not unlikely to be carried away for

want of proper staying. The long boom also has been objected to, because

of its liability to trip. The craft has been declared difficult to steer

and a regular "yawer." But while saying unkind things of the cat-boat's

behavior in a blow, no critic, however biased, has ventured to deny her

general handiness.

I might remind these gentlemen that the owner of a pleasure boat does

not as a rule sail her in a blow or in a seaway, but this would not be a

fair or legitimate argument. The elements are treacherous. A summer

storm often plays havoc among the shipping, and a man who ventures

seaward in the morning in a balmy breeze and with the water smooth as a

horsepond may be caught in a savage blow, followed by a heavy sea, both

of which may sorely try the capabilities of his craft and his own

resources as a seaman.

I am such a devout believer, however, in a cat-boat of proper form and

rig, that I will defend her as a good and handy craft in both fair

weather and foul. It blows hard in Narragansett Bay sometimes, and I

have often known a devil of a sea to be kicked up off Brenton's Reef

lightship. But the Newport cat-boat, with a couple of reefs down, comes

out of the harbor and dances over the steep waves like a duck or a cork.

I never saw one of them come to grief, and in fact they have always

impressed me as being the handiest all-round boat afloat. I have sailed

in them in all sorts of weather, and I am not likely to alter my

opinion. Many of the objections raised against them are idle. For

instance, the mast can be so stayed as to be perfectly secure. There is

also no reason why the boom should project so far over the stern as to

trip, and in this connection I should like to ask of what use is a

topping lift unless one avails himself of it in just such an emergency?

A man should always keep the boom well topped up when running before the

wind in a seaway, and by this means he may avoid much trouble and

possibly peril.

The above remarks are applicable to both salt water and fresh water, to

the yachts of the North, the South, as well as of the Great and Little

Lakes, and indeed wherever the glorious sport flourishes. In point of

fact, all the hints and directions given in these chapters may be

followed with profit on the Pacific Coast as well as on the Atlantic

Seaboard, on Lake Michigan or on the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

II.

THE CHOICE OF A BOAT.

If any ambitious would-be mariner, old or young, hailing from anywhere

were to ask me what sort of a boat I would recommend him to build or

buy, I would answer him frankly that an able cat-boat, with a

centerboard and stationary ballast would, in my judgment, be best. I

would advise him to shun the "sandbaggers"—not that one cannot enjoy an

immense amount of exciting sport in one of them, but because they seem

to me to be only fit for racing, and I will tell you why. A man when he

goes on a quiet cruise doesn't want to be bothered by having to shift

heavy bags of sand every time the boat goes about. It is too much like

hard work, and by the time your day's fun is finished you feel stiff in

the joints. I have other arguments against the use of shifting ballast,

but do not think any other save the one mentioned is necessary.

This point disposed of, let us confer. Of what shall the stationary

ballast for our able cat-boat consist? Outside lead is of course the

best, but its first cost is a serious matter. A cast-iron false keel or

shoe answers admirably, and is moderate in price. Some persons object to

it, claiming that it rusts and corrodes; that its fastenings decay the

wooden keel to which it is bolted, and that its weight strains a boat

and soon causes her to become leaky. There is of course some truth in

these charges; but if the boat is built by a mechanic and not an

impostor, none of these disadvantages will exist, and the cast-iron keel

will prove to be both efficient and economical.

But if, by straining a point, lead can be afforded, procure it by all

means and have it bolted on outside. It neither tarnishes nor corrodes,

and as it does not deteriorate, its marketable value is always the same.

Racing yachts have, however, been known to sell for less than their lead

ballast cost, but such instances are rare. It should be borne in mind

that the lower down the lead is placed the less the quantity required,

and the greater its efficiency.

There are always a number of second-hand cat-boats in the market for

sale at a reasonable rate, and an advertisement will bring plenty of

replies. But for a tyro to purchase a boat haphazard is a mistake on

general principles. It is like a sailor buying a horse. Get some honest

shipwright or boat builder to examine, say, some half-dozen boats whose

dimensions suit you, and whose prices are about what you think you can

afford. There are certain portions of a cat-boat that are subject to

violent strains when the craft is under way. The step of the mast and

the centerboard trunk are parts that require the vigilant eye of an

expert.

Human nature is prone to temptation, and paint and putty are used quite

often to conceal many important defects in a craft advertised for sale.

The keen eye of a mechanic who has served his time to a boat-builder

will soon detect all deficiencies of this kind, will ferret out rotten

timbers, and under his advice and counsel you may succeed in picking up

at a bargain some sound, seaworthy and serviceable craft in which you

can enjoy yourself to your heart's content.

But if some rotten hull is foisted on you by an unscrupulous person you

will be apt to "kick yourself round the block," for she will be always

in need of repairs, and in the end, when she is finally condemned, you

will find on figuring up the cost that it would have been money in your

pocket if you had built a new boat.

The principal boat-builders of New York, New Jersey, Connecticut and

Massachusetts are men of high character, who take a pride in their work

(which is thoroughly first-class), and whose prices are strictly

moderate. Any one of these will construct a capital boat of good model

and fair speed. I am an old crank and a bigot in many things

appertaining to boats and the sea, but I hope that any reader of this

who is going to build a pleasure craft will follow my advice at least in

this instance: Let her be copper-fastened above and below the

water-line. Don't use a single galvanized nail or bolt in her

construction. See that the fastenings are clenched on a roove—not simply

turned down. Don't spoil the ship for a paltry ha'porth of tar. Many

builders, for the sake of economy, use galvanized iron throughout, and

will take a solemn affidavit that it is quite as good as copper. But in

the innermost cockles of their hearts they know they are wrong. Others

more conscientious use copper fastenings below the water-line and

galvanized iron above; but copper throughout is my cry, and so will I

ever maintain while I am on this side of the Styx.

Sometimes one may pick up a good serviceable boat at a Navy Yard sale.

Uncle Sam's boats are of fair design and well built. They are often

condemned because they are what is called "nail sick," a defect which

can be easily remedied. Occasionally a steamship's life-boat can be

bought for a trifle, and if it be fitted with a false keel with an iron

shoe on it, will prove thoroughly seaworthy and a moderately good

sailer.

Mr. E. F. Knight, the English barrister and author of the "Cruise of the

_Falcon_," tells how he bought a life-boat condemned by the Peninsular

and Oriental Company. She was thirty feet long with a beam of eight

feet, very strong, being built of double skins of teak, and, like all

the life-boats used by that company, an excellent sea boat. This craft

he timbered and decked, rigged her as a ketch, and crossed the North Sea

in her, going as far as Copenhagen and back, and encountering plenty of

bad weather during the adventurous voyage. Mr. Knight is a believer in

the pointed or life-boat stern for a small vessel. He was caught in a

northwest gale, in the Gulf of Heligoland, in the above-mentioned craft,

and had to sail sixty miles before a high and dangerous sea. His boat

showed no tendency to broach to, "but rushed straight ahead across the

steep sea in a fashion that gave us confidence and astonished us. Had

she had the ordinary yacht's stern to present to those following masses

of water, instead of a graceful wedge offering little resistance, we

should have had a very uncomfortable time of it. Many men dislike a

pointed stern and consider it ugly. However that may be it behaves

handsomely, and we should certainly recommend any amateur building a

sailing boat for coasting purposes to give her the life-boat stern."

Mr. Knight fitted his boat with lee boards, which no doubt served their

purpose admirably. I should, however, favor a false keel and an iron

shoe as being more efficient and less unsightly. I should not advise the

purchaser of a condemned life-boat to have her fitted with a

centerboard. The cost would be high, and unless the job was done in a

first-class manner by a man experienced at this sort of work it would be

very unsatisfactory.

A "nail-sick," clencher-built boat should be hauled up on the beach and

filled with water. Every leak should be marked on the outside with chalk

or white paint. After all the leaks have been discovered, run the water

out of her and dry her thoroughly. Next examine every nail and try the

lands or joinings of the planks with the blade of a very thin knife. Any

rivets which have worked loose must be taken out and replaced with nails

and rooves of a larger size. Through the chief parts of the bottom it

may be necessary to put an additional nail between every two originally

driven. Many of the old nails which are only a little slack should be

hardened at their clench by a few taps from inside, one hand holding a

"dollie" against the head of the nail on the outside. Melt a pound of

pitch in a gallon of boiling North Carolina tar and give her bottom a

good coat inside, filling the lands or ledges well. The garboard strake

fastenings and also those of the hooded ends should be carefully

caulked. So should the seams. The seams of the planking should also be

caulked.

There are various methods of making a boat unsinkable. Cork is sometimes

used, but it takes up too much room and is not so buoyant as air. Copper

or zinc cases, made to fit under the thwarts and in various odd corners,

have been fitted in boats, but their cost is high. Amateurs have used

powder flasks and cracker cans, with their covers soldered on, cigar

boxes, covered with duck and painted, bladders inflated with air, etc.,

etc. A boat displacing one ton will take about forty cubic feet of air

to make her unsinkable.

III.

TRIAL SPIN IN A CAT-BOAT.

Before getting a cat-boat under way from an anchorage, or casting adrift

from moorings, the captain should see all gear clear, that the

centerboard works easily in its trunk, and that oars, rowlocks and a

baler are aboard. An oar is very handy for turning a boat's head round

in a light air when she has barely steerage way on; and in case you are

confronted with a flat calm, a pair of oars are indispensable for

working homeward. A boat-hook, too, should not be neglected. There is a

story that I heard in the forecastle, of a mean old Dutch skipper who

left his new anchor ashore on purely economic grounds. He was afraid it

might rust, I suppose. The result of this thrifty dodge was the loss of

his vessel on the Goodwin Sands. My counsel to the young boat-skipper is

to see that his anchor is snugly stowed away forward, and that his

chain—if his cable is of chain—is properly shackled to the ring of the

anchor, and that the inner end of the cable is fast to the heel of the

mast by a lashing that can be cut if it is necessary to slip at any

time. If the cable is of rope, take care that it is not made fast to the

ring with a slippery hitch. Anchors cost money, and a bend that will not

come adrift is quite simple to make.

Cast the tyers off the mainsail and hoist it, pulling up best on the

throat halyards and then "swigging" on the peak till the after-leech is

taut and the sail begins to wrinkle slightly at the throat. While you

are setting the sail, let the sheet fly. Next coil down the throat and

peak halyards clear for running, and see that the mainsheet is free from

kinks and coiled so that it can be eased off at a moment's notice

without any danger of jamming in the block. A kink in the mainsheet has

capsized many a cat-boat. Before you reeve a new mainsheet, stretch it

well and take all the kinks out of it. Take care that the running parts

of all sheets and halyards are coiled uppermost, with the ends

underneath.

Let us suppose that there is a nice breeze blowing and that your

intention is to essay a four or five mile beat to windward, and then

conclude your trial trip with a run home. Cast adrift from your moorings

or get your anchor aboard, as the case may be, and start out on

whichever tack is convenient. When on the starboard tack the boom is

over to port, and _vice versa_. Lower the centerboard and fill away on

the boat with one hand on the tiller and the other holding the

mainsheet, which should never be belayed, but may be held by half a turn

round the cleat.

Do not make the mistake of trimming in the sheet too flat, but let the

boom off till it is well on the quarter and keep the sail well full, not

allowing it to shiver. This is called steering "full-and-by," which

signifies as close to the wind as possible with the sail not shaking. If

your boat is well balanced—that is, if her weights are well adjusted and

her sail of proper cut—she will carry quite a little weather helm. So

much so that if you allow the rudder to come amidships or on a line with

the keel she will fly up in the wind and her sails will shake. This is

by no means a fault unless it is carried to excess, and it may be said,

indeed, that there is something radically wrong with a craft that

requires lee helm—a defect that should be remedied at once.

The young sailor should bear in mind that to accomplish the best results

in beating to windward the sail should always be kept full. Nothing is

gained by sailing a boat right in the wind's eye with the sail

shivering. The boat then points higher but she goes to leeward like a

crab. Instances have been known of a fore-and-aft racing yacht sailing

within three points of the wind, but these are rare, indeed. The

ordinary cat-boat will not often do better than pointing up within four

points of the breeze, and her best windward work is generally thus

accomplished. There are occasions, indeed, when what is known as a

"fisherman's luff" may be indulged in with profit, such as when rounding

a mark or shooting up to an anchorage where there is little room. The

maneuver consists in luffing the boat up into the wind so that the sails

shake, and she shoots dead to windward by her own momentum. If the boat

is a heavy one she will shoot quite a distance. Care must be taken to

put the helm up and fill on her before she loses way, or she will get

"in irons" and acquire sternway, or perhaps pay off on the other tack.

If a boat acquires sternway the helm must be shifted at once. The rudder

will now produce the reverse effect to what it would if the boat were

going ahead. Putting the tiller to starboard turns the vessel's head to

port, and _vice versa_ in the case of sternway.

The beginner will find that his boat spins along quite merrily and obeys

the slightest touch of the tiller. He should not relax his vigilance in

the least, but should keep his weather eye skinned for sudden gusts of

wind or catspaws which may be seen ruffling the water to windward, in

timely season before they strike the boat. As the little craft begins to

heel or list over to the pressure, luff up a little so that the

fore-leech of the sail begins to shiver. If there is not weight enough

in the puff to put the lee rail under, sail her along with just the

suspicion of a shake in the luff of the sail, so that if she goes over

far enough for the water to threaten to come over the lee coamings and

deluge the cockpit you can put your helm down and luff up until the boat

comes nearly head to wind, at the same time lowering away your sail and

making preparations for taking in a reef.

If you are a novice, and the water is neither too rough nor too deep and

the breeze seems likely to last, and you think your craft is not up to

carrying a whole mainsail, there is no reason why you should not drop

anchor and reef your sail in leisurely and comfortable fashion. If you

feel at all nervous take in a couple of reefs.

After sail has been shortened set the mainsail, hoist up the anchor

again and thresh her at it. You will observe that she inclines less to

the puffs under the pressure of the reduced sail, and that the lee

gunwale is always well clear of the water. Watch the boat well; look out

for coming squalls, and be prepared to ease off the sheet and luff up

instantly should occasion arise. If there are other boats in company

with you tacking toward the same point you must remember that those on

the starboard tack have the right of way, and thus when you are on the

port tack you must keep clear of them. I would not advise a novice in a

boat on the port tack to try and cross the bow of a boat on the

starboard tack unless there is plenty of room. Distances on the water

are deceptive to the tyro, and it is well to run no risk of collision.

If the boat on the port tack will not keep away for you when you are on

the starboard tack, and seems to be making for you with the intention of

running you down, keep cool. Stand by to put your helm hard down so as

to luff right up in the wind or even to go about. If you put your helm

up and keep away, and a collision ensues, you would probably have to pay

all the damage. The strict legal rule is that the vessel on the

starboard tack must keep her course and neither luff nor bear up. If

this rule is observed you will be within the letter of the law. In yacht

racing a yacht on the port tack can be disqualified if she is struck by

a yacht which is on the starboard tack, no matter how the striking

happened; if she herself strikes a yacht which is on the starboard tack;

if she causes a yacht which is on the starboard tack to bear away to

avoid a collision. It is apparent, therefore, that no wise helmsman will

run any risks. If he is on the port tack he will give way with a good

grace and try to look pleasant. It is better than a collision, which is

sure in a brisk breeze to do a lot of damage, and may possibly cause

serious personal injuries or even loss of life.

The beginner may, after threshing to windward for an hour or so, begin

to feel homesick. Let him then put his helm up, easing the mainsheet off

at the same time until he gets the boom at a right angle with the mast

and the boat dead before the wind. He will at this time have to pay

particular attention to the steering, giving the boat "small helm" and

giving it to her quickly in order to keep her steady on her course.

Steering a cat-boat in a stiff breeze and lumpy water requires both

skill and experience. I should counsel a green hand to lower the peak of

the mainsail and run her under easy sail until he acquires the art. In

that case, should he accidentally gybe the boom over, the result is not

likely to be particularly disastrous; whereas, if the sail were peaked

up, the boom might snap in two or the boat herself might broach to.

The centerboard should be hoisted up into the trunk when running before

the wind, and the boom should be kept well topped up. In some small

cat-boats there is no topping lift and the sail has only one halyard,

which hoists both the throat and peak. This is a faulty rig. Throat and

peak halyards should be separate, and a topping lift should always be

fitted.

I think it my duty to warn the inexperienced boat sailer against gybing

his little craft. It is a maneuver that requires skill and care,

especially in a brisk breeze. If you must gybe, lower the peak so as to

"scandalize" the sail, and haul the boom well aboard as the helm is put

up. As the wind shifts from dead astern and comes on the other quarter,

carrying the boom over, ease off the sheet handsomely and take care to

meet her promptly with the helm as she flies to, which is invariably the

case. You can then hoist the peak up again.

If you have women and children aboard the boat, gybing should never be

resorted to if the wind is strong. It is far preferable to luff up into

the wind and tack and then keep off again.

In coming to anchor or picking up moorings make the boat describe a good

sweep, so that she may come up in the wind and lose her way exactly

where you wish. You can then either let go the anchor or pick up the

moorings, as the case may be. Then lower the sail, furl it snugly, put

on the sail cover, stow away everything neatly, haul taut the halyards

and the mainsheet, which you should coil up, and leave everything tidy

and in readiness for getting under way next time.

When, on a wind with a light breeze and in smooth water, it becomes

necessary to heave to to let a boat come alongside, haul the mainsheet

flat aft and haul the fore and jib sheets a-weather. If in a fresh

breeze, flatten in the mainsheet, let the jib sheet flow, and haul the

fore sheet a-weather.

For small open boats the anchor should weigh one pound for every foot of

length up to twenty feet length. If the boat is ballasted, another half

pound per foot should be added.

If you have the misfortune to get stuck fast in the mud or on a sand

bank, you must act quickly. If you ground while running before the wind,

lower your sails at once. If you have a dinghy, run out your kedge

anchor, with a line fast to it, astern into deep water and try to haul

off. Work the helm to and fro. Run from side to side so as to loosen the

boat from her muddy bed. If the tide is rising and your kedge does not

drag, you will be sure to get off.

If you run aground while close-hauled, let go the mainsheet, put the

helm hard over and try to back her off with the jib, at the same time

using a boathook or oar to try to shove her into deep water. If you have

any passengers, concentrate all their weight as far aft as possible.

Send out a kedge, and let all hands clap to on the line. If the tide is

on the ebb, you may probably have to wait till high water. Now comes a

ticklish crisis. If your craft is beamy, with full bilges, she will take

the ground and lie easily as the water recedes. If, on the other hand,

your little ship is of the deep and narrow kind and is not provided with

"legs," you will have to improvise something in that direction to

prevent her from careening on her side. "Legs" are not fashionable on

this side of the Atlantic. They are props of wood shod with iron, one

end of which rests on the bottom, while the other fits under the

channels, or is lashed to a shroud. If you have no other spar available,

unbend the head of the mainsail from the gaff. Stick it in the mud jaws

downward close to the rigging and lash it firmly to a shroud. List the

boat over to the side the gaff is out by guying over the boom and

putting any extra weight you happen to have on the same side. The boat

will then take the ground in safety.

IV.

THE YAWL RIG.

Though I recommend the catboat as a general craft for knocking about and

having a good time in, I am not blind to the advantages of the yawl rig.

In fact, the bold young seaman contemplating long cruises and sometimes

venturing out of sight of land will find that the yawl rig possesses no

mean merit. For single-handed cruising its worth has long been

recognized. The sails are so divided that they are small and easy to

handle, but this division of sail inevitably decreases the speed and

also the weatherly qualities of the boat. If we take a catboat and

change her into a yawl rig she will not be nearly so fast, nor will she

point so close to the wind. There are fathoms of scientific reasons for

this with which I will not bother my readers. Suffice it to say that it

has been demonstrated practically over and over again.

But although the yawl-rigged sailing boat of the smallest type has at

least three sails—foresail, mainsail and mizzen—yet the last named,

after once being set, practically takes care of itself. The mainsail,

too, is quite easily handled, the whole sail being in the body of the

boat. The foresail sometimes gives a little annoyance in taking it in,

if the boat is pitching her nose under in a steep sea. This, however, is

unavoidable. Headsails on all sailing vessels, big or little, have never

been conducive to dry skins under certain conditions of wind and sea.

The yawl is always under control, and in this attribute lies her chief

charm. When a squall is bearing down all one has to do is to lower the

mainsail and pass a tyer or two round it to keep it muzzled. When the

gust strikes the boat she is under easy sail and is not likely to come

to grief. If the squall is of exceptional strength, ease off the

foresheet and keep the sail shaking a little until you have felt the

full strength of the wind. Act then as judgment may dictate. If the blow

is very heavy and seems likely to last it may be necessary to take in

the foresail and the mizzen, and close reef the mainsail.

If you are sailing with the wind a-beam and a squall smites you it may

not be necessary to lower the mainsail at all. Ease the sheet right off

so as to spill the wind, and you will pass safely through the ordeal

without parting a rope yarn.

In getting under way or in working up to anchorage in a crowded harbor

or roadstead the yawl rig is one of the handiest known, for by having

the mainsail furled the speed of the boat is reduced so that you can

pick your way among the craft without danger of collision or striking

flaws. So many famous cruises have been made in small yawl-rigged craft

that there can be no doubt about their adaptability for such work, and

to the man anxious for more ambitious achievement than merely sailing in

rivers, bays and sheltered harbors, I most certainly would recommend the

rig.

Despite the yawl's certain safety for single handed cruising, I am not

in favor of sailing by myself. I prefer a congenial companion to share

whatever pleasure or peril may be encountered. Of course one must

exercise some wise discrimination in the choice of a cruising companion;

for when once at sea there is no way of ridding yourself of an

objectionable mate except throwing him overboard, which would not be

exactly fair to him. Besides, he might throw you overboard, which would

be bad for you. There are, however, hundreds of good yachtsmen and

boatmen who have made long voyages alone and have written charming

accounts of their nautical expeditions. John McGregor's "Voyage Alone in

the Yawl Rob Roy" and E. Middleton's "Cruise of the Kate" (also a yawl)

are two entertaining books of sea travel which I heartily recommend to

those who contemplate sailing by themselves.

While I am in favor of a catboat for general purposes in the

neighborhood of New York, yet when long distance trips are to be made

the yawl rig will, on the whole, be found preferable.

That keen sportsman, Mr. W. H. H. Murray, is a firm believer in the yawl

rig for cruising. In OUTING for May, 1891, there appeared a most

valuable article from his facile pen entitled "How I sail _Champlain_."

The _Champlain_ is of sharpie model, thirty feet on the water-line. She

is of remarkably strong construction, her oaken keel being sixteen by

twenty inches amidships and tapering properly fore and aft. Through this

keel is sunk a mortise four inches wide and sixteen feet long, through

which the centerboard works. This "fin" is of oak planking thick enough

to easily enter the case when hoisted, but leaving little space between

it and the case when in use. The centerboard is sixteen feet long, four

feet deep forward and seven feet aft, and it has fifteen hundred pounds

of iron for ballast. Mr. Murray says: "When the centerboard is lowered

this mass of metal is eight feet below her water-line, and guarantees a

stability adequate to resist any pressure which the wind can put upon

her sails and the sails withstand. Of course I am speaking with the

supposition that the boat receives, when under stress, judicious

management."

The centerboard, which weighs two thousand pounds, is lifted by a

"differential hoist," by means of which "the helmsman, with one hand on

the tiller, can, if need occurs, with the other easily run the heavy

board rapidly up into the case. The value of this adjustment can only be

appreciated by a cruising yachtsman. It places him in perfect control of

his craft under all conditions of varying depth of water and difficult

weather. In a heavy seaway; in rapidly shoaling water on an unknown

coast; when suddenly compelled to beat up against a swiftly flowing

tide; or when finding himself unexpectedly near a reef, unobserved

through carelessness or not plainly charted—this hoist is simply

priceless. It is not over expensive, and can easily be adjusted to any

yacht."

[Illustration: YAWL IN A SQUALL]

The cockpit is roomy, and, because of its high coamings, is also deep.

The cabin is sixteen feet long, the forward half being permanently

roofed. The after-half of the cabin is constructed, as to its roof, in

equal divisions. The forward-half is tracked, and the after-half is

grooved to run upon it. Mr. Murray finds this arrangement most

convenient, as it gives to the yacht such coolness and comfort as cannot

be obtained in a cabin permanently roofed. The whole roof is so fitted

to the coamings that it can be quickly and easily removed and stowed,

leaving the yacht to be sailed as an open one, decked from stem to

midship section. This arrangement is an admirable one for harbor sailing

in bright weather or for racing.

Regarding the handiness of _Champlain_ Mr. Murray says: "All yachtsmen

know what a disagreeable job it is to reef a sloop or cat-boat in rough

water, and from this cause many skippers will delay reefing as long as

possible and often until too late. And because of this many accidents

happen yearly. In this respect the yawl rig shows to the greatest

advantage and commends itself to all sensible yachtsmen. For when the

moment has come to reef, if the boat is running free her head is brought

up to the wind, the mizzen and jib sheets trimmed in, and with the main

boom well inboard the pennants are lashed and the reef points tied down,

when she is let off again and goes bowling along on her former course.

In _Champlain_ the three reef cringles on the leech of the mainsail are

all within easy reach from the cockpit, and the skipper, without leaving

the tiller, can lash the pennants, and hence, with only one assistant,

the three reefs can successively, if need be, be tied down. Indeed, so

well do the jib and mizzen sail work in unison, that unless the wind is

very puffy and variable, the helm can be lashed and she will hold her

course steadily onward while the skipper is tying down the after reef

points. It is a matter of pleasant surprise to one not accustomed to

this rig how easily and rapidly a reef in most trying conditions can be

taken in the mainsail of a yawl whose sails are well balanced.

"Moreover, unless the squall is a very heavy one, a yawl can be eased

through it without reefing at all. For when the wind comes roaring down

and the white line of froth and spray is right upon you, the boat can be

brought up to the wind and the mainsheet eased handsomely out, and with

jib and mizzen drawing finely and the mainboom off to leeward the wind

whistles harmlessly between the masts, while the yacht, only slightly

disturbed in her balance, sails steadily along. Or, if the squall is a

heavy one and there is no time to reef down before it strikes, the yacht

can be luffed up, the mainsail let down at a run, and with the belly of

the sail held within the lazy-lines the yacht is under safe conditions.

But ordinarily it is better to reef or even tie down the mainsail

snugly, and as in a yawl it can be done rapidly and easily there is no

reason why it should not be done and everything be kept shipshape.

"In cruising I often sailed _Champlain_ under jib and mizzen alone, with

the mainsail stowed and the boom crutched and tied snugly down

amidships, especially in the night time when it was very dark and the

weather foul. Under this scant canvas with a favorable wind she would

sail along at a very fair rate of speed and even make good progress in

beating up against quite a sea, and I need not say that it adds greatly

to the pleasure of cruising in a small yacht with only one man for your

crew to feel that you have your boat in a condition of perfect control.

It is evident that with no other rig can this condition to the same

degree be obtained or such a sense of absolute security be enjoyed.

"To an amateur nothing is more trying than coming to or getting away

from moorings, especially if the wind is blowing strongly and the

anchorage ground is crowded with other yachts, not to speak of vessels

of commerce, bateaux, tugs and ferryboats. Under such circumstances it

is no easy matter for any, save an expert, to work a sloop or cat-boat

or schooner safety out through the crowded harbor or basin to the open

water beyond; and it is all the more trying to a skipper if there is a

strong tide running at the moment. But with a yawl the difficulties of

the situation are almost wholly removed. For with mainsail unlashed he

can hoist his anchor or cast off from moorings, and under his two small

sails work his boat out slowly and safely from the jammed basin or

crowded space within the breakwater. He must be a tyro indeed who cannot

safely manage a yawl under the worst possible conditions of this sort.

"In cruising, if the weather is threatening it is well to carry a single

reef in the mainsail until it clears up, for a yawl works well under

such a sail with jib and mizzen furled. In such trim the yacht is as a

cat-boat with a small sail, and as her main boom is shorter than a

cat-boat's or a sloop's she can be worked in a very heavy sea with her

boom's end well above the rollers. And I know of nothing more trying to

a skipper than to sail his craft with his boom's end half the time under

water. In such a condition the spars, rigging and boat are under a

stress and strain which every prudent skipper dreads and seeks to avoid,

and it speaks volumes in favor of the yawl rig to say that with it such

a trying condition can never arise. Indeed a yawl under a double-reefed

mainsail alone is in perfect trim for scudding. If well modeled she will

neither yaw nor thrash the water with her boom's end, but career along

almost with the speed of the wind itself. For her canvas is low down, as

it should be, and her boom carried well above the seething water. In

this shape, moreover, she can lay a course with the wind well over her

quarter without strain, and it must be a very hard blow and rough water

indeed to give anxiety to any on board of her."

That the _Champlain_ is a capital sea-boat is beyond question. Her owner

thus describes a run on the lower St. Lawrence in returning from a

cruise to the Saguenay: "We passed Baie St. Paul in the evening, whirled

along by a rising gale blowing directly up the river. The night was

pitchy dark, the tide running fiercely on the ebb at the rate of five

miles an hour at the least. The water was very wild, as one can easily

imagine. Stemming such a current it would not do to shorten sail if one

wished to pass Cape Tourmente and get into quiet water, the Isle of

Orleans and the north shore, so we let every sail stand, cleated the

sheets tightly and let her drive. How she did tear onward! The froth and

spume lay deep on her pathways and after-deck. The waves crested

fiercely, rolling against the current, and the black water broke into

phosphor as we slashed through it. I do not recall that I ever saw a

yacht forced along more savagely. How the water roared under the ledges

and along the rough shores of Tourmente! And I was profoundly grateful

when we were able to bear off to starboard and run into the still water

back of Orleans. Perhaps that midnight cup of coffee did not taste well!

Its heat ran through my chilled veins like Chartreuse. I can taste it

yet!"

The ordinary jib-and-mainsail rigged boat, as seen in the waters round

New York, might easily be improved upon. In the first place, the

majority of them are too much after the skimming-dish pattern to suit my

fancy. Then the mast is stepped as a rule too far forward for the best

work, and renders reefing difficult, as she will not "lay to"

comfortably under her headsail, whereas if the mast of a boat is stepped

well aft, cutter fashion, the boat will lay to quite well, and reefing

the mainsail is easy. The American sloop rig is open to the same

criticism, and that is why the English way of rigging a single-sticker

has been adopted in all our new racing craft. To my mind there is

nothing more hideous than a "bobbed" jib. It renders good windward work

impossible, as it causes a boat to sag off to leeward and is in other

ways a detriment. A small boat with the mast stepped in the right place

and carrying a jib and a mainsail is, however, a very satisfactory

craft, good at beating to windward as well as reaching or running. I

should advise that a "spit-fire" or storm jib be carried along whenever

a sail of any distance is contemplated, and also a gaff-headed trysail,

so that the adventurous skipper may be always prepared for storm and

stress of weather. This extra "muslin" takes up little room when

properly rolled up.

The simplest and safest rig in the world is the leg-of-mutton sail. It

is the one fitted exactly for river work, where one is sure to encounter

puffs of some force as ravines are reached or valleys passed. To

amateurs it is the sail _par excellence_ for experimenting with, for no

matter how many blunders are made a mishap is well nigh impossible. The

leg-of-mutton sail has no gaff, nor need it have a boom. There is little

or no leverage aloft, and all the power for mischief it has can be taken

out of it by slacking off the sheet and spilling the wind. The learner

might with advantage practice with a sail of this shape until he becomes

proficient. If he eventually determines upon a jib and mainsail or yawl

rig for permanent use, he may avoid wasting it by having it made over

into a storm trysail.

I would strongly advise every amateur skipper to shun the ballast-fin

device as he would shun cold poison or a contagious disease. That is

unless he intends to go in for a regular racing career, in which case

the cups carried off might possibly compensate him for the woe, the

anguish and the premature gray hairs inseparable from this contrivance.

Mind you these remarks of mine apply only to amateurs and not to

grizzled sailing-masters of yachts who fully understand how to navigate

and handle all types of pleasure craft. Theoretically the ballast-fin

has many obvious advantages.

[Illustration: TYPE OF FIN-KEEL.]

The fin consists of a plate of iron or steel to the base of which is

affixed a bulb of lead, which, being in the best possible place, insures

stability. The fin proper gives lateral resistance in an almost perfect

form, for there is no deadwood either forward or aft and the least

possible amount of wetted surface. I remember when a little boy in a

fishing village on the bank of a land-locked arm of the sea, where the

water was always smooth, how we youngsters came to appreciate fully the

worth of an improvised ballast-fin. We used to enjoy the diversion of

model yacht sailing and the delights of many regattas. I owned one of

the smartest models in the village. She was rigged as a cutter with

outside lead, self-steering gear and all the latest maritime

improvements, and she generally came out a winner. I tell you I used to

put on a great many airs on this account, and as a natural result was

duly hated and envied by my playmates, who owned more or less tubby

craft that could scarcely get out of their own way.

But the day arrived when my pride was destined to have a fall. A shrewd

youth of Scottish extraction came to our village for the summer with his

father. He had the keenest, greenest eye you ever saw, and one of those

money-making noses that are unmistakable. His whole physiognomy and form

indicated shrewdness. He mingled with us for some time on the beach,

mudlarked with the boys and watched our model yacht matches with

undisguised interest. We all got the notion that he was an inland

landlubber, though it is only fair to him to acknowledge that he never

told us so in so many words.

One Saturday afternoon, after my little cutter had surpassed herself by

distancing all her opponents, I indulged in some unusually tall talk,

and challenged each and every one of my rivals to a race across the

"creek," as the sheet of water was called, offering to give them four

minutes' start, the distance being half a mile.

To my surprise, our green-eyed friend came along and accepted the

challenge, saying that on the following Saturday he would produce a

craft that would knock spots out of my cutter without any time allowance

whatever, and without the aid of a longer hull or larger sailspread. He

also remarked that he had a month's pocket money saved up, and was

willing to wager it on the result. I accepted his offer without

superfluous parleying, and in my mind's eye was already investing that

pocket money of his in various little treasures for which I hankered.

But, for all that, I made every preparation for the fray, using very

fine sandpaper and pot lead till my boat's bottom was beautifully

burnished, and seeing that her sails and gear were in tip top racing

condition. All the boys wondered what sort of a craft my opponent would

bring out. He had never been seen with a boat of any description. We

laughed in our sleeves and whispered it about that he would probably

produce one of those showy vessels that one sees in the city toy store,

and that generally sail on their beam ends.

The hour for the race arrived. The boys were all excited and flocked to

the water's edge, whence the start was to be made. There was a goodly

throng of them present, and, notwithstanding their contempt for the

Scotchman, it was no doubt the desire of their hearts that some of my

overweening conceit should be taken down a couple of pegs or so.

Presently my rival appeared on the scene, carrying in his arms the

queerest looking craft any of us had ever seen. Her hull was shaped like

an Indian birch bark canoe, except that to the rounded bottom a keel was

fastened. A groove was made in the keel, in which an oblong piece of

slate was placed, to the bottom of which a strip of lead was secured.

The rig was that of a cutter, and I noticed that her sails were well

cut. She looked quite business-like, and when she was measured we found

she was two inches shorter than my cutter.

There was a nice, fresh westerly wind blowing, and quite a lop of a sea

running for diminutive craft such as were about to race. I had already

deemed it prudent to take in a reef in the mainsail of my vessel, and

set a No. 2 jib, but my Scotch friend said he thought his boat would

carry whole sail without any trouble. The course was south, so the craft

had to sail with the wind a-beam. The start was made, my boat being to

windward, as I had won the toss. And that was all I did win. The

"ballast-fin" craft beat my cutter so badly that even at this distance

of time my ears tingle and I feel ashamed. While my boat was burying

herself, her rival took the curling wavelets right buoyantly, standing

up to her work valiantly, and moving two feet to the cutter's one. We

accompanied the model yachts in row-boats, keeping well to leeward, but

quite close enough to observe their movements accurately. That was my

first experience of the ballast-fin. We all became converts, and shoal,

round-bottomed craft, with slate fins to give stability and lateral

resistance, were thenceforward the fashion. My successful rival, we

afterward discovered, was the son of a naval architect of repute, and he

is now practising his father's profession with a good deal of success.

Thus I have not a word to say against the ballast-fin so far as racing

is concerned, but in cruising the average man who sails for pleasure

wants a craft that he can haul out of the water easily to scrub, clean

and paint. Now, if you put a ballast-fin boat on the mud for any one or

all of these purposes she requires a "leg" on each side to keep her

upright, and also supports at the bow and stern to prevent her from

turning head over heels. The stationary fin always represents your true

draught of water. It is always with you and is an integral portion of

the boat's hull. If you happen to get stuck on a shoal—and this is a

contingency that has occurred frequently to the most skillful and

careful navigator—in thick weather for instance, your lot is by no means

to be envied. This is particularly true if the tide is falling fast. The

boat would go over on her side as soon as the water got low enough. The

crew and passengers might have to wait aboard until high water, and a

precious uncomfortable time they would pass I am certain. When the flood

tide made it might be a moot question whether the boat would float or

fill with water.

The movable centerplate will always let you know when you get on a

shoal, and will in nearly all cases give you warning in time to avoid

grounding, which is always an unpleasant predicament and one entailing

much labor. Then, again, the anchorages at which small boats can safely

lie are generally pretty shallow at low water and the ballast-fin is

found to be mighty inconvenient for such places.

[Illustration: SAIL PLAN OF FIN-KEEL.]

V.

THE KNOCKABOUT CLASSES.

The knockabouts, which had their origin in Boston, have much to

recommend them. They are free from freakiness. None of them at this time

of writing have been fitted with fin-keels to harass their skippers when

they come in contact with the ground. They have a moderate sail area,

and thus are under control at all times. In a blow one is as safe aboard

one of these craft as a converted Chinaman under the lee of his fair

Sunday-school teacher at church-time. The variety in vogue in Boston in

1897 was limited to 500 square feet of sail. All were keel boats, 21

feet being the limit of length on the load water-line.

This class gained popularity from the intrinsic excellence of the boats

themselves, combining capital cruising qualities with fair speed and

good accommodations. Several designers competed, the restrictions

governing their construction, dimensions, and sail area being such that

the boats were very even in speed, and the contests in which they took

part were keen, close, and exciting.

[Illustration: SEAWANHAKA 21-FOOT KNOCKABOUT.]

The type of knockabout chosen for the season of 1898 by the Seawanhaka

Corinthian Yacht Club and the Westchester Country Club has proved to be

quite admirably adapted for cruising and racing. They were designed and

built by Mr. W. B. Stearns, of Marblehead, their dimensions being:

Length over all, 33 feet; on the load water-line, 21 feet; beam, 7 feet

8 inches; draught, 4 feet; with board down, 7 feet. The area of the

mainsail and jib contains 550 square feet. The centerboard is a small

one of iron, and houses below the cabin floor. The trunk cabin is 8 feet

long, with 5 feet head-room. The price of these boats was $750 complete,

and, their construction being sound and strong, they will, if taken care

of properly, be good for many years.

It is impossible to speak in terms too high of this class after a

surfeit of the racing machines and freaks like the 20-footers whose

alarming antics so often amused and amazed us whenever they happened to

meet in a reefing breeze. Another good property they possess is that

they look like boats when hauled up on the beach, and can never be

mistaken when their masts are unstepped for pig-troughs or fish floats.

There is no doubt of the seaworthiness of these craft. They are

perfectly safe in a northwest squall off Sandy Hook or in a dirty

easterly gale on Long Island Sound.

[Illustration: SEAWANHAKA KNOCKABOUT.]

Another craft of this type which was deservedly popular last year is of

larger size than the one described above. She is 25 feet on the load

water-line, 38 feet over all, with a beam of 8 feet 6 inches, and 5 feet

draught with centerboard up. The boat, which was designed by Mr. B. B.

Crowninshield, of Boston, has a commodious cabin with six feet

head-room, a seven-foot cockpit, and 800 square feet of duck in mainsail

and jib. A very able and roomy boat nearly twice as costly as the

Stearns craft, but indeed quite a little ship.

[Illustration:

SAIL-PLAN OF SEAWANHAKA KNOCKABOUT—550 SQUARE FEET.

]

Personally I favor a short bowsprit in a knockabout, it being convenient

for hoisting the anchor, keeping it clear of the hull, and preventing

unseemly dents from the flukes.

I fear that knockabouts, or raceabouts, even in restricted classes, are

destined eventually to be fitted with fin-keels. As a speed-inducing

factor the fin has fully demonstrated its capacity since the first

edition of this little book appeared. I have not, however, altered my

opinion one iota since my remarks on the ballast-fin made in the chapter

which precedes this. In my judgment the fin is admirably adapted as an

adjunct to a racing machine, but for cruising craft I like it not. Brand

me as an old fogy, if you will; half a century behind the times, if it

so pleases you, shipmates, but give me credit for sincerity.

The keen sense of rivalry inherent in every American will not permit him

to be content with a good, honest sailing boat for cruising purposes

only. If one of his chums comes out with a faster craft, whether a

fin-keel or a modification thereof, he will become dissatisfied with his

own boat, no matter how seaworthy and comfortable she may be, and will

promptly discard her for a new-fangled design in which speed is the

principal characteristic. The so-called restricted classes, which are so

popular just now, are, I think, sure in the end to become purely racing

classes, something after the fashion of the Herreshoff 30-footers now so

fashionable in Newport. As racing boats, none afford more sport than

these wonderfully smart flyers, and I can well understand what

fascinating toys they have proved to their owners. But, after all, they

are only toys, vastly expensive, too, with no accommodations for

cruising and apt to be uncomfortably wet in a breeze.

The one-design classes of small yachts are not confined to knockabouts

only. Cruising schooners, designed by Cary Smith, made their appearance

in 1898, and the class, from a modest beginning, seems likely to grow.

The features of the boats are their sound and wholesome characteristics.

They possess moderate draught, large accommodations, and strength of

construction. They are 64 feet 2 inches over all, 46 feet long on the

load water-line, 16 feet beam, draught without board 6 feet 6 inches,

least freeboard 3 feet. A rather low cabin trunk gives full head-room

for the greater part of the yacht's length, the main saloon being more

than 13 feet long with a floor width of 6 feet 9 inches. On each side

are two berths and two sofas with drawers beneath. There is

accommodation in the forecastle for four men. The yachts carry 20,000

pounds of lead ballast, of which 18,000 pounds is on keel. Another

one-design division is the Riverside Yacht Club dory class, which has

been adopted by many of the clubs enrolled in the Yacht-Racing Union of

Long Island Sound. These boats are thirteen feet on the keel, seventeen

feet over all, with four feet beam, fitted with a centerboard and rigged

with a small jib and a leg-of-mutton sail. They are for single-handed

racing, but for pleasure cruising or fishing a man can take his chum

along. Fully equipped with oars, sails, etc., they cost about forty

dollars, and afford capital sport on fine afternoons. To encourage this

little class, prizes worth winning are offered by the club, and

sweepstake races are popular features.

The idea was probably taken from the Nahant Dory Club, organized in

1894, which did much to encourage sport in this serviceable and

inexpensive class. Spectators will find amusement in watching "green

hands" in their maiden efforts at sailing these dories, as strange and

startling results often follow the rash experiments of an adventurous

tyro. But apart from the comic element, valuable lessons in yacht-racing

may be learned by steering and manœuvring a dory against a fleet of

half-a-dozen eager competitors. Thus, yachtsmen cannot help approving

this new Riverside venture, originated, I believe, by Mr. F. Bowne

Jones, of the Regatta Committee.

The origin of the one-design class was Dublin Bay, where the "Water Wag"

type was first evolved. A Norwegian praam with a boiler-plate

centerboard, combining ballast and lateral resistance, and carrying a

big sail, was built in 1878 at Shankhill. She was christened

_Cemiostama_ and proved an ideal boat. The conditions were a sloping

sandy shore on which the high surf not infrequently broke, and from

which the craft had to be launched every time her owner wanted a sail,

and onto which she had to be beached after the cruise was finished.

_Cemiostama_ was a capital sea-boat; she pointed well, hit what she

aimed at, did not sag off to leeward, and was quite fast. When the

centerboard, weighing about one hundred pounds, was raised she ran up

easily on the beach, resting quietly on her flat bottom. Her centerboard

was then lifted out, and her crew of two hauled her up.

The knowing Irish yachtsmen, appreciating a good thing, saw that there

was a lot of fun in a boat of this class, and several were built, and

many scrub races were indulged in. In 1887 the Water Wag Association was

started, the craft being built on the same lines and the sail-area being

limited. Their dimensions were thirteen feet in length, with a beam of

four feet ten inches, full lines and a flat floor.

The Water Wags are presided over by a king and a queen, bishop, knights

and rooks; and although the boats were at first used principally for

pleasure, they are now racers pure and simple. Their headquarters are

now in Kingstown Harbor, and prizes are put up for them at all the local

regattas. They are very handy, too, and quite admirable for the purpose

for which they were designed. They cost from $75 to $100, and the rules

that govern their races provide that they shall be similar in every

respect except sail-plan. The mast must not exceed thirteen feet over

all, measured from top of keel to truck; the fore and aft sails must not

exceed seventy-five square feet in area, and the spinnaker (which is to

be used only before the wind and never as a jib) must not exceed sixty

square feet.

Each boat shall carry no less than two or more than three persons in a

race, all of whom shall be amateurs. A member or a lady may steer. No

prize shall be awarded a boat for a sail-over, but she may fly a winning

flag therefor. A pair of oars and a life-buoy must be carried in every

race. It is only right to mention that these sailing regulations are

vigorously enforced.

The latest one-design class established by our rollicking Irish cousins

is known as the 25-footers of the Dublin Bay Sailing Club. These craft

are of such noteworthy type as to deserve a few lines of description and

approval here, especially as it was wisely decided that the type shall

not be altered for five years from January 1, 1898. The boats, of which

quite a number were built and raced, are deep-keeled cutters of the

following dimensions: Length over all, 37 feet 3 inches; length on load

water-line, 25 feet; beam, 8 feet 8 inches; draught, 6 feet 3 inches;

lead on keel, 3 tons 5 cwt., and sail area, 845 square feet, divided

into a mainsail laced to the boom, gafftopsail, foresail and jib. A

second jib, jibtopsail, balloon foresail, spinnaker, storm jib and

trysail may also be carried. The design, made by Will Fife, Jr., of

Fairlie, is handsome, the type being eminently adapted for Dublin Bay.

Restrictions of the strictest kind ensure the boats being exactly alike

in size, material, construction and canvas.

The "Mermaids," a craft much used by the B division of the same club,

are large Water Wags, 18 feet long, with 6 feet beam, fitted with

centerboards, but carrying no ballast, and limited when racing to 180

square feet of sail. These are vastly popular, and a dozen or so race

every Saturday afternoon during the season.

Although one-design racing originated on the other side of the Atlantic,

it is questionable if any one class has been sailed with more spirit or

persistency than were the Herreshoff 30-footers at Newport during the

yachting season of 1897 and since.

That the classes are destined to prosper there is no doubt, the only

condition being that the type must be carefully adapted to the location

for which it is intended, and the more it is available for fishing

excursions and pleasure trips the greater favor will attend it. Another

helpful feature is the substantial economic gain from the construction

of several boats by the same builder from the same design.

VI.

KEEP YOUR WEATHER EYE OPEN.

The sailer of a boat, little or big, should keep his weather eye open

all the time. When sailing in a river where the banks are of irregular

height he should be especially on his guard, because puffs of

considerable violence frequently come with little or no warning. A few

inches of sheet eased off, and a gentle luff not quite sufficient to

spill the sail, will generally prevent the shipping of water over the

lee gunwale, and a possible capsize. Thus the mainsheet should never be

made fast permanently, and should always be coiled so as to be clear for

running. A neglect of either of these precautions has often been

attended with fatal results. If by any mischance the mainsheet becomes

jammed do not hesitate, but cut it. A sharp knife in such an emergency

has often saved life when an upset has seemed inevitable through the

boat being nearly on her beam ends. If you are sailing in a jib and

mainsail craft, and the squall has a good deal of weight in it, let fly

the jib sheet and let the boat come up in the wind, at the same time

lowering away the mainsail and taking care to spill it as it comes down.

A reef should then be taken in, and the boat be filled away on her

course.

While sailing anywhere in the vicinity of New York, and when one of

those heavy thunder-squalls that are so frequent in the summer time is

seen rising in the northwest, waste no time. If not in too deep water,

anchor at once and stow your sails snugly. You can then ride out the

fury of the squall in perfect safety; that is, if your ground tackle is

sufficiently strong. If your cable parts and you are on a lee shore and

there is a harbor to run for, scud for it under bare poles or with a

fragment of sail set. If there is no refuge under your lee, set as much

sail as your boat can safely carry and thresh her off shore. The chances

are that you will be successful, because these squalls while often very

dangerous seldom last long, and are generally followed by a flat calm

which is more exasperating than a blow.

We will take it for granted, however, that your anchor and chain are of

the correct strength and quality, and that you bring up before the

squall strikes you. If you have time it would be well to close-reef your

mainsail before furling it, and then you would be prepared for any

emergency. But let me impress upon all who are in charge of boats with

women and children aboard, that it is their duty, when one of those

peril-fraught thunder-squalls is seen approaching, to dowse every stitch

of sail at once and let go the anchor. There is a wide gulf between

bravado and bravery, and no truly courageous man would imperil the lives

of anyone, especially of helpless women and children. The rash carrying

on of canvas has been responsible for more loss of life on the water

than any other cause. It is a seaman who shortens sail in time, but a

lubber who "cracks on till all's blue."

Great caution is necessary when passing under the lee of a vessel at

anchor or under way, especially in a fresh breeze. Your boat is sure to

get becalmed and may possibly nearly lose her way, so that as she draws

clear of the object the full force of the breeze will strike her when

she has scarcely steerage way on. The result may be a complete knockdown

or even a capsize. Therefore have your mainsheet clear for running, and

do not hesitate to let it fly in a hurry before your little vessel's

gunwale is anywhere near the water. By all means endeavor to keep clear

of vessels at anchor. Do not try to get in the wash of steamboats, as

some foolhardy persons do, "just for fun." On the contrary take special

pains to avoid them. When you must encounter their wash, which in the

case of large and fast steamers is heavy and dangerous, do your best to

let your boat take the brunt of the waves on the bluff of the bow. If

they strike her broadside on, swamping is a possibility not far remote.

In sailing a boat in rough water the greatest precaution is necessary. A

craft that in smooth water could safely carry all sail, might when the

sea is perturbed be forced to stagger along under double reefs, the

force of the wind being the same in both instances. Especially is this

the case when the wind and sea are both abeam, the former strong and the

latter heavy. This is probably the most dangerous point of sailing there

is, and requires the most careful touch of the tiller. A boat heeled

over to fifteen degrees by the force of the wind, by the joint influence

of a sudden puff and a heavy roll to leeward may be inclined to such an

angle that a capsize is inevitable. When there seems to be any danger of

this mishap occurring the helmsman must not close his eyes to keep them

warm. When he sees a larger wave than usual coming along he should put

his helm up a little, so that it may strike the boat abaft the beam and

so reduce the danger to a minimum. The judicious application of weather

helm in a beam sea has saved many a big ship's deck from being swept,

and many a small boat from being capsized.

It is in my judgment rash to sail a small boat under these conditions

unless it is imperative, such as when a harbor is being entered, or when

the boat's course must necessarily be steered with wind and sea abeam. I

should strongly advise the hauling of the boat on a wind until she

reaches the point where her sheets may be eased off and she can be

headed for her destination with wind and sea on the quarter. A boat with

any pretensions at all can be sailed close-hauled in rough water with

safety if certain elementary precautions are observed. Everybody on

board except the helmsman should sit amidships in the bottom of the

boat, so as to keep the weight as low as possible and the craft herself

in her natural trim. No unusual weight is wanted in the bow of the

vessel, which should lift in a prompt and lively manner to each sea. In

an open boat and a nasty sea no more sail should be carried than will

keep her under proper command.

A great deal depends upon the nerve and skill of the man at the tiller.

Keep her moving all the time. If a big wave threatens to come aboard

over the weather bow, luff smartly into it and meet it as nearly end on

as possible. Then up with the helm at once and fill on her again,

repeating the process as often as it may be needful. Never let the lee

gunwale get under water in a seaway, nor at any other time, but always

luff before it is too late, and help her to come up in the wind if

necessary by easing away the jib sheet.

If the wind keeps increasing and the sea rising, haul down the headsail

and pass a gasket round it, close-reef your mainsail, previously seeing

your sea anchor clear for letting go. If you have no sea anchor with

you, rig some sort of a raft with oars, boathook and sails, the latter

lashed securely to the spars. Make a line fast to this raft and pay out

about twenty fathoms and let the boat ride to it as to an anchor. It is

surprising what a good effect this contrivance has in breaking the waves

and keeping the boat head to sea. Nothing else can now be done until the

gale moderates sufficiently for sail to be made and the boat headed for

her destination. It may be consolatory to those aboard a craft in such a

contingency to buoy themselves up by remembering that some of the

heaviest gales known have been safely ridden out in cockleshell boats

without any damage to crew, hull or gear.

[Illustration: DROGUE, OR SEA ANCHOR.]

The sea anchor consists of a hinge-jointed galvanized ring about three

feet in diameter. A conical bag made of stout canvas is sewed to the

ring and roped, as shown in sketch. A bridle is fitted to the ring, to

which the riding hawser is bent. A cork buoy prevents the anchor from

diving. When thrown overboard the mouth of the anchor opens and fills.

To hoist the anchor on board, the tripping line, shown in diagram, is

hauled on. When not in use the ring is folded together by the joints,

and the bag is made fast snugly round it.

[Illustration:

DIAGRAM OF FLOATING ANCHOR.

]

Another plan for making a floating anchor is shown below. K, M, N, O,

are the ends of two iron bars formed into a cross and connected by a

stout bolt, nut and pin at their intersection, S. At each end of the

bars is an eye through which a strong rope is rove, hauled taut, and

well secured. Thus a square is formed, and over the square a piece of

strong canvas is laced to the roping. Four ropes are made fast to the

iron bars, forming a bridle. To this the riding hawser is made fast. To

prevent the anchor from sinking, a buoy, B, is made fast to one corner

by a rope, with five or six fathoms of drift. The buoy rope, P, leads on

board. H is the hawser to which the boat is riding, A is the anchor, and

B the buoy. To get the anchor aboard haul in on the line, P. This will

cause the anchor to cant edgewise, and it can then be easily hauled in.

[Illustration: FLOATING ANCHOR IN USE.]

In scudding before a strong wind and a heavy sea in a small craft, a

trysail is always preferable to a sail with a boom, which may effect

much mischief by trailing in the water or suddenly gybing. The helmsman

must be always on the alert to prevent the boat from "broaching to,"

which means flying up in the wind; or from being "brought by the lee,"

which means running off so as to bring the wind on the other quarter. A

long, narrow boat will always run before the wind better than a short,

beamy craft, as she is better adapted for taking the seas, and she also

steers easier, not yawing about so much or turning round every few

minutes to take a look at her wake. The inexperienced boat sailer should

bear in mind that scudding in a seaway is ticklish work, and is not

unlikely to be attended with peril. If you have no trysail, reef the

mainsail and lower the peak. Hoist on the weather topping lift so as to

keep the boom as high as possible out of the water. By no means run a

boat before the wind until it blows too hard and the sea is too high to

heave to with safety. If the breeze seems likely to pipe up, make up

your mind immediately. Delay is dangerous. Have your sea anchor ready.

Watch for a smooth. When it comes put your helm down smartly, trimming

in the mainsheet. When she gets the wind on the bow, heave your sea

anchor overboard and ride to it either with the mainsail set or lowered,

as may be deemed best.

If you happen to be on a lee shore, with the surf breaking high on the

beach, and you cannot claw off, do not wait until it is too late and

your boat is in the breakers. Let go the anchor, and if it holds try to

ride out the storm. If your ground tackle gives way, do your best to set

the mainsail and steer boldly for the shore. The faster you go the

better chance you have to be carried high and dry. Remember that this

will give you a fighting chance for your life, whereas if your boat gets

broadside on in the breakers she will most likely roll over and over and

in all probability drown you and your crew.

It may be thought preposterous for me to advocate the use of oil to

break the force of curling wave-crests when a small craft is riding to a

raft or sea anchor. Most people would naturally suppose that a boat

could not carry enough oil aboard her for it to have any beneficial

effect in smoothing a turbulent sea. Nor could it if it was poured into

the ocean out of its original package, or out of "bags with small holes

punctured in their bottoms," as some marine experts advise. The proper

way to apply oil is to fill a round bottomed canvas bag, about two feet

long and eight inches in diameter, three parts full of oakum or cotton

waste. Do not pack too tightly. Pour into this as much fish or animal

oil as the oakum or waste will suck up. Sew the mouth up tightly with

palm and needle. Secure a lanyard to it. Make a few holes in its sides

with a marlinespike and hang it over the lee bow, and you will be

surprised at the result. The seas, instead of breaking over the boat and

threatening to swamp her, will become comparatively smooth as soon as

they approach the limits of the film of the oil as it oozes slowly out

of the bag. When running over a harbor bar where the sea is breaking

badly, a couple of these bags suspended from either bow will prevent the

waves from pooping the little craft and help her materially in her

struggle for existence. Mineral oil will do if no other is available,

and a gallon of it will go a long way if used in the manner mentioned

above. These bags should be carried all ready for use when cruising, so

that all you will have to do is to pour the oil in, sew up the mouths

and hang them over the bows by the lanyards. A ship's boat with a dozen

men aboard once safely weathered an Atlantic gale by riding to a couple

of buckets and a cork fender saturated with kerosene. Pouring oil on

troubled waters is by no means a case of bluff or the dream of an opium

smoker, but a capital "wrinkle" by means of which many a good man has

been saved from Davy Jones' yawning locker. I trust that these little

bags will form part of the outfit of all going on long cruises. They may

serve as pillows or may be made in the shape of cushions, so long as the

above general idea is followed.

[Illustration: THE BOSTON KNOCKABOUT "GOSLING."]

As a striking instance of the value of oil in a heavy gale I will quote

the case of the British ship _Slivemore_, which took fire in June, 1885,

while in the Indian Ocean about eight hundred miles northeastward of the

Seychelle Islands. The ship was abandoned and the boats steered for the

islands. Capt. Conly, of the _Slivemore_, gave orders that each boat

should take aboard two cans of paint oil for use in bad weather, and he

also instructed the officer in command of each boat in the use of the

oil. Three days after the ship was left the boats encountered a cyclone.

Drags made from spars, oars and sails lashed together were rigged, and

to these improvised sea anchors the frail craft rode securely. Stockings

filled with oakum saturated with the oil were hung over the bows of the

boats and formed an oil-slick of considerable expanse. Before the

stockings were hung out the boats narrowly escaped being swamped and the

men had to bail hard with buckets. The oil prevented the seas from

breaking and the boats rode over the enormous waves in safety. Little

water was shipped, and those on board the boats were able to lie down

and sleep while a tropical cyclone was raging furiously. All the boats

reached the islands in safety without the loss of a man, but had it not

been for the oil the loss of the _Slivemore_ would have remained an

untold mystery of the ocean.

A still more wonderful example of the efficacy of oil is told by the

captain of the ship _Martha Cobb_, and it relates to the achievement of

a sixteen-foot dinghy. In December, 1886, the _Martha Cobb_, petroleum

laden, encountered a heavy gale in the North Atlantic. She shipped some

tremendous seas which swept away all her large boats, washed away her

bulwarks and played havoc generally with her decks. The only boat that

was left uninjured was the aforesaid sixteen-foot dinghy, intended

solely for smooth water work.

While laboring and plunging in the mountainous sea, the _Martha Cobb_

fell in with a sinking vessel flying signals of distress to the effect

that the water was fast gaining on her and that all her boats were stove

in. The captain of the _Martha Cobb_ determined to stand by the vessel

in distress, in the hope that the gale would abate. He knew that his

little cockleshell of a dinghy could not possibly live in such weather,

and that it would be suicidal to lower her and attempt a rescue.

After standing by till near nightfall with no prospect of the storm

moderating, the commander of the _Martha Cobb_ determined to make an

effort to save the crew of the fast foundering craft. The _Martha

Cobb's_ petroleum was in casks, some of which leaked. The captain had

noticed that when the pumps were being worked the sea in the wake of his

ship was always much smoother. He got the _Martha Cobb_ to windward of

the wreck and started the pumps, in the hope that the oil in the well

and bilges would create a smooth when it reached the sea, so that the

dinghy could be lowered in safety.

He found, however, that the ships drifted faster than the oil, so that

while the sea to windward was comparatively smooth the water to leeward

was rough as ever. So he kept his ship away, ran down under the vessel's

stern and luffed up under her lee. Then he started the pumps and also

allowed a five-gallon can of fish oil to trickle into the water through

the scuppers. The effect was almost miraculous. In less than

half-an-hour the crested surges and breaking combers were converted into

long heavy swells such as you see when a calm has succeeded a heavy

gale.

The little dinghy was lowered, and manned by three men was pulled to

windward alongside the wreck with little difficulty. All hands were

rescued, and the tiny boat, while engaged in the gallant work, shipped

no water. All this time the waves were breaking furiously outside the

magic limit of the oil-slick.

One more illustration and I am done. Capt. Amlot, of the steamer

_Barrowmore_, on January twenty-fourth, 1885, while in 51 degrees north

latitude and 21 degrees west longitude, fell in with the sinking ship

_Kirkwood_. This ship had for part of her cargo several hundred casks of

canned salmon. In order to make a smooth and allow the boat of the

_Barrowmore_ to come alongside in safety, the crew of the _Kirkwood_

broached a number of the cases, and opening the cans poured the oil from

them into the sea. This had the desired result, and although the sea was

very heavy the oil reduced it rapidly, and the boat of the _Barrowmore_

had no difficulty in taking off the twenty-six men that composed the

ship's company of the _Kirkwood_.

Two quarts of oil used per hour will produce effective results. A ship

scudding before the wind, with a mountainous sea running and threatening

to poop her, has expended this amount and kept dry. Experts have

calculated that this quantity of oil has covered the sea with an

infinitesimal film measuring thirty feet in width and ten nautical miles

in length. As the thickness of this film is only .0000047 of an inch,

its efficacy is indeed marvelous.

A simple and excellent device for distributing oil has been invented by

Capt. Townsend, of the United States Signal Office. It is cheap and

convenient, and is especially adapted for use in boats or small yachts.

It has been thus described:

"It consists of a hollow metal globe ten inches in diameter, with a

capacity of about one and a-half gallons of oil. It has an air chamber

separated by a partition to keep it afloat in a certain position, and

there are two valves. When filled with oil the upper valve is adjusted

to allow oil to flow out at any desired rate, while the lower valve

admits water. When placed in the sea it floats with the upper valve a

little above the surface, and water will enter to displace the oil from

the graduated upper valve. The specific gravity of oil will keep it in

the upper part of the distributor, and the motion of the globe on the

breaking waves or swell will insure the ejection of the oil through the

graduated valve in any quantity."

[Illustration: OIL DISTRIBUTOR.]

This may be used by towing over the bow when running, or made fast to a

sea anchor when hove to.

People inclined to be skeptical are, of course, at liberty to doubt the

efficacy of oil to lessen the dangerous effect of heavy seas, but the

examples I have quoted are simply a few culled from several hundred well

authenticated cases.

[Illustration: PLAN OF OIL DISTRIBUTOR.]

The lesson learned from the Shipwash lightship ever so many years ago,

has not been without profit and benefit to naval architects. Let me spin

you the yarn. The Shipwash lightship is moored in one of the most

exposed places on the east coast of England, and is thus continually

encountering particularly heavy seas. It came to pass that the old

lightship was replaced by a new and scientific vessel. The new-fangled

craft was, however, so remarkably unsteady and rolled so heavily that to

the storm-tossed mariner beating up the coast her light appeared to be

of crescent shape. Her crew got scared. They were afraid she would turn

turtle. A surveyor from the Trinity House was sent aboard, and he made a

report which was submitted to her designer, who eventually said the

fault complained of could be easily remedied by the addition of extra

ballast. Accordingly this was done, and the next gale she rode out her

rolling was worse than ever, and produced quite a panic among her crew,

who were afraid to go below while the storm lasted. Another report was

made to headquarters. Other students of naval architecture were

consulted, who not only advised that the extra ballast be taken out, but

that four tons of lead be attached to the frame or cage supporting the

light. These instructions were carried out, and the result was the

steadiest lightship on the east coast.

A vessel will carry herself full of coal and behave herself in heavy

weather. But when she comes to be laden with copper ore or lead, a

certain amount of ingenuity has to be used in the storage of such heavy

cargo to make her seaworthy at all. If it were all stowed in the bottom

of the vessel she would roll so heavily in a seaway as to get dismasted,

and would probably become a total wreck. It is now that the experienced

art of the stevedore comes in. The man who follows the proper

authorities would construct a bin or compartment in which to stow this

dangerous freight thus:

[Illustration: Fig. 1]

The result would be highly satisfactory. The vessel's center of gravity

would be the same as though she were laden with coal, and her movements

in a seaway would therefore be quite as easy.

Another man might construct his compartment thus:

[Illustration: Fig. 2]

The vessel in this case would labor quite heavily on the slightest

provocation and would not be so steady or so seaworthy as the one first

mentioned, with the narrow bin or compartment extending to the upper

deck.

The same remarks apply to the ballasting of yachts. Before the days of

outside lead, when pleasure craft shifted their racing for a cruising

rig preparatory to a deep-water voyage, it was customary to raise the

inside lead ballast by placing layers of cork beneath it, thus ensuring

easy movements in a seaway. Racing yachts nowadays have all their weight

outside, and this device for their relief cannot therefore be resorted

to. When crossing the Atlantic, say for a race for the _America's_ Cup,

they are always in danger of getting caught in a gale of wind and an

accompanying mountainous sea. In order to prevent excessive rolling,

which might endanger the mast and consequently the vessel herself, it is

necessary to keep a press of sail set. For this purpose a trysail with

plenty of hoist to it is indispensable. It should not be one of those

jib-headed impostors that some racing skippers most unaccountably

affect, but one with a good long gaff that will successfully prevent the

otherwise inevitable and peril-fraught roll to windward.

A yacht under these circumstances, it is true, cannot carry a great

press of canvas when on the top of one of those big rollers that a gale

soon kicks up in the Atlantic. But she wants as much of her sail area as

possible exposed to the gale when she is in the hollow of the wave.

Otherwise there will not be sufficient pressure to prevent her from

rolling to windward.

Rolling to windward—easy enough to write, you may think—but every sailor

knows what may follow. Green seas fore and aft, mast sprung, men washed

overboard; and if the gale does not abate, why, Davy Jones' locker for

all hands and the cook!

The storm trysail must necessarily be a sheet-footed sail set over the

furled mainsail. It is a sail comparatively narrow at the foot, but it

should for obvious reasons be made as broad as possible at the head, in

proper proportion of course to the breadth of the foot. It need not have

quite as much hoist as the mainsail, for the throat halyards at such a

time must have a good drift, while to keep the sail inboard the peak

should be quite extreme. It follows, therefore, that although the

rollers may be high the peak of the trysail is above them, and the yacht

is kept jogging along steadily without any sudden and violent shocks or

strains to spar or rigging.

The following rough sketches will, I think, serve to demonstrate the

superiority of the gaff-headed trysail over that abortion, the

thimble-headed variety, which I do not hesitate to condemn as useless

for a modern yacht ballasted with outside lead in a seaway.

[Illustration]

No. 1 shows vessel with gaffheaded sail on the crest of a wave. She

drops down into the hollow of the wave and becomes No. 2. The shaded

part of the sail catches the wind over the crests of the waves, and the

area so exposed is sufficient to steady the vessel and give her a safe

heel or list.

[Illustration]

Now I wish to call your attention to No. 3. She has enough sail spread

when on the crest of a wave. But observe her when in the hollow. She has

scarcely a stitch of sail above the level of the crest. The consequence

is that her weight being so low down, and her form having so much

stability, she swings with a violent roll to windward and her mast is

thereby imperilled. This is the result of not having the requisite

amount of pressure at the head of the sail.

The commanders of square-rigged vessels always bear this in mind. They

heave to under a close-reefed maintopsail, never under a lower course,

and the ship when in the trough of the sea has enough sail exposed to

keep her steady. The smart schooners that used to ply between St.

Michaels and London in the fruit trade, and that were bound to make

smart passages or lose money, were always fitted with gaffheaded

trysails, and found them most efficacious in beating to windward in

strong gales. Their sturdy skippers would have looked with contempt and

ridicule upon any person so fatuous as to recommend a jibheaded trysail.

And they were skilled sailors of fore-and-aft rigged craft, and were

well acquainted with that stretch of the wild Atlantic between the

Lizard and the Azores. These vessels used to beat up the English Channel

in the teeth of an easterly gale and fight their way homeward inch by

inch, and I consider the practical experience of their captains as far

more reliable than the theoretical vagaries of men who were never out of

soundings in a small craft.

What is true of comparatively large yachts in an Atlantic gale applies

equally to the small cruiser. The theory is precisely the same, and in

ordering a storm trysail from his sailmaker the aspiring owner of a

smart, seaworthy cruiser might well be guided by the few hints given

above. A gaffheaded trysail is just what he wants to steady his boat

when hove to, and to counteract that tendency toward rolling that

outside lead always has on the hull of a boat in a seaway.

When coming to anchor at any other time than low water, do not forget to

allow for the fall of the tide. For instance, if you bring up in 10 feet

of water when the tide is high, in a boat drawing, say 5 feet, and the

range of rise and fall is also 5 feet, at low water your vessel would be

aground and perhaps under untoward circumstances in danger of damage or

even total loss. This hint is worth remembering in many parts of the

world, especially in some parts of the Bay of Fundy, where there is a

range of no less than 50 feet! Soundings on the chart denote the depth

at mean low water.

[Illustration]

VII.

OVERHAULING THE YACHT.

No matter how small a craft the yachtsman owns she will, after a

winter's lay-up, require a good deal of attention before she is fit for

the water; and there is no reason why a keen yachtsman who owns a tidy

little craft should not fit her out himself in his spare time. In fact,

I am acquainted with many boat-owners who find nearly as much delight in

getting their own vessels into proper fettle for the season's sport as

they do in navigating them. There is much to be said in favor of this

enterprise. The principal argument is that a man overhauling the hull of

the boat which belongs to him will not be at all likely to "scamp" the

work. On the contrary, it is to his interest to do the job thoroughly

while he is about it, for he is improving his own property; whereas if

he employs a mechanic to do it by piece work, or by the day, the task

may be performed in a manner more or less perfunctory, or at any rate

without the attention to minor details which the actual proprietor would

be expected to bring to the task.

I would not counsel a man to attempt repairs which call for the skilled

shipwright or boat-builder. The result would in all probability be a

lamentable failure, and in the end a mechanic would have to be called

in. But the work of cleaning, painting and varnishing a hull

intrinsically sound may be accomplished by the man or boy of average

intelligence and industry.

What is true about a hull is still more so of her rig. When I first went

to sea on a deep-water voyage, as soon as the ship was out of soundings

the crew's first duty was to undo the work of the professional rigger,

stay the masts anew by shrouds and backstays, and replace the hurried

botch-work of knots and splices by seamanlike and shipshape work.

Anything in the shape of a boat may be made water-tight, no matter how

leaky she may be, if treated with careful ingenuity. I would be the last

man to suggest patching and puttying up a ramshackle craft whose frames

and planking are rotten. Supposing, however, that the hull is fairly

sound, but through exposure to the hot sun her planks are cracked in

sundry places, and that in fact she leaks like a sieve, there is no

reason why she should be condemned. There is a lot of good fun to be got

out of a craft of this kind, if the proper repairs are made. If put in

the hands of a professional boat-builder the cost would be very high,

even if he could be induced to undertake the work. Here, then, is where

a handy man or boy has a capital opportunity to try his hand as a

craftsman. I repaired an old 18 foot boat in my younger days, when money

was scarce and I had the alternative of giving up my pet diversion of

sailing or making the ancient bucket tight.

This is how I went about it.

The craft in question was hauled out on the shore above high-water mark.

She had been abandoned by her rightful owner, who had moved inland and

left her to the tender mercies of the sun in summer and the snow in

winter. For sixteen months she lay on the beach neglected. Every day I

cast covetous eyes on her. I will make a clean breast of it now in my

old age and confess that I had contemplated stealing her. That sin was,

however, spared me, as I found her owner's address and wrote, asking if

he would sell her. He replied that he would give her to me and welcome,

and thus made me the happiest youth in the land.

The boat was originally a first-class little lap-streaker of good model,

built of teak throughout and copper-fastened; but there were many cracks

in her planks and most of her fastenings were loose, and in a general

way she might be described as "nail-sick" all over. With the help of a

couple of chums I placed her on chocks and shored her up on an even

keel, supporting her well, so that she should not suffer from any

unequal strain when I filled her later on with water. She was very dirty

inside, and I remember it took me the greater part of a day to

thoroughly clean her with soap, hot water and a scrubbing brush. Then I

put the plug in and started to fill her up with water. Although I had

plenty of help from the village boys, who were never so joyous as when

pottering about a boat, it took a long time to fill her, for the water

poured out of her like the streams from a shower-bath. But her dry and

thirsty planks soon began to swell a little and the leaks to diminish. I

kept her as full of water as possible for two or three days, marking

with chalk every leak that appeared. I may remark that the chocks on

which her keel was raised were high enough for me to crawl completely

under her bottom and get at every part of her. Her hull, which

originally had been varnished to show the grain of the natural wood, was

pretty well checkered with chalk-marks by the time I had finished. Then

I let the water drain out of her, and waited until she was dried

thoroughly by wind and sun.

Meanwhile I bought a lot of copper nails of the requisite length and

rooves to match, with the use of which I had become thoroughly familiar

from watching the men in the boat-shop hard by.

Then I began operations, aided by an apprentice from the boat-builder's

establishment whom I induced, by the proffer of pocket money, to turn

out of his bed at dawn and lend me a hand till the clang of the bell

summoned him to his daily toil. We replaced all the rivets that had

worked very loose with new ones of a larger size, and drove an

additional nail between every two originally driven. The old nails,

which were only a little slack, I hardened with a few taps of the hammer

from the inside, while Toby, the afore-mentioned apprentice, "held on"

against the heads of the nails with another hammer on the outside. This

was slow and tedious work, but it paid in the long run, for it made the

boat almost as good as new, her frames, as I have already mentioned,

being in capital condition.

My next operation was to borrow a pitch-kettle from the boat shop and to

put in it a pound of pitch and a gallon of North Carolina tar. Kindling

a fire under it I let it boil until the pitch had melted, stirring it

constantly. This mixture I applied boiling hot to the inside of the boat

with a paint-brush, filling every crevice and ledge up to the level of

the underside of the thwarts. It was astonishing what a quantity of this

composition the planks absorbed. I put only half a ladleful of the tar

into my paint-pot at a time, so that it should not stand long enough to

cool, replenishing every few minutes from the boiling kettle. Tar when

at the boiling point is comparatively thin, and has superior penetrative

qualities, so it can be worked with the point of the brush into every

crevice, no matter how minute. When it hardens it forms a water-tight

seam which possesses, from the nature of its ingredients, a certain

amount of elasticity.

There were a number of sun-cracks in the planking, which I filled with

fish glue, run in hot from the outside. This composition dries very hard

and does not crack. My next task was to sandpaper the outside, smoothing

the very rough places with pumice-stone after wetting them well. I ached

all over by the time this process was completed but I got her as smooth

as glass. Then I gave her outside a couple of good coats of raw linseed

oil applied on a hot day. As a finish, not caring to waste money on

varnish, I gave her a final coat of boiled linseed oil, in which a

generous lump of rosin had been melted. This is the mixture used from

time immemorial by the Dutch on the bottoms and topsides of their

galliots, and it wears well and looks well, resisting the action of both

fresh and salt water. I may say that this method of making my boat

water-tight was economical and successful. The example may be followed

with similar results by anybody who owns a leaky lapstreak craft.

Another method, as practiced on a St. Lawrence skiff that was badly

checked and rotten in places, is thus described by a veteran boatman who

made the successful experiment: "The boat was of lapstreak construction,

and many of the seams had opened. I went entirely over the boat, first

closing the seams as much as possible by drawing together with

clout-nails. Next, where there were cracks through the 3/16-inch

planking, I cleaned the painted surface, and where the paint had

blistered I removed all of it by scraping. When the surface was in

proper condition I cut a strip of eight-ounce duck of a length and width

to cover the crack (generally 3/4 inch was wide enough) and smeared one

side, by means of a stick, with liquid glue. The canvas was applied to

the crack and pressed down, and the glue-stick drawn over the raveled

ends from the center outward, to make them adhere closely to the boat.

Then the canvas and surrounding wood were brushed over with enamel

paint. The painting must be done before the glue sets, as otherwise the

canvas is apt to warp. Open cracks 1/8 inch wide were covered in this

manner, and also cracks at the butts of the strakes. After all of the

cracks were treated I gave the boat two good coats of paint over all,

and the result was a comparatively smooth surface, and one that was

absolutely watertight." The veteran very truly adds that an old boat

repaired in this way will not stand any rough usage, and the patches are

not proof against being dragged over rocks, or even a sand-beach; but by

a little labor a boat that is practically worthless may be so made

serviceable for an indefinite time.

By either of the methods mentioned above a lapstreak boat may be made

tight as a bottle. A carvel-built craft—that is, one with the planks

flush, edge and edge, and the seams between calked and payed—may

generally be made tight by recalking her with threads of cotton prepared

for that purpose and sold by ship-chandlers, driving the cotton well

home with iron and mallet, and afterward puttying up the seams. Care

should be taken, however, not to put the cotton in too tight, or drive

it right through the seam. Serious damage has often been done to a boat

in the way of increasing her leakiness by too hard calking. Or the

boat's hull may be completely covered with light duck nailed on with

copper tacks, and afterward well painted. This, however, is rather

difficult for a greenhorn to accomplish so as to make a neat fit of it;

but I have seen several boats repaired and renovated in this manner by

young men gifted with ingenuity, and a great deal of patience. I may say

that the result, if the work is well done, is worth the pains thereon

expended.

Rowboats, sailboats, and launches propelled by any kind of power may

have their hulls treated after one of these fashions, with quite

satisfactory results.

If the owner does not think he is sufficiently handy to undertake the

stopping of leaks he can, at any rate, paint and varnish his craft. To

paint a boat outside or inside a perfectly smooth surface is necessary,

and to obtain this all rough spots should be smoothed with pumice-stone

and sand-paper. Enamel paint should be used above the water-line, and

the bottom may be painted with any one of the excellent compositions now

in the market, which prevent grass and barnacles from flourishing too

luxuriantly on the underbodies of boats.

The interior of the boat, after being thoroughly washed and scrubbed,

should also have a coat or even two coats of enamel paint, as this

composition is lasting and wears three times as long as the ordinary

preparation of white lead, oil, turpentine, and pigment. One thing,

however, is worth remembering. Never use washing soda or boiling water

to clean wood covered with enamel paint. Rub it with a sponge or flannel

cloth dipped in lukewarm water and a little soap. For protecting and

beautifying natural wood above deck or below, use a good brand of spar

varnish. This will resist the damp, salt air of the ocean, or the more

penetrating moisture of fresh-water lakes and rivers, far better than

the higher grade of varnish used for the indoor decoration of dwelling

houses, which, when it gets damp, acquires a plum-like bloom on its

surface by no means beautiful.

Mr. W. Baden-Powell, than whom there is no better authority, says very

truly, that there is no more dangerous time in their lives for the spars

of canoes than when stowed away in a boat-house roof for the damp

winter's rest. Bamboo spars are more liable to suffer than pine, or

solid spruce, but each and all are in danger of splitting or kinking,

especially so in the case of built spars, if glued up, instead of

screw-built. With such convenient lengths as are found in canoe spars,

there is no excuse for leaving them in damp boat-houses, as they can be

stacked in a room corner, on end, and the sails and rigging in drawers

or boxes. In this way each item of rigging can be overhauled, mended,

improved, and set in order for the coming year, just as convenient spare

time offers.

About the middle of March in these latitudes we generally are blessed

with ideal sailing breezes, a trifle blustering and boisterous, perhaps,

when the merry music of the stiff nor'wester pipes through the rigging,

but nevertheless vastly enjoyable to the ardent amateur, who grasps the

tiller of his stanch shippie and fearlessly luffs up to the strident

puffs, knowing that he has a stout hull beneath him, and that sails and

gear are of trusty strength.

It is all very well for the steam-yachtsmen and such-like marine

Sybarites to wait for the hot days of July to arrive before ordering

their floating palaces to go into commission, but he who depends upon

sails can ill afford to allow all the glorious winds of the fresh and

fragrant springtime to blow themselves to waste in such reckless,

feckless fashion. There may be a chilly sting or bite in the spray that

breaks on the weather bow in a silver shower and smites the helmsman

mercilessly in the face, but there is invigorating ozone in wind and

water, and a glow of triumph after a successful battle with breeze and

billow.

[Illustration: IN DRY DOCK.]

[Illustration:

Photo by Dr. Titus.

HAULED OUT FOR PAINTING.

]

It is prudent, too, to fit out early and lay up late, for life, alas! is

brief, and it behooves us, my boating brethren, to enjoy as many brave

sailing days as possible ere we make our final voyage across the Styx,

with grim Charon, the ferryman, taking his perennial trick at the

tiller, while his pets, the frogs, plash and play and croak in his muddy

wake.

If the yacht is a small one—a knockabout or a 30-footer—and she has

wintered afloat, the first thing is to haul her out and prepare to clean

her hull of barnacles and grass, of which a goodly crop is sure to have

grown on her below the water-line. Start in with scrubbing brushes, sand

and canvas and use plenty of elbow grease until she is thoroughly

cleaned and all rough places smoothed with pumice stone. Use plenty of

fresh water, with a flannel cloth as a final application to her hull.

Then leave her until she is thoroughly dry. Carefully examine her seams

for leaks, calking where necessary.