THE LAST WORD—Final hints to tars who want to sail their own craft 292
ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE.
Frontispiece, “With Topmasts Housed,” 12
Jason’s Yacht _Argo_, 15
Viking Ship, 20
Flagship of Columbus, 25
Dutch Yacht of Seventeenth Century, 28
Commodore John C. Stevens, 31
_Gimcrack_ and _Maria_, 34
_America_, 1851, 38
_Maria_, 1851, 38
_America’s_ Lines, 39
The Cutter _Oriva_, 48
_Vigilant_ in Dry-dock, 51
_Uncas_ in Frame, 55
Interior of _Uncas_, 60
Form of _Uncas_, 60
_Uncas_ on the Ways, 66
_Ouananiche_, 71
_Dragon III._, 75
_Gloriana_, 79
_Madge_, 82
Germ of the Centerboard, 84
_Vesta_, 85
_Athlon_, 94
Catboat _Dorothy_, 101
_Kewaydin_, 103
The Herreshoff Catboat _Wanda_, 104
Lines of _Evolution_, 107
Lines of _Jullanar_, 108
Lines of _Niagara_, 110
Lines of _Jubilee_, 110
Mid-section of _Dilemma_, 110
English Finkeel Freak _Nameless_, 111
Lines of _Rocket_, 112
_Niagara’s_ Midship Section, 113
_Niagara_ Under Sail, 114
_Rorqual_, 116
_Dad_, 117
_Vesper_, 117
Monstrosity _Skate_, 118
_Dominion_ on Even Keel, 121
_Dominion_ Heeled, 121
_Dominion_ Under Sail, 123
Double-huller of the Pacific., 126
Sloop _Gracie_, 133
Schooner _Sappho_, 134
Cutter _Genesta_, 135
Schooner _Colonia_, 137
Rig of Cutter Showing Masthead Shroud, 139
Rig and Sail Plan of _Uncas_, 145
Mastheads of _Uncas_, 147–8
Cutter _Minerva_, 150
Sail Plan of _Ethelwynn_., 152
Half-rater _Spruce IV._, 153
Fifteen-footer _Ethelwynn_., 153
Forty-footer _Gossoon_, 161
_America_, 1899, 165
_Phantom_, 193
_Ghost_, 199
A Stern Chase, 201
_Vigilant_, 224
_Defender_ in Dry-dock, 227
_Thistle_, now _Comète_, 230
_Volunteer_, 231
_Valkyrie III._ in Dry-dock, 233
_Ellen_, Twenty-rater, 235
Cutter’s Bow and Stern, 1892, 237
English Mid-sections, 238
Mid-sections of Cup Contestants, 239
_Volunteer_ and _Thistle_, 241
_Vigilant_ and _Valkyrie II._, 241
_Valkyrie II._, 243
_Valkyrie III._, Stern View, 245
Modern Type of Fin, 246
_Defender_ and _Valkyrie III._, 246
Hoisting _Defender’s_ Mainsail, 247
_Defender_ Under Brooklyn Bridge, 251
_Defender_ Under Sail, 255
_Valkyrie III._ Under Sail, 259
_Defender’s_ Stern, 271
[Illustration:
“WITH TOPMASTS HOUSED.”
]
I.
YACHT RACING AS A SPORT.
BRIEF REVIEW OF THE FASCINATING PASTIME FROM ITS INCEPTION TO THE
PRESENT TIME.
About half a century ago, when I wasn’t so gray and grizzled as I am
now, I was shipmate with John Gulliver, an ancient mariner who fully
believed in the doctrine of the transmigration of souls. He used to spin
the most wonderful yarns. He had in former incarnations animated the
body of a whale, a green turtle and a sea-gull. He had also been cabin
boy on the good ship _Ark_. He declared that, of all the skippers he had
ever sailed under, Captain Noah was the strictest.
During the brief but memorable voyage of that historic craft, the crew,
he declared, never once got an afternoon watch below. When they weren’t
feeding the live stock they were kept busy on deck cleaning brasswork
and hauling taut the lee crossjack brace. He said he felt very glad when
the time came for the crew to be paid off. He had grown weary of the
weevily biscuits and the tough salt junk. There were no “manavellings”
aboard the tarnation hooker and the Old Man only served out rum once
during the voyage, and that was when the _Ark_ was hove-to under a
goose-winged maintopsail and foretopmast staysail in the latitude and
longitude of Mount Ararat, waiting for the dove to come aboard.
I remember I used to listen with my mouth wide open to the marvelous
stories of this old salt. I once asked him to describe the interior
fittings of Captain Noah’s ship, but from what I could gather from him
there wasn’t much gilt gingerbread work in her main saloon. Everything
was for use; nothing for ornament. There weren’t even brass hoops on the
mess kids. Besides, she leaked like a sieve and wouldn’t steer well
unless close-hauled on a bowline.
The ship _Argo_, in which Jason sailed in search of the Golden Fleece,
had no artistic decorations below, but her hull, from all accounts, was
a “dandy.” Built of lofty pines which flourished on Mount Pelion, she
was pierced for fifty oars. She was daubed with coal-black pitch, and
her bows were painted with vermilion. I don’t believe she ever made more
than four knots an hour, even with fifty heroes pulling their hardest at
the oars, all keeping time to the music of the harp of Orpheus, who had
too much low cunning to do any work himself. The _Argo_ was a yacht
manned by Corinthians and the first one that ever sailed on the Euxine,
vulgarly known as the Black Sea. So far as I know, there are no
photographs extant of her interior, but judging from the log of her
voyage she had a fine galley on deck, in which her crew of heroes used
to cook the choice parts of swine and deer for their own use, offering
up the offal as a sacrifice to the immortal gods—a circumstance showing
that the ancient mariners were just as level-headed as the down-to-date
seamen of to-day.
[Illustration:
JASON’S YACHT “ARGO.”
]
The handsome barges which belonged to the high civilization of ancient
Egypt used to ply on the muddy waters of the Nile, and highly ornate
vessels they were, manned by fifty rowers. They had sails of crimson
silk, richly embroidered. Their cabins were sumptuous, spacious and
luxurious, gold, silver and precious stones being used lavishly in their
decoration. In such a stately craft Cleopatra and Mark Antony passed
many halcyon hours of splendid ease and amorous dalliance. The Romans
and Carthaginians had their pleasure craft, and so had the Greeks and
Venetians.
It was the custom of the Romans to hold regattas of biremes and
triremes, and according to the chronicles a good deal of money changed
hands over the results. Every schoolboy remembers the exciting boat race
between those gallant Trojan captains, Cloanthus and Sergestus, so ably
reported by one Vergil. I know that I can never forget it. That regatta
cost me many a cruel birching. In these competitions oars only were
used. I fancy that sails were not set in those days except when the wind
blew abaft the beam, the ancients not being well versed in the art of
beating to windward. The swift ships in which Father Æneas, his faithful
Achates and his devoted followers, fled from Troy, had, I suppose, but
scanty cabin accommodations; and when bold Pilot Palinurus glanced at
the compass to see if the helmsman was steering a correct course, no
highly polished brass binnacle reflected that skillful old navigator’s
bronzed and bearded face.
The flagship of Columbus may fairly be classed with the _Argo_, and so
may the Norse galley which brought to the rugged New England coast those
hardy salts who built the windmill at Newport and left their indelible
marks on the primeval granite rocks of that region.
The Dutch, I think, were the inventors of the sailing yacht proper, and
from Holland the finest diversion in the world spread to Great Britain,
and became the sport of kings. Quaint old Pepys, in his diary, tells us
of a sailing yacht named _Mary_, which was presented by the Dutch East
India Company to King Charles II. in the year 1661. Charles was a
tip-top yachtsman, the merry monarch being never sick at sea. His yacht
_Mary_ was beaten by another pleasure craft of English design, the match
being the first between sailing yachts in the history of the pastime in
England. According to Pepys, the _Mary_ was snug and cozy below, quite
comfortable, but not at all luxurious. The king cruised much in her up
and down the English Channel in the palmy days of his reign.
Three hundred years before, when Marino Faliero was Doge of Venice, a
merchant prince of that state originated pleasure sailing on the
peaceful Adriatic. A Dutchman called Van Kompf transferred the craft to
the German Ocean, and gave it the name of yacht. To the Dutch and
Scandinavian strain in the English blood is owing that passion for the
sea which has made yachting so favorite a recreation in Great Britain.
Our own love for the sport is doubtless derived from the same source.
Turning to our own land the beginnings are naturally more definite. We
know the exact facts, for the New York Yacht Club was organized aboard
Mr. John C. Stevens’ schooner _Gimcrack_ on July 30, 1844, the
_Gimcrack_ being at anchor off the Battery. In those days there were but
few yachts, and most of them were small. The fittings of pleasure craft
were then simple and inexpensive, when compared with the luxurious and
costly appointments of the palatial vessels which are our pride to-day.
The old _Maria_, which was the last yacht owned by Commodore Stevens,
would not rank very high in the present fleet of magnificent steamers,
schooners, sloops and cutters. She was the finest and fastest yacht of
her day, having many of what are now termed “modern improvements,” such
as outside lead, a heavily weighted main centerboard, also a forward
centerboard, a hollow main boom ninety-five feet long and nine feet in
circumference at its greatest girth, built of white oak staves, with
doweled and keyed edges, iron bands and longitudinal iron trusses. Her
main sheet was fitted with a rubber compressor.
Her former sailing-master is on record as saying: “She would work within
seven points, and I have sailed her seventeen knots. On her trial trip
with the _America_ along the beach we beat her so badly that Mr. Stevens
was in doubt whether it was good policy to send her to England; but as
she defeated all the others by as much as we beat her, it was finally
decided she ought to go.”
The _Maria_ is said to have cost $100,000, a vast sum in those days even
for Mr. Stevens, who owned nearly all Weehawken and Hoboken. It must be
remembered, however, that she was continually being altered and
improved, no expense being spared. The equipments and cabin fittings of
all the pleasure craft of that period were plain and economical. The
greater part of their cost was expended on hulls, spars and rigging,
which were of the best material. The age was not so luxurious as it is
to-day. Though bronze and aluminum hulls, steel booms, wire rigging,
silken sails, and the one hundred and one “fads,” patented and
otherwise, which are now considered indispensable for racing were
unknown, the yachts cost a pretty round sum, but merely a trifle
compared with the crack clippers of this year of grace.
[Illustration:
THE VIKING SHIP.
]
The cabins of those yachts were not finished in costly hard woods carved
by artists and highly polished. No upholstery of silken plush or
hangings of rich tapestry were to be seen. Sperm oil in brass lamps of
no particular design illuminated the space below. The fare, too, was
plain and simple. Little or no wine of costly vintage was consumed.
Honest claret, mellow Medford rum, and fine old whisky were the staple
beverages with which those sturdy salts moistened their clay, while they
solaced their souls with Virginia tobacco smoked in pipes of quaint
Dutch shape. It is needless to say that the “400” of half a century ago
didn’t carry their valets with them while cruising on the Sound or while
sailing to Cape May.
The old course of the club was from the club-house in the Elysian
Fields, Hoboken, out to the Southwest Spit and back. The yachts, as a
rule, were sailed by amateurs. No uniform was worn in those primitive
days, and there was no red tape whatever. But it is questionable if a
finer class of amateurs ever existed than those men who sailed the
yachts of the club during the first twenty years of its history.
If some of those sturdy salts who flourished in the good old days of our
famous schooner _America_ could rise from their snuggeries in the
cemeteries and sail on the squadron cruise of the New York Yacht Club
next August, I would promise them a spectacle which would astonish them.
I would first point out to them in Glen Cove a fleet of more than one
hundred yachts, comprising some of the finest steam and sailing craft in
the world. I would next call attention to the fairy-like electric,
steam, and naphtha launches darting between the ships and the shore,
some of them laden with ladies of bewitching loveliness, dressed so
saucily and coquettishly in nautical raiment as to make a bachelor’s
mouth water.
I would next take my resurrected friends in a naphtha launch on board
one of the big steam yachts, and while on their way thither they would
marvel at the handiness and speed of the little boat which carried them.
If it was the flagship _Corsair_ they visited, her owner would be sure
to have the side piped in true man-o’-war fashion in honor of the
old-time salts. Climbing up the gangway ladder, walking aft on the snowy
deck, they would be invited below, to the hospitality of the _Corsair_,
which they would indeed be loath to leave.
I might then possibly convoy them aboard the big racing schooner
_Colonia_ and the new cup defender, and, after gazing upon these two
marine marvels, you might wager that the old chaps would make a vigorous
kick against returning to their little grass-covered beds.
While rummaging over some musty documents in the library of an old
seafaring friend the other day, I happened to come across some
interesting memoranda concerning the good old schooner _Gimcrack_, the
first flagship of the New York Yacht Club. From these items I gather
that she was fitted with a fixed centerboard of heavy plate iron, four
feet deep and fifteen feet long, resembling the fin of to-day, but minus
the bulb of lead on the base. This is another exemplification of the
truth of the old adage that there is nothing new under the sun.
The pastime which was so ably started by those old and gallant sportsmen
has prospered beyond belief, and no wonder, for yacht racing, in my
judgment, is the most fascinating and wholesome sport in the world. Its
devotees are actuated by no mercenary or money-making motives, but
follow the pastime for the many delights its pursuit affords. The
praiseworthy ambition that has for its goal the winning of sea trophies
is devoid of all craving after filthy lucre, because the prizes
obtained, no matter whether in cash or plate, are trifling in comparison
with the first cost of the yacht and the incidental expenses of running
her. There are many other reasons that may be adduced to prove that the
pastime excels all others; but, in my opinion, the most convincing
argument that can be urged is that no scandal has ever sullied the fair
name of the sport, and that its followers the wide world over are the
best fellows that breathe—generous, hearty and manly—the salt of the
earth, in fact.
It is a sport in which the element of gambling rarely enters, except in
the case of international events, when patriotic pride impels men to
back their country’s flag with a modest wager. I have been a close
student of yachting lore for more years than I care to recall, but I
know of no instance where yacht racing has made a financial wreck of one
of its faithful adherents. Of what other gentlemanly sport can as much
be truthfully alleged?
If a rich man has sons with a leaning toward yachting he should
encourage its complete development. I know of no better school for the
cultivation of all manly virtues. There is no question concerning its
healthfulness, but my contention is that a man’s moral tone as well as
his physical constitution improves by association with the sea.
Self-reliance, quickness of decision, action and resource, bravery and
personal endurance, are qualities necessary for success in life. Where
can all these desirable characteristics be acquired with more ease and
greater satisfaction than on a racing vessel, preferably one of moderate
size manned exclusively by amateurs or with the aid of one paid hand?
[Illustration: [The Flagship of Columbus]]
It may properly be remarked that the love of boating is innate and can
never be acquired. The mere sight of the sea has an attraction to the
true son of Neptune as cogent as that of the magnet to the pole. He
eagerly desires to be afloat on it, and can sympathize with Charles
Lever, who once said he would rather have a plank for a boat and a
handkerchief for a sail than resign himself to give up boating
altogether. The man who has not the nautical instinct can never come to
regard a boat with more affection than he does a horse-car. When you
rave ecstatically of the virtues of your little ship he feels inclined
to think that you must be half crazy. You can never make a yachtsman out
of material such as this. We cannot all be sailors, so therefore let the
cobbler stick to his last and the cook to the foresheet, where he
belongs!
The deduction from the above is that you should be careful as to the
choice of your seagoing chum. The most congenial companion ashore may
prove an insufferable bore afloat. And to tell the truth, you ought not
to blame him for the lack of the nautical instinct, but rather yourself
for inviting a person lacking that saving qualification to go sailing
with you. _Nauticus nascitur, non fit_ is a true adage. There is a huge
army of our fellow creatures who think with Dr. Johnson that the
pleasure of going to sea is getting ashore again from a prison, where
there is also the risk of getting drowned. But a far brighter literary
light than he, Thomas Carlyle, to wit, the crabbed, the cynic, who was
ever ready to use his mordant pen of wormwood in holding up to
execration the foibles and the sins of humanity ashore, was always blind
to the faults of his fellow-man afloat. The acrid gall of his being,
induced by the horrors of chronic dyspepsia, was converted into milk and
honey by the magic influence of the Ocean.
Who can forget the account of his trip to Ostend and back in the revenue
cutter _Vigilant_ in 1842? He described the craft as a smart little trim
ship of some 250 tons, rigged, fitted, kept and navigated in the highest
style of English seacraft, made every way for sailing fast that she may
catch smugglers. Outside and inside, in furniture, equipment, action and
look, she seemed a model, clean as a lady’s work-box.
[Illustration:
DUTCH YACHT OF 17TH CENTURY.
]
His biographer, Froude, has told, of their return trip, how at midnight
they were in their berths aboard the _Vigilant_ running out into the
North Sea: “The wind fell in the morning and they were becalmed. They
sighted the North Foreland before night, but the air was still light,
and it was not till the next day that they were fairly in the river.
Then a rattling breeze sprang up and the _Vigilant_, with her vast
mainsail, her vast balloon jib, with all the canvas set which she could
carry, flew through the water, passing sailing vessels, passing
steamers, passing everything. They carried on as if they were entered
for a racing cup. The jib, of too light material for such hard driving,
split with a report like a cannon. Carlyle saw the ‘Captain’s eyes
twinkle; no other change.’ In ten minutes the flying wreck was gathered
in, another jib was set and standing in place of it, and the yacht sped
on as before. ‘To see men so perfect in their craft, fit for their work,
and fitly ordered to it,’ was a real consolation to him. There was
something still left in the public service of England which had survived
Parliamentary eloquence. They entered at Deptford and the gig was
lowered to take the party up to London.
“Five rowers with a boatswain; men unsurpassable, I do not doubt, in
boat navigation; strong, tall men, all clean shaved, clean washed, in
clean blue trousers, in massive clean check shirts, their black
neckcloths tied round their waists, their large, clean brown hands,
cunning in the craft of the sea—it was a kind of joy to look at it all.
In a few minutes they shot us into the Custom House stairs, and here,
waving our mild farewells, our travel’s history concluded. Thus had kind
destiny projected us rocket-wise for a little space into the clear blue
of heaven and freedom. Thus again were we swiftly reabsorbed into the
great, smoky, simmering crater, and London’s soot volcano had again
re-covered us.”
I am sure my readers will pardon me for quoting at such length from
Carlyle, if only for the reason that the matter I reproduce is far more
interesting than any I can originate. Besides, I need the extract to
emphasize my argument concerning the healthful moral tonic of my
much-loved sea. Here is atrabilious, doleful, indignant, and scornful
Carlyle cured temporarily of all his mental disorders by a rattling run
across the North Sea and back. He lands in a delightful frame of mind,
and has nothing but the most pleasant reminiscences of the _Vigilant_,
her skipper and her crew. The readers of his stories of other journeys
by land will appreciate the surprising contrast.
Very few men go into yachting for the advertisement that it may offer.
It is always possible for some seller of quack medicines to achieve
cheap notoriety by claiming that he is about to build a yacht to defend
or capture the _America’s_ Cup. If he uses diligently whatever art of
claptrap he is endowed with he will find numbers of newspapers gullible
enough to give him columns and columns of gratuitous puffs. The public
may be beguiled for a time into the belief that his intentions are
really honest; but the experienced yachtsman will not be deceived for a
moment, as he knows that no yacht club of repute will father the
challenge of such a person, even in the unlikely event of his building a
yacht for the purpose of a real race. Yacht clubs on both sides of the
Atlantic, to their credit, fight very shy of such queer customers.
[Illustration:
COMMODORE JOHN C. STEVENS, The Father of American Yachting.
]
Thus it is that the sport is confined to gentlemen; nautical blacklegs,
blackguards, and “welshers” being unknown. The membership committees of
the clubs are very discriminating and cautious as to those whom they
admit; and even if a “black sheep” succeeds in entering the flock his
presence is soon discovered, and he quietly learns that his room is more
desirable than his company. His resignation follows as a matter of
course.
A yacht club composed principally of men who love the sport for the
precious gifts it offers, and not for fashion’s sake, or because “It’s
the proper caper, you know, to belong to a yacht club, don’t you see?”
is an excellent school for a young man, both morally and physically. In
the arena of professional sport, as we all know, objectionable
characters, unhappily, fairly swarm. It would be invidious to
particularize or to single out any one sport as being remarkable from
the number of black sheep among its adherents. But of yachting it may
truly be said that the pastime never has been disgraced or degraded by
the professional hands necessarily employed in its service. Officers and
men before the mast quickly realize that good conduct is the only secret
of success, that braggarts and bullies have no place in its symmetry,
and that dishonesty of any kind, whether selling a race or robbing a
yacht owner, is quickly detected and punished. I have never known an
instance of the first-named disgraceful offence, and the lack of it
speaks volumes in behalf of the honor and integrity of yacht skippers
the wide world over. Be it remembered that for a sailing-master to lose
a race would be as easy as for a jockey to so ride a horse that in spite
of his gameness or his speed he could not possibly win. Scandals such as
in the past have made the turf a byword are happily unknown in yacht
racing. In all my experience of yachtsmen I never heard one of them, in
his most open and confidential moods, with his mind mellowed with grog,
boast of winning a race by unfair or questionable methods.
Many stockbrokers race their yachts, and, although the Stock Exchange is
supposed to have a peculiar effect on the moral tone of its members, yet
when these gentlemen engage in a yacht race they display the nicest
honor, the most chivalrous conduct toward their adversaries, that is
indeed most admirable to contemplate. Lawyers, too, who in the exercise
of their profession are full of wiles and stratagems, lose their chief
characteristics when they enter their yacht club or get aboard their
yachts. The transformation is magical. You fail to recognize in the
bluff, open and honest sea-dog in his natty suit of serge the shrewd
gentleman of the long robe who, with his quips and his quirks and his
long list of precedents and his unfailing gift of the gab, has just
succeeded in making the Supreme Court of the United States feel
exquisitely unhappy. Talk of Aladdin’s lamp or any other famous storied
talisman as you please but, upon my word, the sea has worked more
wonders than them all!
There is much patriotism among our yachtsmen, the bulk of the Naval
Militia of the various States, possessing such a volunteer organization,
consisting of men who are devoted to the sport. That the United States
Government is much indebted to yachtsmen is now generously conceded by
our naval authorities, who, at the outset of the war with Spain, availed
themselves of a large fleet of steam yachts, which were transformed with
marvelous celerity into despatch boats, protected cruisers and torpedo
boat destroyers. They proved of immense service to the navy, as that arm
of our national defence was destitute of these almost indispensable
vessels. It may be truthfully alleged that the navy would have been in
an unpleasant predicament if it had not been possible to call upon the
steam yachting fleet of the Atlantic coast. The splendid achievement of
the converted yacht _Gloucester_, formerly the flagship of the New York
Yacht Club, which drove ashore two Spanish torpedo boat destroyers near
Santiago de Cuba on July 3, 1898, will always be remembered as one of
the most brilliant episodes of that “most just and charitable war.” She
was in command of Lieut.-Commander Wainwright, who was executive officer
of the _Maine_ when she was blown up in Havana harbor on February 15,
1898.
[Illustration:
“GIMCRACK” AND “MARIA.”
]
The generous response of the Naval Militia to the call of the President
and the eagerness of yachtsmen generally to recruit its ranks have been
highly appreciated. Yachtsmen will ever feel proud of the gallantry of
the Naval Militia because it is so largely composed of their shipmates
and messmates. It is needless to expatiate on the patriotic part of my
theme. The advantages of yachting as a nursery for the navy in war-time
are indisputable, and will occur to anybody who will give the matter due
reflection.
[Illustration:
“AMERICA,” 1851.
]
[Illustration:
“MARIA,” 1851.
]
The Corinthian Yacht Club of New York, now unhappily extinct, did
excellent work in its rather brief but not inglorious career. It
achieved much in the way of the abolition of the pernicious broad and
shallow type of boat which at the time of the Corinthian Club’s heyday
was extremely popular. I should be disingenuous were I not to confess
quite frankly that the extreme type of plank-on-edge cutters favored by
the leading lights of this club was, in my judgment, nearly as
objectionable as the class of craft it sought to supersede. But still it
must be said that the boat of to-day, which is a compromise between the
extremes mentioned, owes a share at least of its existence to the bold
efforts of the Corinthians. To abolish the “skimming dish” was one of
the chief aims of the club, and that it did yeoman’s service in that
direction was one of its greatest glories.
[Illustration:
“AMERICA’S” LINES.
]
An innovation made by this club was the establishment of cadets as
members. These cadets were the sons or relatives of members who took an
interest in the sport. They were entitled to many of the privileges of
their elders, including the right to wear the club button. It always
impressed me that the idea was a good one. I know of no other club that
has followed its example. Now that the ban against women has been
removed by half-a-dozen clubs of importance, Young America may also be
granted an opportunity to rise and shine. There is no doubt that the
average American boy is fond of a sailor’s life. It is also true that
some of the genus would hardly be a joy in the life of a yacht club if
admitted to cadetship. There is every likelihood, therefore, that it may
be long before the boy becomes an active participant in yachting, so far
as clubs are concerned. But I know several ambitious youths who can
handle their fathers’ vessels as well as a veteran, and who can be
depended on to enter into the vigorous practice of the sport as soon as
they get old enough to run their own affairs.
It is my intention to discuss in detail the cost of running a racing
yacht, in a subsequent chapter, but I may say in a general way that
capital sport may be had each season at a moderate outlay. There never
before were so many yacht clubs as there are to-day, and never has a
more intelligent interest been taken in the economical pursuit of
racing. _Defenders_, _Vigilants_, _Colonias_ and _Emeralds_ are vessels
beyond the reach of all but millionaires. It is only the very richest of
our fellow citizens who can enjoy the delights of racing these large and
costly vessels. But the popular restricted classes of 1899 offer
inducements that the ordinary man of affairs earning a moderate income
may easily avail himself of. Suppose that two chums, who have sailed
together long enough to find out that their idiosyncrasies of
disposition and temperament will allow them to dwell together in amity
afloat, form a marine partnership and buy jointly a knockabout or
raceabout for cup-hunting and cruising purposes. The first cost of the
boat, complete and delivered, might be $800. A second-hand boat might be
picked up much cheaper. The expense of keeping her in commission would
be modest. No paid hand would be necessary, and the boat might be so
moored that one of the club hands would keep a general watch on her to
see that no harm befell her in a summer storm, his recompense for this
being a generous “tip” at the end of the season.
In nearly all of the yacht clubs in the vicinity of the metropolis
special efforts are made to induce owners of small craft to join, and
there are facilities for the safe anchorage and also the hauling out of
the club’s mosquito squadron. In this the clubs act wisely, for the
small classes are really the life of the organization, which, without
their active interest, might stand a fair chance of perishing of
inanition.
Most pleasures are evanescent when compared with the comfort that a
sea-dog gets from fixing up his cabin for the season’s sport. The
ingenuity displayed in making the most of the necessarily limited
quarters at his disposal, the stowage of his “dunnage,” so as to be able
to put his hand on anything at a moment’s notice in the dark, the
capacity of creating a home-like interior out of chaotic surroundings,
call out every faculty.
The first sail on a new boat which is your very own causes a thrill of
joy. To see the noble craft respond to the slightest touch of the
tiller, to watch her gradually eat her way to windward in the teeth of a
merry breeze, with a shining furrow of foam in her wake and her sharp
cutwater cleaving the blue billows, and when, with sheet eased off and
wind abeam, her lee rail almost awash, she puts on an extra spurt—all
these are ecstatic raptures which your poor land-lubber has never
experienced.
Yachts are fickle jades, as all who have been victims of their whims and
humors must fain concede. It is no wonder that they belong to the
feminine gender. No coquette can be coyer or more difficult to please
than the highly strung racing yacht. On occasions it is hard to realize
that she is an inanimate fabric. I have known one to develop nerves and
even hysteria. It takes a man of great judgment and infinite tact and
good temper to get the best speed out of a modern racehorse.
Qualifications similar and quite as highly developed are necessary to
the successful yacht skipper, be he amateur or be he professional.
The ambition to excel in the art of yacht racing has been the means of
inducing a great number of our fashionable youth, both golden and
gilded, to cultivate the sport of yachting. The wholesome and
invigorating influence of sea life and salt water have developed scores
of dudes into men; and the one-design classes, now so popular, do much
to keep young fellows out of mischief.
Racing in the smaller classes is encouraged by all the clubs except
one—the New York Yacht Club—and open regattas are plentiful, to which
the boats belonging to all recognized clubs are not only eligible but
cordially welcome. The Yacht Racing Association of Long Island Sound has
made a specialty of encouraging and promoting these open regattas, and
the result is a programme of most attractive events, with no conflicting
dates, that offer golden opportunities to ambitious amateurs to win
trophies of their skill and daring. All existing classes are invited to
take part in these competitions, as the most generous and sportsmanlike
spirit of comradeship pervades the yacht clubs of the Sound; so, if a
man prefers a catboat or a sloop or a yawl to a knockabout, he will have
many opportunities of gratifying his yacht-racing instincts. The rules
of this Yacht Racing Association are so fair and liberal that the most
carping of critics can find nothing in them to cavil at. A hearty
welcome is accorded the owners of all visiting boats by the club holding
the regatta, and nothing can be more satisfactory than the system which
so happily obtains in this present year of grace.
The benefits bestowed by this association on the yachtsmen of New York
and Connecticut are rivaled by those offered to Eastern yachtsmen by the
Yacht Racing Association of Massachusetts. Similar associations exist on
the Lakes and the Pacific Coast, while the International Yacht Racing
Union, established in 1897, promises to wield a powerful and benignant
influence in the immediate future on the promotion of international
matches, which, in the past, have proved so beneficial to the sport.
It may thus be deduced that the outlook for sound and thriving sport was
never brighter or more promising than it is to-day. White sails of
racing craft dot the waters of our coast line where the sport is
practicable. In the inland lakes the pastime, too, is pursued with zeal
and intelligence. The advance and progress made in the sport date,
strange to say, from 1880, when what is known as the “cutter craze”
first made itself manifest in this country. In the light of history it
should be candidly conceded that the lessons learned from the Scotch
cutters _Madge_, _Clara_ and _Minerva_ proved of incalculable benefit to
the sport in America. Broad-minded Britishers will also admit that the
victories of moderate and able compromise craft like _Puritan_ and
_Mayflower_, combining the American breadth of beam and the centerboard
with the British outside lead, over such representative English cutters
as _Genesta_ and _Galatea_ caused the alteration of the British rule
which penalized beam and which resulted in the building of vessels like
_Britannia_, _Valkyrie_ and _Meteor_.
The adoption by the English of cotton duck for sails, and also of the
Yankee laced mainsail, show how our transAtlantic cousins appreciate a
good thing when its advantages are made manifest. The eager way in which
they snapped up the Herreshoff fin-keel is further proof of the active
interest the British designers take in the development of American yacht
naval architecture and how keen they are to avail themselves of any new
“wrinkles” in hull, sails or rigging that Yankee genius may invent.
And while the British eye is kept wide open in our direction, it must
not be thought that we are blind to the doings of our rivals across the
sea. The friendly feelings that have been enhanced between the two great
English-speaking nations ever since the outbreak of the late war with
Spain did much to make another race for the _America’s_ Cup possible and
popular, and neither nation can afford to nap when the yachting
supremacy of the sea is at stake.
Queen Victoria’s policy has ever been to encourage yacht racing, as the
many Queen’s Cups she has presented to yacht clubs during her long reign
abundantly prove. The most popular act of her life, so far as
professional yacht sailors are concerned, took place on April 8, 1897,
when she visited the Prince of Wales’ cutter _Britannia_, at Nice, and
presented Capt. John Carter, her skipper, with the medal of the Victoria
Order, accompanying the gift with a graceful compliment. In America the
yachting fraternity, both amateur and professional, has received no
encouragement whatever from the Congress, and is still subject to
harassing legislation. This is much to be regretted, as it is without
question bad and unwise policy.
II.
THE RACING YACHT. SOME REMARKS ON THE MATERIAL, CONSTRUCTION AND
SELECTION OF A VESSEL.
It is a matter of some difficulty to advise a prospective yachtsman as
to the acquisition of a racing craft. There are two courses open to him.
He can either build or buy ready-made. If the question of money is
purely a secondary consideration, the wealthy amateur will probably feel
inclined to give an order to a fashionable naval architect for the
down-to-date design of a tip-top craft in the class on which he has set
his heart. He will find plenty of accommodating builders who will meet
his views conscientiously and do their best to follow out the minutiæ of
the draughtsman’s design. Swell sailmakers—and we have some of the best
on earth—will supply his craft with a splendidly fitting and sitting
suit of muslin, and he can hire a crack skipper who will teach him all
the tricks of the most expert timoneer.
[Illustration:
THE CUTTER “ORIVA.”
]
Mr. George L. Watson, the famous Scotch yacht designer, in a lecture on
“Progress in Yachting and Yacht Building,” delivered early in 1881,
said:
“As prophecy nowadays seems to be one of the branches of naval
architecture, and we have been told by Sir E. J. Reed and others what
kind of ships the next generation are to have, I am anxious to keep
abreast of the age, and herewith present you with the outline
specification of a 10-tonner for the season 2000. You see I keep myself
pretty safe, as but few of us will be alive to see her sail. The
dimensions I won’t venture on. Some yachting authorities assert that you
have only to make the boat long enough and heavy enough, to beat all
existing racing craft; and it seems strange that, with this knowledge in
their possession, they should not only have had sufficient self-denial
to resist the building of certain successes, but have even gone the
length of turning out duffers of normal dimensions. I think there is
just a little more in it than that, and can’t believe that a 10-tonner
80 feet long could ever be a success.
“We have not exhausted the possibilities of form yet, and really know
very little more about it than Solomon did when he confessed his
inability to understand ‘the way of a ship on the sea;’ and when we do
arrive at perfection in shape, we can set to, then, to look out for
better material.
“The frames and beams, then, of my ideal ship shall be of aluminum, the
plating below water of manganese bronze and the topsides of aluminum,
while I think it will be well to deck her, too, with that lightest of
metals, as good yellow pine will soon be seen only in a museum. For
ballast, of course we should have nothing but platinum, unless the owner
grudged the expense, when we might put the top tier of gold.
“But by that date I hope we won’t care for sailing in such a sluggish
element as the water. I firmly believe that some day the air will become
as easily traversed as the earth or ocean.”
Now, in 1881, Mr. Watson’s fame as a naval architect was quite firmly
established, but as a prophet he was without honor in his own and
every other country. It is therefore remarkable that his prediction,
made presumably in playful jest, was, in a great measure, fulfilled
not very long after. A torpedo boat of manganese bronze was actually
built in England for the French Government in 1891. Then followed the
construction in France of the yacht _Vendenesse_, built almost
altogether of aluminum, in 1892, and a series of French torpedo boats
of aluminum in 1895–6. The Yankee _Vigilant_ was constructed of Tobin
bronze below the water-line and of steel above. She had a hollow
bronze centerboard and a solid bronze rudder. The latest development
of Mr. Watson’s fanciful idea was introduced in _Defender_ in 1895.
This celebrated yacht has topside plating, deck beams, deck-strapping
and upper fittings of aluminum, 4 per cent. nickel alloy, while the
bottom plating is of bronze. The stern, frames, floor-plates,
stiffening-angles, bilge-stringers, inverted angle-bulbs, underdeck
beams, the two deck beams inclosing mast, tie-plates round mast,
stepping-socket, bed-plate fittings, and supports and chain-plates are
of steel. All the rivets are of bronze, thus completing an intimate
association of the three metals, which was followed in a short time by
inevitable general corrosion.
[Illustration:
Courtesy of Harper Bros.
“VIGILANT,” CUP-DEFENDER OF 1893, IN DRY DOCK.
]
Advocates of aluminum as a fit metal for use in shipbuilding point out
that no effort at insulation of any kind whatsoever was made, not even
the simple precautions which would have been insisted on in an ordinary
case of steel and bronze construction. _Defender_ was built with only
one purpose in view—the winning of a series of races. Her subsequent
proceedings were a matter of no interest to her owners and builder. Had
she been built of steel throughout she would have cost about half as
much as she actually did, and would have been good for fifteen years of
hard sailing if built up to Lloyd’s rules. But she might, in that case,
have failed to fulfill her only reason for existence—the beating of Lord
Dunraven’s _Valkyrie III._
The scientist who will invent some alloy to combine with aluminum which
will make the metal free from corrosion when immersed in salt water will
confer a great boon on the builders of racing yachts and, incidentally,
will enrich himself. That this problem will be solved eventually there
is little doubt. I hope that Mr. Watson will live to see his prophecy
realized, even to the extent of aerial navigation.
At present, however, the heavy first cost of aluminum and its short
life, when exposed to the erosive action of sea water, bar its use in
the construction of racing yachts, except when the sentiment of
defending or regaining an historic national trophy is indulged in by a
syndicate of capitalists. Probably no single millionaire would have gone
to the expense of the _Defender_, but when the price of her was divided
up among several, the plethoric purses were not so very much depleted
after all.
Aluminum as a material for yachts has been an interesting subject to me
ever since it was first used in shipbuilding. The aluminum used in the
_Defender_ had an alloy of from 12 to 15 per cent. of nickel. The
majority of the plates used were ⁵⁄₁₆ and ⅜ of an inch in thickness. The
heaviest plate weighed about 200 pounds, was 38½ inches wide, 13 feet 10
inches long, and ⁵⁄₁₆ of an inch thick. This plate gave an ultimate
tensile strength of 40,780 pounds per square inch, an elongation of 10
per cent. in 2 inches, and the reduction of area at the point of
fracture was 14.75 per cent. Each and every plate used was tested.
The _Defender_ was constructed of aluminum plating from the water-line
up. Her deck beams, lateral and diagonal braces under the deck, a
stringer plate connecting the deck beams with the sides of the vessel,
continuous throughout her length, and the rail were of aluminum. The
same metal was also used for dead-light frames and covers and small
interior fittings. The sheaves of all her blocks were of aluminum.
I have read nearly everything that scientific men have written on the
subject of aluminum as used in _Defender_, and from my reading I deduce
that the metal failed to prove satisfactory because proper care was not
taken to prevent oxidation by galvanic action. In the first place,
bronze rivets were used instead of aluminum rivets, or iron rivets
galvanized. Secondly, the insides of the rivet holes were not coated
with white lead, nor were the rivets themselves dipped in white lead or
paraffine before driving, as might easily have been done. In fact, no
precaution whatever was taken to minimize galvanic action.
Mr. Herreshoff was advised to lay strips of heavy canton flannel well
soaked in white lead between the lapping aluminum plates of the topsides
and the bronze plates of the underbody, and then rivet up with the
flannel between the edges of the two plates, forming a neutral joint.
This precaution was not taken, however, the result being great corrosion
where, through the junction of the two metals, galvanic action set in.
[Illustration:
“UNCAS” IN FRAME.
]
As a general axiom it may be averred that whenever brass or copper comes
into direct contact with aluminum exposed to sea water, corrosion is
very rapid. It may also be averred that aluminum rivets can be made
fully as strong as those of any other metal. Thus there is no good
reason for using bronze rivets in the construction of an aluminum
vessel.
The conclusion I arrive at is that aluminum as a material for a racing
yacht should not be condemned until further experiments have been made.
In strength and lightness it surpasses every other metal.
It is the general opinion of shipbuilders that the best system of
construction is to use one material alone in a vessel. Let her be all
wood or all one metal, and then the strains will be equal and corrosion
will be avoided. There is no question that wood should be used in all of
the smaller craft up to the 51-footers, at any rate. Strength and
lightness may be most effectually combined by the double-skin system of
construction, which is by all odds the most efficient and lasting. In
boats larger than these, steel may be the material of the hull. Metal in
small craft is necessarily so thin that unsightly bulges often disfigure
the topsides of vessels built of sheet-iron, ships’ lifeboats, for
instance. It is true, however, that these metal boats are light and
durable, and when hung to a ship’s davits do not warp or shrink or
become leaky when exposed to the burning rays of a tropical sun. These
qualities, though of great value in the craft indicated, do not apply to
small pleasure vessels, especially when the great heat of metal vessels
in our hot summers is taken into consideration. Steel corrodes quickly
and soon gets foul. It should, therefore, be kept well protected with a
preservative anti-fouling paint.
Old-fashioned yachtsmen, a class of people almost extinct, prefer wood
to any other material in sailing yachts of even the largest size. But
the most prejudiced of these ancient mariners are forced to admit,
however reluctantly, that wood will not satisfactorily stand the jarring
strains of powerful modern marine engines. It would, of course, be
possible to build an oaken vessel strong enough to sustain the stress of
the machinery, but the timbers would have to be bulky indeed, and the
weight would be far greater than if steel were made use of exclusively.
A friend of mine who is a devoted yachtsman, as well as a pretty fair
hand with the rod and gun, having lost the bulk of his money by an
unfortunate investment, was able by the exercise of ingenuity to build
for himself a smart and able cruising schooner at a very moderate cost,
and also to spend a winter very enjoyably. This is how he went about it:
In the first place he had a thorough knowledge of the type of boat he
wanted, and had a smattering of the shipbuilders’ art, being moderately
handy with tools. So when he went to a naval architect he was able to
give an intelligent notion of his real requirements, and wasted no
precious professional time.
In the course of a few days the designer furnished him with the
requisite working plans and specifications, all admirably clear and
concise, and easily comprehensible by an intelligent mechanic. Armed
with these plans he packed up his traps, not forgetting his guns, and
started for a certain seaport in Maine, where some of the best coasting
vessels in the world are built and where suitable timber is to be had at
a very low price. Labor is cheap and so is the cost of living. He fell
in with a skillful shipwright who owned a shipyard in the harbor, and he
made satisfactory terms for the building of the vessel, the construction
of which he generally supervised. She was built under cover, and thus
was not damaged in the least by the severe winter weather. My friend
made the seaport his headquarters, his expenses averaging no more than
$1 a day. He went on several enjoyable shooting expeditions, and was
much benefited in health by the pure and bracing air.
[Illustration:
INTERIOR OF “UNCAS.”
]
[Illustration:
FORM OF “UNCAS.”
]
The best of it was that by this means he became the owner of a very
serviceable vessel. All her timbers were sound and seasoned. The
estimate was so reasonable that, instead of galvanized fastenings, which
the specifications called for, he found that he could afford yellow
metal and copper bolts wherever prudence dictated their use.
Being a “crank,” as most good yachtsmen are, when the vessel was in
frame he gave every inch of her a right-down good soaking with kerosene
oil, applying as much as the dry wood was able to absorb. He says this
process preserves the wood almost indefinitely. All the oak was
fall-cut, and not a sappy timber found a place in the shapely hull.
In the late spring she was launched and rigged, and, when fitted out,
her owner sailed her to New York, where the nautical critics carefully
surveyed her and pronounced her good.
I would not, however, advise the average man to follow my friend’s
example. The man of whom I write was exceptionally well qualified and
equipped for the undertaking and carrying out of such a job. Outside of
his general knowledge of shipbuilding and seamanship, he was a shrewd
business man, with plenty of tact and knowledge of the world. It would
be difficult for the most rascally of shipbuilders to get the better of
him. He was also favored by good fortune, insomuch as the honesty and
skill of the builder of his yacht were concerned. He tells me he saved
twenty five per cent. in the actual cost of the vessel if built anywhere
in the neighborhood of New York. Moreover, he got a boat capable of
being classed in the highest standard at Lloyd’s and good for a quarter
of a century’s hard cruising. Having seen the boat put together, he
never felt anxious about straining her in a squall. There was no
skimping of quantity in material to procure a flimsy kind of lightness.
Hull, spars and rigging were all scientifically adapted to the heaviest
strains they were likely to encounter, and a sufficient margin of extra
strength was added in case of emergencies. The schooner has been in
commission now for several years, her owner living aboard her
practically all the year round. He has cruised south as far as the
Caribbean Sea and north to Labrador. He is his own skipper, and a better
seaman and navigator never broke a biscuit on his knee or drank grog out
of a pannikin.
The only objection that can be made against iron or steel yachts in the
larger classes is that their bottoms foul so rapidly. So far as their
capacity to resist stress and strain is concerned, nothing can be said
against them. The first English iron yacht was the _Mosquito_, designed
by Tom Waterman and built on the Thames in 1848. The first American iron
yacht was the cutter _Vindex_, designed by Mr. A. Cary Smith in 1870 for
Mr. Robert Center.
Nickel steel, as its name implies, is an alloy of steel with nickel. It
possesses all the qualities of steel for shipbuilding purposes, but it
has, in addition, a breaking strength of forty tons to the square inch,
as against twenty-seven for ordinary steel. The twenty-rater _Dragon
III._, built in 1893, had frames and beams of this metal, which I think
is destined to be much used in the construction of racing yachts.
The composite system of construction, namely, steel or iron frames and
wooden planking, is in my judgment open to objection. The frames of a
racing yacht are of course as light as the naval architect dares to make
them in his effort to reduce weight in every detail of hull, spars and
rigging. When it comes to pass that the seams of a composite yacht
require calking, the strain of driving the oakum home produces such a
pressure on the bolts that fasten the planks to the frames that they
snap off.
The composite system was introduced in 1860 on the Clyde, many China
clippers being built after that plan. Among the first composite yachts
were _Nyanza_ and _Oimara_, built by Robert Steele & Co., of Greenock,
about 1867. All the large racing yachts of the present time that are not
constructed of metal have steel frames, as a sufficiently light wooden
frame could not sustain the immense strains of the large sail plan and
the heavy weight of the outside lead.
If a man sets his heart on having a composite vessel he should take care
that her skin is of double construction, one layer of plank overlapping
the other, with a liberal luting of white lead between. Thus no calking
whatever is necessary; the vessel is tight as a bottle and much stronger
than if the old-fashioned plan is followed. The only objection is the
expense.
John Harvey, the English yacht designer and builder, who was first to
introduce the double-skin system in yachts, told me once that many
composite yachts were hauled out in his yard at Wivenhoe to be repaired.
He had been inside several of them when being calked, and seen the nuts
break off and roll down in the bilges by the score as the oakum driven
by the calking iron wedged the planks apart. This result is so obvious
that it requires no further comment.
It may well be urged that it is scarcely worth while to incur so much
more expenditure of hard cash on a boat that may be obsolete, so far as
racing is concerned, after two or three seasons; and this argument will
probably prevail with the average yacht owner. I consider it my duty,
nevertheless, to call attention to the defects of the system generally
in use, and to the advantages of the double skin; and I will give two
striking illustrations which I think will prove my case.
[Illustration:
“UNCAS” ON THE WAYS.
]
Mr. Coate’s smart 10-ton cutter _Madge_, designed by Mr. G. L. Watson,
was a single-skin craft. She was built in 1879 and created a great
sensation when she came to this country and beat all our skimming
dishes. In 1890 she was almost ready to fall to pieces, and her rickety
frame had to be strengthened with iron knees and fitted with new
topsides. In 1894 she was condemned as unseaworthy and fit only for the
junkman.
On the other hand we have the cutter _Oriva_, designed by John Harvey
and launched in 1881. She is of the double-skin construction, lighter in
proportion to her size than _Madge_, and to-day she is as strong and
stanch as she was when she was launched.
If the prospective builder decides to use wood as the material for his
boat, he will find that American elm is the best material for the keel
and the garboard strakes. When entirely submerged, elm will last for
half a century or more, but is especially liable to decay between wind
and water.
White oak should be used for the stem, sternpost, knightheads, apron,
deadwoods and futtocks. The timbers should be of oak or hackmatack, and
the planking of yellow pine. This material, if well seasoned and
properly put together, should insure a sound boat. Yellow-metal
fastenings should be used below the water-line, if the expense is not
too much for the owner’s purse. If that should prove the case,
galvanized iron may take their place. Personally, I believe in having
the hull as perfect as possible. I would dispense with costly
gingerbread work below deck, having everything cozy and attractive, and
would expend the extra money, thus saved, on hull, spars and rigging,
yellow-metal fastenings being my first object. Of course, if I were
building a “freak” for a couple of seasons’ sport, I wouldn’t use a
fragment of copper in her construction.
It is well to bear in mind that there is absolutely no market for an
outclassed racer. For that reason I cannot recommend the expenditure of
much money on the construction of a craft whose life in the usual course
of events is limited to perhaps three seasons. Double skins and copper
fastenings would be absurdly out of place in such craft. But when a man
builds a cruiser, there is no reason why she should not be as sound and
strong as a judicious expenditure of money can make her.
There is much to be said for and against copper sheathing for the bottom
of a racing yacht. For some reason or other it has never been popular in
this country. It was first used in 1761, when the British warship
_Alarm_ was coppered at Woolwich.
Mr. G. L. Watson is authority for the statement that, as early as 1834,
a metal keel was fixed on the _Wave_, built for Mr. John Cross Buchanan
by Messrs. Steele.
The man desirous of obtaining distinction in the arena of yacht racing,
supposing he decides to build a yacht of his own so that the luster
appertaining to her achievements shall be inevitably associated with his
name, should, in the first place, have a full and businesslike
understanding with his designer, who will only be happy to meet him half
way and will cheerfully name the honorarium for his draught. The
designer supplies drawings, plans and specifications, and supervises the
work of the builder.
The builder’s duty is to furnish an estimate of the cost of such yacht,
which estimate, if accepted by the yachtsman, should be embodied in an
agreement that takes the legal form of a contract, after being signed.
The agreement should specify:
1—That the yacht shall be constructed according to specifications and
drawings furnished by the designer, complying with all requirements
therein set forth regarding material and workmanship, and that all work
shall be completed to the satisfaction of the designer and surveyor (if
any).
2—That the yacht shall be delivered to the owner on a certain date
afloat and complete, and in default of completion by such date, the
builder shall pay a certain stipulated sum for each and every day
afterward during which the yacht remains incomplete and undelivered, for
liquidated damages, the owner being empowered to deduct such damages
from the price of the vessel.
3—That the builder shall be paid by the owner a certain sum on the
signing of the agreement, a further sum when the yacht shall be in
frame, yet another sum when the yacht is timbered and planked, and the
final payment when the yacht is completed to the satisfaction of the
designer and surveyor, and delivered to the owner ready for sea.
4—All damage to the yacht, through fire or any other cause whatever,
previous to her delivery to the owner, shall be made good by and at the
expense of the builder, and to the satisfaction of the designer.
The specification should fully set forth the dimensions of the yacht and
the material to be used in her construction. As an example I append the
general specifications of the _Uncas_, one of the three one-design
46-foot schooners designed by Mr. A. Cary Smith in 1898:
General Dimensions.—Length over all, 64ft. 2in.; length on l.w.l.,
46ft.; beam, extreme, 16ft.; draft without board, 6ft. 6in.; least
freeboard, 3ft. Specifications: Keel, white oak, molded, 5½in.; stem,
white oak, sided, 4½in.; sternpost, white oak, sided, 5in.; frames,
hackmatack, double, sided 2in., molded at keel 3½in., at planksheer
2¼in.; floors, sided 2½ right and left; trunk log, sided 6in. and
molded 10in., bolted with ⅝ galvanized iron; sides of trunk, yellow
pine and white pine, 2x8in., bolted with ⅝ galvanized bolts;
centerboard, oak and yellow pine, bolted with ⅝ galvanized iron; pin
and hanging to be of brass; ballast to be of lead furnished by owner,
20,000 lbs. in all, 18,000 on keel bolted with ¾in. Muntz metal bolts,
25 in number; planking of yellow pine, spike fastened; clamps, yellow
pine, 2 in number, 1½x6in.; shelf, same, 5x2in., worked to shape, 1
through bolt on each frame; bilge strakes, yellow pine, 3 on a side,
1½x6in.; ceiling, only where cabin work calls for it, ¾in. pine; deck
beams, white oak, sided 3in., molded 2⅜in.; partner beams and house
beams to be sided 6in.; partners, hackmatack, kneed with same;
planksheer, white oak, 1¾x7in.; deck plank, white pine, 1¾in. thick by
2¼in. wide, spiked; bulwarks, pine; stanchions, white oak; trunk
cabin, tongued and grooved sides, 1½x3in., with wrapper; trunk deck,
tongued and grooved stuff, 1½in., covered with canvas; hatches and
slides, mahogany; bitts, locust; windlass, pump brake; anchors, 120
lbs., 160 lbs.; chains, 70 fathoms, ⅜ tested.
[Illustration:
“OUANANICHE.”
]
All chocks and kevels as required; steerer, Perley patent, mahogany
wheel about 30in.; tanks, galvanized iron, to hold about 200 gals.;
pump in galley basins to discharge in receivers (bilge pump); one
small tank on C. B. trunk.
Masts and spars of best spruce; rigging, best cast-steel wire rope and
manila; sails to be as follows: mainsail, foresail, forestaysail, jib,
small jib, small jibtopsail, second jibtopsail, spinnaker, two
gaff-topsails, small maintopmast staysail; blocks of white ash; iron
work of all kinds, of best iron galvanized; awning stanchions
galvanized; joiner work to be of tongued and grooved stuff, where it
will not be seen, and the rest to be paneled, of white pine, all to be
of ¾ stuff; to be painted with three coats of paint.
The 21-footer _Ouananiche_, designed by Mr. T. E. Ferris and built at
the same yard as _Uncas_, is an excellent example of the modern type of
boat. Her accommodations are good and she is both fast and able.
The specifications may also include the cabin fittings and all
furniture, upholstery for berths, and ship stores generally, not
including edibles. It is more satisfactory to the owner to have an
estimate of the total cost of the craft complete and ready for sea.
The owner too frequently suggests changes from the specifications,
which, in all cases, entail considerable expense. These alterations are
quite justly charged for by the builder as “extra work;” and if the
owner is a good hand at “suggesting,” as the tyro generally is, the bill
for “extra work” makes a big item when the final account is rendered. I
have known it to amount to as much as $500 on a $2,000 craft. Sometimes
vexatious litigation follows.
All this trouble may be avoided by having a clause inserted in the
contract to the effect that no work done on the yacht without a written
order, signed by the designer and countersigned by the owner, shall be
deemed extra work. The careful builder will insist on such a clause if
he is alive to his best interests.
A yacht, in the interesting process of construction, possesses a sort of
hypnotic attraction to the man it is being built for. He haunts the
shipyard from the hour the men turn to in the morning to the time they
knock off at night. Naturally, he is anxious to know how she progresses.
If he were a wise man he would keep religiously aloof from the scene of
operations, and leave the work of inspection and supervision to his
naval architect. These remarks apply only to the tyro, who is usually as
proud of his first yacht as a young mother of her first-born. With old
stagers it is different.
On the day of the launch it is customary for the owner to buy liquid
refreshments for the workmen in the shipyard. The naval architect, too,
feels hurt if he does not receive a personal invitation to the ceremony
and a seat at the collation which follows the launch.
If a man has neither the means nor the inclination to build a boat of
his own he need not despair. There are always in the market a number of
serviceable boats. A shrewd buyer, if he keeps his weather eye open, may
pick up a rare bargain. It is his own fault if he gets the worse of the
transaction. Given a good designer and a good builder in the first
place, he may safely conclude that the craft he has his eye on was not a
“gingerbread” boat when she was launched.
[Illustration:
“DRAGON III.”
]
Unless the purchaser is well versed in boats I should by all means
advise him to have the craft surveyed by a competent man, whose charge
will be moderate. It is sure to be money saved. A boat with a bulb fin
or a heavily weighted centerboard is peculiarly susceptible to strains
and wrenches which a tyro would be likely to pass over, but which would
be clearly apparent to the unerring eye of an expert professional.
Sometimes a man who thinks he is built on the lines of a yachting
enthusiast joins a yacht club and builds a boat in a fashionable class.
After a few weeks he discovers that all his enthusiasm has evaporated;
that he takes no interest whatever in the sport. His next course is to
offer his craft for sale. He is often so disgusted that he lets a
purchaser have her for a song. This is a shrewd man’s opportunity, and
he should not let it escape. It is not often, however, that such
windfalls come in one’s way, in spite of the old adage that a simpleton
is born every minute.
Let me in all seriousness conjure you never to buy or launch a yacht on
a Friday! If you do, you will surely rue it. The superstitions of old
sailors are not to be despised. It is quaint and curious that
superstition of the sea about the lucklessness of Friday, but I for one
most devoutly believe in it. I have reason, too, for on one fine Friday
morning, ever so many years ago, I set sail from the port of Sunderland
in the stout brig _Goshawk_, hailing from the port of Shoreham, with
Captain Cuddington in command. On Sunday morning we were ashore on the
Long Sand in a howling gale, and the brig went to pieces in six hours. I
was saved with others of the crew by a smack from Harwich, in charge of
brave John Tigh, but a poor boy, just fresh from a Sussex farm,
perished. I shall always remember that day. There were two life-buoys
aboard, and these the captain and the cook secured. The instinct of
self-preservation was strong, no doubt, and it was not an era of heroes.
I was a romantic child at that time, on my first sea voyage, and fresh
from a course of “The Three Musketeers,” “Monte Cristo,” and other such
entertaining literature. I thought then that we two little frightened
boys would have been allowed the safeguard of the life-buoys. Now I know
better.
[Illustration: [Sunrise]]
III.
THE TYPE OF YACHT.
WHAT SHALL SHE BE—KEEL, CENTERBOARD, OR BULB-FIN?
When we come to consider the type of yacht most desirable to buy or to
build, the problem is perplexing. We must in every case be guided by
circumstances. For instance, a deep bulb-fin boat for racing or cruising
on the shallow waters of the Great South Bay would be manifestly out of
place. Nor would a sharpie be the most desirable class of craft for use
on the deep water of the lower Hudson. Locality is what must guide us in
our choice. Build or buy a boat suitable for the work she is intended to
do.
Remember that nearly every type of craft, keel, bulb-fin, centerboard or
double-huller, has some good qualities to recommend it. For cruising, a
keel yacht of moderate draught, so as to be able to enter harbors where
the water is comparatively shallow, may be recommended. A centerboard
vessel for the same purpose, to those who prefer the type, holds further
inducements. A wholesome knockabout for general purposes, fishing and
class-racing affords lots of sport. A modern fin-keel for racing only
cannot be surpassed. So out of these various types you have only to
choose. It is not necessary in this connection to sing the praises of
the keel type. It speaks for itself. For speed and safety it is equally
adapted. In war and in commerce as well as in yacht racing it has made
its mark.
[Illustration:
“GLORIANA.”
]
There are a number of yachts which without exaggeration or affectation
may well be characterized as epoch-making vessels. First comes the
schooner _America_, which revolutionized yacht naval architecture in
Great Britain. Then follows _Evolution_, the parent of the bulb-fin type
of to-day. Next comes the Scotch cutter _Madge_, which was responsible
for the decline and fall of our unwholesome “skimming-dish” type.
_Puritan_ is next—a compromise between the two extremes of deep cutter
and shallow centerboard. It should be remembered in connection with this
boat that she combined the factors of outside lead, moderate draught and
ample beam, and was in every way a new departure, reflecting great
credit on her talented designer, Mr. Edward Burgess. _Gloriana_ was as
pronounced a departure as _Puritan_, her famous spoon-bow and immense
overhangs arousing all the British designers and causing them to steer a
new course. Her influence was quite as great as that of _America_. She
made Nat Herreshoff famous.
[Illustration:
“MADGE.”
]
The remarkable feature of _Gloriana_ was that while her length on the
load water-line was 45 feet 3 inches (she was built for the 46-foot
class), her length over all was 70 feet. As the fullness of the bilge
extended to bow and stern, the more she was inclined, the greater was
her water-line length. I never saw a stiffer yacht. Her record for her
first season (1890) was eight starts and eight first prizes. _Dilemma_,
the Herreshoff fin-keel, may also be described as an epoch-maker, as her
form and her fin were speedily adopted and adapted by British designers.
It will be noticed that all the yachts enumerated, except _Puritan_ and
_Dilemma_, are of the keel variety.
The long reign of what may be termed the demoralized centerboard type is
happily over. It is really a matter of marvel that the shoal hulls of
great beam, destitute of a safe range of stability, and carrying a
dangerous spread of sail, did not oftener turn turtle and cause a
greater loss of human life.
The Hudson River freight sloop was a safe and well-built craft, well
adapted not only for the commerce of our coasts but also for long ocean
voyages. So far back as 1785 the _Albany_, an 84-ton sloop, Stewart
Dennis master, made a voyage to Canton, returning with a cargo of tea.
Between 1790 and 1800 there were about a hundred sloops plying in the
freight and passenger trade between New York and Albany, and proving
fast and able. These packets flourished until steam drove them out of
the business.
[Illustration:
THE GERM OF THE CENTERBOARD.
]
The centerboard, an improvement on the Dutch leeboard, first used on the
Hudson about 1830, has since been a necessity because of the shallowness
of some of our harbors; and there is no reason why it should not
continue to be popular, if the model is of sound design and the
construction strong. Every objection against the centerboard system may
be met by the argument that a large proportion of our coasting schooners
on the Atlantic seaboard are fitted with centerboards, and ply their
calling winter and summer, in storm and calm, and the unerring test of
their seaworthiness is that the underwriters do not look upon them as
greater risks than those of the keel variety. A marine underwriter is
generally shrewd and businesslike, and keeps a close watch on the
statistics of maritime losses. If it were proven by the wreck returns
that centerboard vessels were more prone to succumb to the perils of the
raging main than the craft not built with a movable fin, the inference
is obvious, the premium of insurance would be graded to meet the risk.
[Illustration:
“VESTA.”
]
I think that this argument will appeal to all people of common sense,
and will settle the question of the relative safety and seaworthiness of
the two types. But there is this to be said on the subject, that very
much difference exists between a craft constructed for carrying coal and
another built for the purpose of pleasure. I think it may be averred
without error that the early centerboard yachts were, as a rule, modeled
by shipwrights who had a due regard for the factor of initial stability
as well as strong hulls scientifically put together. But, step by step,
a school of naval architecture came into vogue, so far as centerboard
yachts were concerned, in which most of the sound principles of yacht
designing were totally ignored. Mr. W. P. Stephens, in an interesting
and scholarly paper read before the Society of Naval Architects and
Marine Engineers in 1895, well says:
“The centerboard lent itself as a willing accessory to the sacrifice of
that depth which is essential to a safe range of stability, mere
sail-carrying power being derived from an excess of beam, which was but
an additional element of danger. In the search for speed under special
local conditions, mainly those of summer racing, the true principles of
naval architecture, so apparent in the work of George Steers and others
of the earlier designers, were utterly ignored, and a most dangerous and
vicious school of designing prevailed throughout American yachting.
“Taking the centerboard sloop and schooner as they were up to
1880—dangerously shoal and wide in model; often clumsily built of soft
wood, with the poorest of fastenings; faultily ballasted with stone and
iron inside; the hull inherently weak in form from the great beam and
lack of proportionate depth; the entire middle portion of keel and
floors cut away, with the familiar ‘hinge joint’ where the mast was
stepped, just forward of the trunk; and with the deck construction made
worse than useless as an element of strength through the absence of all
beams in the middle portion of the vessel and the presence of a great
superstructure, the cabin trunk—the accepted laws of naval design and
construction fail to give any reason why such craft capsized no oftener
and kept afloat as long as they did; and we can only fall back for an
explanation on the doctrine of a special providence.”
Mr. Stephens is not only a naval architect, but also a practical
shipwright, and therefore, his scathing arraignment of the centerboard
type must be taken as emanating from his ripe judgment and long
experience. It must be remembered, however, that he is a pronounced
advocate of the keel type, and has long waged war against the
centerboard. So far as his denunciation applies to the vicious and
exaggerated variety I agree with him, heart and soul. But I am not
prepared to condemn the whole class because of the glaring imperfections
to be found in examples.
It must be borne in mind that without the aid of the centerboard the
pastime of yachting would be impracticable on innumerable sheets of
shallow water, both salt and fresh, to be found in North America. With
that point in view, the abolition of the vicious element in the type,
and its succession by a sound and seaworthy class of pleasure craft,
should be the aim of all yachtsmen. And since the year 1880 great
strides have been made in that direction. I have witnessed with joy the
decadence and abolition of the “sandbagger,” a craft of immense beam,
shallow draft, and big sail plan. The sandbagger was the ideal racing
machine of twenty five years ago. Its place has been taken by the
fin-keel. I wonder if the fin-keel is destined to be succeeded by the
double-huller, such as _Dominion_, which made her début in Canada in
1898?
In the course of the same paper Mr. Stephens also says: “To us familiar
with it [the centerboard] from our earliest knowledge of the water, the
striking characteristics of the type appeal with little force; but if,
with our knowledge of the sea, of naval instruction, and of the strains
and stresses to which every vessel is subjected, the idea were laid
before us, for the first time, of a vessel with the entire backbone and
floor construction cut away for the middle third of her length, devoid
of deck frames almost from mast to rudder-post, with a great box
amidships open to the sea, and with a thin, movable plane projecting
deep below the bottom, it would be strange if the majority would not
condemn on sight a combination so unmechanical, so lubberly, and so
dangerous.”
But Mr. Stephens gives the other side of the question also. He says: “In
the hands of competent and honest shipwrights the centerboard coasting
schooner has disproved all theories as to the non-utility of the type
for seagoing purposes: in a hull of moderate first cost and running
expense it has carried swiftly, safely and profitably its cargoes of
coal, lumber, sugar, firewood, barley, bricks, or general freight, both
on the lakes and on the Atlantic, up and down the ‘Beach,’ across
Nantucket Shoals, and around Hatteras in winter, light or loaded, taking
in and landing its cargoes in localities inaccessible to the keel
vessel. In the ocean coasting trade it has been and still is a powerful
factor for good; and in the local trade it has been a Godsend to the
small farmer or miller or lumberman, carrying his product cheaply and
safely from his own small creek or bay to a profitable market. In the
face of such practical results all theories as to the initial weakness
of the centerboard type or its inferiority as a seagoing vessel must
stand aside; numerous instances of bad design and construction may be
found, it is true, but they prove nothing against the type itself in
capable hands.”
This last extract gives a fair presentment of the whole question. It is
by practical results that the centerboard yacht must be judged, as well
as the centerboard coaster. I believe that the centerboard has been
beneficial to the sport of yachting. I will go further, and will say
that without the board yachting could not possibly have attained the
great popularity it now enjoys in this country.
Viewing the subject broadly, I see no reason why the centerboard should
not be good for centuries to come in honest cruising and racing,
especially in classes of moderate size. The keel will probably bear off
the palm in the larger classes of cutters and schooners, but for craft
in the thirty-foot class and under, the centerboard has advantages which
the bulb-fin in my judgment does not possess. Those who care for speed
alone and whose ambition it is to acquire a stock of more or less
inartistic silverware, will continue to pin their faith to the fin.
Others who like to enjoy a modicum of comfort when afloat may safely
swear by the centerboard.
When I was a young man I had an unconquerable prejudice against the
centerboard. My opinion of the type was often expressed in language of
great warmth and strength. Mind you, I was not so utterly devoid of
common sense as to be blind to the advantages of the “board” in shallow
water. I had, however, a fixed idea that the average centerboard sloop
was no good in a blow. This view has been considerably modified in the
school of experience. It once fell to my lot to be an eye-witness of the
excellent seaworthy and speedy qualities of a centerboard sloop in an
easterly gale on Long Island Sound. When we reached port I was perfectly
willing to confess that a vessel of the type aboard which I had been, if
well-found and well-manned, was equal to any keel boat of her size that
I had ever sailed on.
Permit me to spin you the yarn:
The cruise of the Atlantic Yacht Club in 1889 will always be remembered
because of the bad weather encountered on the Sound between Black Rock
and New London. In that year Jefferson Hogan was Commodore and the
schooner _Cavalier_ was the flagship. I was the guest of Vice-Commodore
E. B. Havens on his stout sloop _Athlon_, a remarkably fast and able
craft in heavy weather, but by no means speedy in light airs. She was
built by Mumm, at Bay Ridge, for Dr. Barron. Mr. Havens bought her and
lengthened her six feet, adding a handsome “Burgess stern,” which
improved her appearance wonderfully. I joined the _Athlon_ at Black
Rock, Conn., on Saturday, July 13th, and, after passing Sunday very
pleasantly, turned in early, as the orders were to get under way next
morning at five o’ clock, the early start being necessary, as our
destination was New London, distant nearly fifty miles to the eastward.
I recall that, as we were enjoying our pipes on deck preparatory to
going below for the night, the weather looked dirty and the barometer
was falling.
The guests of Mr. Havens besides the writer were Mr. Levi Burgess and
Mr. Havens, Jr. All of us were capable of lending a hand in an
emergency, and when the time came we did our level best.
[Illustration:
“ATHLON.”
]
The preparatory gun from the flagship aroused us next morning at an hour
when the early birds were still roosting. Going on deck we found a light
wind blowing from east-northeast and a drizzling rain falling. The sky
looked threatening, and all round the horizon black and angry clouds
were clustered. A glance at the aneroid in the companionway showed a
fall of two-tenths of an inch during the night. While the men were
sweating up the peak and throat halyards and heaving short on the anchor
chain, Mr. Burgess and I sneaked below and interviewed the steward, with
the result that we each got outside of a cup of fragrant coffee mellowed
with some remarkable old cognac, carried on the _Athlon_ for medicinal
purposes only. Fortified with this we joined our shipmates on deck,
giving an imitation of two men looking eagerly for work and praying to
the gods not to be successful in the quest.
“Shall we get the jibtopsail out of the sail locker?” inquired young Mr.
Havens of his father.
“I guess the weather looks more like a double-reefed mainsail than a
jibtopsail,” was the reply. So the jibtopsail reposed in the locker.
Bang! went the gun from the _Cavalier_. It was the signal to start.
Anchors were broken out smartly, jibs were hoisted, and the squadron
sailed out of the harbor and began the long and dreary beat to New
London in the chilly, pelting rain.
As I remarked above, the _Athlon_ requires a strong breeze to start her,
and, although our anchor was up in good time, the smart sloop
_Anaconda_, with Mr. Prague at the helm, looming up like a gray ghost in
the mist, glided past us and assumed the lead of the fleet. The
_Anaconda_ was the only boat in her class that ever beat the swift Fife
cutter _Clara_—an achievement that speaks volumes in her behalf.
“Our turn will come by and by,” tersely remarked Mr. Burgess. Events
proved that he was a prophet.
Presently the _Anaconda_, far out to windward, was struck by a savage
squall. Down came her flying kites by the run. I looked at her through
the glass and saw her heel over until the water boiled and bubbled on
her lee deck. All was now activity on the _Athlon_. The boats were swung
in and everything was made snug for the approaching gale. Mr. Havens
determined not to reef till the last moment, and just before the squall,
with its long line of white water in marked contrast with the murky
clouds above, smote us, we clewed up the gafftopsail. It wasn’t an
instant too soon. Had that topsail been set when the blast hove us down
nearly on our beam ends the topmast must have snapped off short, like
the brittle end of a carrot. Mr. Havens was steering. He gave her a few
spokes of lee helm and kept her shaking in the wind till the first fury
of the squall was exhausted. It was almost as dark as pitch for ten
minutes. When it cleared up a little we cast anxious eyes to windward
and to leeward to see what had become of our companions. The _Anaconda_
had snugged down to a couple of reefs. The 40-footer _Chispa_, a
brand-new Burgess boat, was taking it easy under storm trysail and
foresail. The sloop _Concord_ was scudding back to Black Rock under a
bare pole, with the _Fanny_ chasing her under short sail. The schooner
_Azalea_ was having a lot of trouble, and the flagship _Cavalier_ was
making plucky efforts to collect her scattered and stormbeaten convoy
about her.
Just about this time the _Athlon_ began to go. She was carrying her
whole mainsail, jib and foresail. Every now and then a shower of spray
dashed over the weather bow and drenched the Commodore as he stood at
the wheel. The yacht now and again careened to the puffs to such an
extent as to take in green water over the lee coaming of the cockpit. We
passed the _Chispa_ as if she was at anchor, and soon began to forereach
on the _Anaconda_. Under the pressure of the gale the masthead fairly
buckled. It was a case of carrying on sail with a vengeance, but the
Commodore had confidence in his craft, and Mr. Burgess and I had
confidence in the Commodore, so we went below and drank to the health of
the brave little ship. The steward forsook his kitchen and pantry. He
was too nervous to stay anywhere except on deck. As Byron sings:
He was a man in years,
And long had voyaged through many a stormy sea,
And if he wept at length, they were not fears
That made his eyelids as a woman’s be;
But he, poor fellow, had a wife and children—
Two things for drowning sailors quite bewild’ring.
The wind and sea increased. Lumbering schooners bound to the eastward
showed only a rag of canvas, while the west-bound coasters were under
single or double reefs. Still the _Athlon_ held on to everything,
showing the ability of a representative centerboard sloop to do
wonderful work in heavy weather. At last things came to such a pitch
that we _just had to_ shorten sail. We were knocked down by a squall of
particular violence. Anybody to windward of us might have caught a
glimpse of _Athlon’s_ keel. We hauled down the jib and tied a single
reef in the mainsail, which, being brand-new and soaked with rain and
spray, was hard to handle. At last we got it reefed, and after swaying
up the halyards taut as bars of steel we hammered at it once more.
The gale was dead in our teeth. The other yachts of the fleet had
disappeared, most of them seeking harbors of refuge. The _Athlon’s_
destination, however, was New London, and thither she threshed her way
right gallantly, making a short leg and a long leg along the Connecticut
shore. Never before had I seen so heavy a sea in the Sound, and I had
had a long experience on which to draw.
The crew looked like drowned rats. Every time we tacked, the yacht
shipped a good deal of water as she plunged her bows under in the steep
head sea. It was hard work for all hands, but there was a lot of
excitement in it. By and by we struck a streak of good luck. It was off
Branford Beacon, and it was just one bell in the afternoon watch. The
wind had a trifle more northing in it, so much so, in fact, that our
saucy and stanch little ship was able to lay her course for Bartlett’s
Reef lightship, thirty-five miles distant.
This prospect cheered us up considerably. The steward resumed duty and
gave us a square meal of fine cold roast beef and pickles, which we
washed down with bottled Bass. Thus strengthened, we went on deck and
set the jib, gave her a foot or two of the mainsheet, and, keeping her a
good full, went smoking through the perturbed sea at a great rate. The
whole distance to Bartlett’s Reef, at the entrance of the River Thames,
was accomplished with the _Athlon’s_ lee rail under water. Strong gusts
from the land smote her at frequent intervals. If all her gear hadn’t
been of first-class material, something would have carried away. At
half-past four o’clock we passed the lightship, having made the
thirty-five miles in four hours—a highly creditable performance,
considering the villainous weather we had had.
Our troubles, however, were not over by a long shot. The ebb tide was
running out of New London harbor with the velocity of a mill-race. It
was blowing a living gale dead in our teeth. The beat to the city
against wind and tide was as hard a one as I remember on this side of
the Atlantic; but we drove her at it. Glad enough we were to cast anchor
off the old steamboat landing at six o’clock, thus ending twelve hours
of tough fighting, in triumph. The _Chispa_ arrived at a quarter to
eight o’clock that evening. The rest of the fleet reached port in
straggling order the next day. The _Athlon_ thus had the credit of
beating the whole squadron, including several vessels treble her size.
The _Cavalier_, of course, could easily have made the passage, but
Commodore Hogan felt it his duty to stick to the bulk of the fleet, and
for this he was justly commended. So thus it came to pass that _Athlon_
made the record heavy weather run in her history, covered herself with
glory, and made a convert of me.
I have had some experience of yachtsmen, but I feel bound to say that I
never saw a vessel handled better in a blow than _Athlon_ was by
Commodore Havens on that occasion.
This must be added. If the _Athlon_ had not been well-built,
well-rigged, and her sails good, in addition to being handled most
capably, it is not likely that she would have made such a splendid
record.
[Illustration:
CATBOAT “DOROTHY.”
]
The popularity of the catboat as a racing craft will never die out in
this country. The horseless carriage may supersede the hansom-cab in our
city streets, and the electric launch may usurp the place of the
Venetian gondolas, and drive the gay gondoliers to adopt some other
means of livelihood. But the catboat is destined to survive all such
revolutionary changes, and a century hence it will doubtless be more in
vogue for pleasure, sport and business than it is to-day. In hull and
sail plan it will probably be much improved, but its general type will
remain unaltered. For cruising as well as racing it will never fail of
an array of enthusiastic admirers.
Of catboats there are many varieties. They are plentiful at all
waterside haunts, and as they glide gracefully to and fro they look so
tempting and so easy to handle withal, that the visitor from the woods
or the mountains longs to be afloat in one of them, grasping the tiller
with his left hand, while his strong right arm encircles the slender
waist of his trusting but slightly timid sweetheart. The average catboat
is as safe as a church when sailed by a man who knows how, and the art
of sailing her may soon be acquired. But when a lubber undertakes to
handle her she may become as stubborn as a balky mare and as perilous as
the bottomless pit.
Many who have no liking, inherent or acquired, for the modern racing
freak, whether in the 15-foot, 20-foot or 30-foot class, need not give
up their hopes of acquiring fame in mosquito craft racing. A good, fast
catboat is never out of date, and there are various classes of these
wholesome little vessels in which there is always room at the top. The
best of the racing cabin-cat is that she has not yet degenerated into a
mere machine, but has certain modest accommodations which permit her to
be used for pleasant cruises.
The heavy sand bags, or shot bags, which a few years ago necessitated so
much laborious toil and the carrying of such large crews, are now,
happily, out of date, shifting ballast being barred in nearly all clubs.
The modern cat carries outside ballast, which makes the sailing of her a
pastime, not a perspiration-compelling task, while for handiness in rig
the cat cannot be surpassed.
[Illustration:
“KEWAYDIN.”
]
[Illustration:
THE HERRESHOFF CATBOAT “WANDA.”
]
By many ingenious methods and contrivances the mast is so securely
stepped and stayed that there is now no danger in carrying a press of
sail in a piping blow or a steep head sea. The boat can be sailed along
and permitted to feel the full strength of the breeze without any fear
of springing the mast or straining the boat forward.
Catboats of many kinds there are, from the craft common in the Great
South Bay, with its pleasant but rather flimsy summer cabin, to the
robust boat of Cape Cod, which bravely dares the steep seas of a stormy
coast, and is at her best in a vigorous blow. I don’t know of any craft
of such light draught that can compare with the “Caper” for bad-weather
qualities and general all-around usefulness. She is by no means pretty
to look at, but her appearance can be materially improved without
detriment to her sterling attributes. Mr. F. M. Randall has introduced
to New York a modified “Caper.”
All his boats have been built by the Crosbys, of Osterville, Mass., who
now have a branch shop in South Brooklyn. They have been highly
successful, and with _Ethel_, _Presto_, _Step Lively_, and _Scat_, Mr.
Randall won pretty nearly everything he tried for.
Not less successful was the catboat _Kittie_, designed and built for Mr.
Hazen Morse, by Captain Thos. R. Webber, of New Rochelle. She has a lead
shoe on her oaken keel, through which works her centerboard of Tobin
bronze. Launched in 1894 and sailed by her owner, _Kittie_ won fourteen
first prizes that year, and in 1895 she carried off seventeen firsts.
She is now owned in Galveston, Texas. She is 27 feet over all, 20 feet
on the load water-line, 9 feet beam, draught 2 feet, mast 30 feet, hoist
19 feet, boom 33 feet, gaff 21 feet, and sail area 700 square feet.
The racing catboat is such a fascinating theme that a whole volume might
be devoted to its advantages and possibilities. No finer craft in which
to learn the rudiments of yacht racing can be chosen by an amateur; and
there are several classes, large and small, in which eager rivals
compete from the beginning to the end of the yachting season, offering
many opportunities for the winning of prizes.
A successful racing cat is the 25-foot cabin craft _Wanda_, designed and
built by the Herreshoffs, for Mr. F. T. Bedford, Jr., of Brooklyn. She
is 30 feet over all, 21 feet 9 inches on the load water-line, with 12
feet beam. Her record for 1898 was thirteen starts and thirteen firsts.
_13 Starts._ _13 Firsts._
May 16th.—Norwalk.
May 30th.—Norwalk.
June 25th.—Indian Harbor.
July 2d.—New Rochelle.
July 4th.—Larchmont.
July 9th.—Riverside.
July 14th.—Seawanhaka; won in 30-foot class by eight minutes actual
time.
July 23d.—Norwalk.
July 30th.—Indian Harbor; won on resail.
August 13th.—Horseshoe; 30-foot class by twenty-six minutes.
August 20th.—Huguenot.
August 26th.—Huntington.
September 3d.—Atlantic.
25-foot cabin catboat _Wanda_: 21ft. 9in., l. w. l.; 30ft. o. a.; beam
12ft. Designed and built by the Herreshoff Manufacturing Co., Bristol,
R. I. Owned by F. T. Bedford, Jr., Brooklyn, N. Y.
[Illustration:
MID-SECTION OF “EVOLUTION.”
]
[Illustration:
SHEER-PLAN OF “EVOLUTION.”
]
[Illustration:
LINES OF “JULLANAR.”
]
By a glance at the illustration of _Wanda_ (p. 104) it will be seen that
Mr. Nat Herreshoff, her designer, has introduced the modified form of
fin-keel which he exploited so successfully in _Vigilant_. _Wanda_, in
point of fact, was designed and built to elude the measurement rule in
force at the time of her creation. Like _Gloriana_, when heeled, she
gets the benefit of long overhangs forward and aft, while at the same
time she escapes the penalty of excessive length on the load water-line.
Taking into consideration all her features, it must be candidly
acknowledged that she is the most “scientific” catboat that
“tonnage-cheating” ingenuity ever devised. Both the principles of yacht
designing that worked so admirably in _Vigilant_ and _Gloriana_, namely
the large lateral plane and the increased water-line length, when
heeled, have been embodied in _Wanda_. The result has been a gratifying
success. Catboats of the olden time used to measure about the same
length over all and on the water-line. It remained for Mr. Herreshoff to
produce a boat 21 feet on the water-line with an over-all length of 30
feet.
[Illustration:
“JUBILEE.”
]
[Illustration:
“DILEMMA.”
]
[Illustration:
“NIAGARA’S” LINES.
]
In marked contrast to the _Wanda_ is the catboat _Dorothy_, which is
quite famous, both as a cruiser and a racer, on Long Island Sound. She
is a sturdy boat that can give a good account of herself in a blow, and,
in addition to this most excellent quality, she has a nice roomy cabin,
in which every inch of space is utilized. Her mast is well secured by
means of stays and spreaders, and, as may be seen from the illustration,
her rig is scientific and down to date.
[Illustration:
ENGLISH FIN-KEEL FREAK “NAMELESS.”
]
The _Dorothy_ is interesting as showing the transition stage between the
old-fashioned catboat and the new _Wanda_, which is sure to become
popular as a racing machine, but from her limited accommodations is not
likely to be much sought after as a correct type for mere cruising.
[Illustration:
“ROCKET,” 1851.
]
[Illustration:
“NIAGARA.”
]
I have said before that _Evolution_ was the parent of the ballast fin,
and in an article I wrote for OUTING many years ago I think I made out a
good case. She was designed by Mr. E. H. Bentall, an English
manufacturer of ploughs and other agricultural implements, whose famous
yawl, _Jullanar_, created a sensation when she came out in 1875, from
the circumstance that the deadwood was cut away fore and aft in the most
audacious manner. She was, perhaps, the most original tonnage cheater
ever built, as a study of her plans will show. The cutting away of her
forefoot was followed by Mr. G. L. Watson in his design of _Thistle_,
but he overdid it, leaving the yacht without sufficient lateral plane
for successful windward work. _Jullanar’s_ dimensions follow: Length
over all, 110 feet 6 inches; depth of hold, 12 feet; length on load
water-line, 99 feet; extreme beam, 16 feet 10 inches; draught forward, 1
foot 6 inches; draught aft, 13 feet 6 inches.
[Illustration:
“NIAGARA’S” MIDSHIP SECTION.
]
_Evolution_ was launched in 1880. She was built to sail in the ten-ton
class, and was the first yacht of which I can find any record to carry a
bulb of lead on the keel. The transition to the Herreshoff fin-keel was
natural and easy.
The first yacht to be fitted with a weighted centerboard was _Rocket_,
whose sheer-plan and mid-section are on p. 112.
[Illustration:
“RORQUAL,” TWO AND ONE-HALF RATER, 1894.
]
_Niagara_, a most successful yacht of the bulb-fin type, was designed by
Mr. Nat Herreshoff for Mr. Howard Gould in 1895. She made a splendid
record that year in British waters. She was sailed by Captain John Barr,
who was skipper of _Thistle_ when _Volunteer_ beat her in 1887.
[Illustration:
“DAD.”
]
[Illustration:
“VESPER.”
]
_Jubilee_, a fin-keel, with lead bulb and two centerboards, was designed
by General Paine for a possible Cup defender in 1893. She was 122 feet
over all, 84 feet 6 inches on the water-line, 22 feet 6 inches extreme
beam, and had a draught of 13 feet 9 inches. She competed in the trial
races of 1893 against _Vigilant_, _Colonia_ and _Pilgrim_, and was
unsuccessful.
Fin-keels of the freak variety were produced in large quantities on both
sides of the Atlantic, following each other in quick succession. Two of
English design are shown in the illustrations. One is the _Rorqual_, the
other the _Nameless_. Neither proved successful.
The last five years have been remarkable for the prolific production of
“freaks” and monstrosities, three of which I show, the _Skate_, _Vesper_
and _Dad_, all racing machines. In marked contrast to these abortions is
the Seawanhaka knockabout _Kewaydin_, a wholesome type of boat with many
good qualities to recommend it. I advise all my readers to fight shy of
“freaks,” especially those of flimsy construction.
As a matter of history it may be mentioned that the centerboard schooner
_Vesta_, in the midwinter ocean race of 1866, and the centerboard
schooner _Iroquois_, in the blizzard of March, 1888, both acquitted
themselves admirably, much to the surprise of the prejudiced devotees of
the keel type.
[Illustration:
MONSTROSITY “SKATE.”
]
The double-hull type of craft came prominently before the yachting
fraternity in 1898, and will doubtless be exploited in many ingenious
ways hereafter. The development of a type of vessel whose origin is lost
in the mist of antiquity into a racing machine like the twenty-footer
_Dominion_ attracted the attention of naval architects generally to Mr.
Herrick Duggan, the Canadian yacht designer, who for three consecutive
years has humbled the pride of the Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club by
keeping in Kanuck hands the cherished international challenge cup, won
with singular ease off Oyster Bay in 1896.
[Illustration:
FIG. I. THE “DOMINION,” ON EVEN KEEL.
]
[Illustration:
FIG. II. THE “DOMINION,” HEELED.
]
Mr. Duggan, of course, did not pretend to be the originator of a new
type of sailing craft, but he may safely lay claim to whatever laurels
are due to the faculty of astute adaptation. He succeeded in a field
where others tried and failed. He skillfully modified the principle of
the Malay proa, and introduced its salient characteristics into a vessel
small indeed in the matter of dimensions, but huge when its inherent
scientific possibilities are considered. Since Nat Herreshoff made
practicable the crude fin-keel of former designers, no such interesting
phase of marine architecture has been evolved.
As a matter of historical fact, it remained for Mr. Duggan to revive
interest in the type, and this he did most effectually by the production
of _Dominion_. The craft has given rise to much discussion among
yachtsmen and in the press, both at home and abroad. The point of
sailing in which _Dominion_ excels is close-hauled on a wind or with the
wind abeam. It is then that she sails on her lee hull only, the weather
hull serving the same purpose as the ballast of a “sand bagger,”
enabling her to carry a good press of sail. This is shown by Figure II.,
which portrays her when heeled. With the wind dead aft and both hulls
immersed, _Dominion_ in the races at Dorval was slightly slower than her
rival, her paramount advantage being gained when sailing with one hull
immersed.
_Dominion’s_ dimensions are: Length over all, 35 feet 10 inches; on load
water-line, 17 feet 6 inches; extreme beam, 7 feet 7½ inches; beam, load
water-line one bilge, 2 feet 5½ inches; draught of hull, 10 inches;
draught with board, 6 feet; freeboard, 1 foot; displacement, 1,750 lbs.;
area midship section, total 2.88 square feet; sail area, 500 square
feet.
[Illustration:
“DOMINION.”
]
I remember how fascinated I was as a boy by the perusal of “Lord Anson’s
Voyage Round the World,” telling how that famous English navigator, in
his stout ship _Centurion_, doubled Cape Horn in 1740, visited the
romantic isle of Juan Fernandez, and enriched himself and his
accompanying bold sea-dogs by the capture of a Spanish galleon literally
laden with treasure. Incidentally, the book describes the surprise
experienced by the ship’s company at the first sight of the proa, as
used by the natives of the Ladrones. In a copy of the first edition of
the work, in my father’s library, was a quaint illustration of the proa
under sail, with a plan drawn to scale, from which I made a crude model,
and sailed her on an arm of the sea that washed the beach not fifty
yards from our front door. I was not slow to recognize the advantage of
the type in windward work. It was my good fortune in the year 1870, from
the deck of the East Indiaman _Hurkaru_, bound to Madras, to obtain my
first view of the Singhalese type of flying proa off the coast of
Ceylon. The sight was novel and picturesque, and, being young and
impressionable in those days, it was photographed indelibly on my mind.
The southwest monsoon was blowing briskly and the _Hurkaru_ was
bowling along with stunsails set at a nine-knot gait. It was my
forenoon watch below, and I was suddenly awakened by a shipmate who
invited me on deck to look at the “queerest craft I ever saw.” Turning
out in a hurry I followed him, and from the topgallant forecastle saw
the proa in the act of shooting across our bows. The breeze piped at a
“three-man power,” for that number of lithe and swarthy lascars
straddled the outrigger to windward, hanging on by their eyelids,
after the manner of mariners the seas over. The sail that propelled
this craft was of the sprit variety, but was made of cotton stuff and
not of matting, as was the sail described in “Anson’s Voyage.” She
darted past us, with rare velocity, throwing the spray over her crew
in fine style. There were six or seven of them in the main hull of the
proa, the helmsman steering with a rather long paddle. After she had
cleared the ship’s bows she luffed up sharp and seemed to point almost
in the wind’s eye, the sail sitting quite flat, unlike the sails of
the ordinary “country wallah,” which are, as a rule, of the baggy
kind. I judged her speed at about sixteen knots—certainly not less.
The mast and sprit of her sail were of bamboo, the rigging of kyar.
Subsequently I had several opportunities of inspecting these proas,
and subjecting them to a close examination—notably at Pointe de Galle,
where the _Hurkaru_ touched to take in cargo on her homeward voyage.
[Illustration:
THE DOUBLE-HULLER OF THE PACIFIC.
]
The main portion of the hull proper consists of a trunk of a tree
hollowed out and hewn into symmetrical shape, bow and stern both being
pointed. The bilge of the weather side is neatly rounded, while the lee
side is as flat as the side of a half model of a vessel that is nailed
to a board. Cut a double-end boat in two longitudinally, take one of the
sections and nail on planks so as to form a wall-like side, and you have
a fair imitation of the principle of the main hull of the Singhalese
proa. To this trunk, when hewn into shape, are fastened the topsides,
which consist of planks of suitable length and thickness bound with
lashings of kyar rope, the seams being calked with cocoanut fibre, which
swells when water-soaked. Not a nail is used in the construction of the
craft, it resembling in this detail the famous Masoolah boats of the
Madras coast. In all its essentials the characteristics of the proa of
the Ladrones described by Anson are reproduced. The cigar-shaped log,
which is connected to the main hull by bamboo outriggers (which give the
necessary elasticity) and kyar lashings, is hewn out of a solid and
rather heavy tree. This gives the required stability, and in a strong
breeze pretty nearly all hands “hike out” to windward on it, leaving
only the helmsmen (one at each end) aboard the main ship. It need not be
said that the Singhalese are as nearly amphibious as it is possible for
human bipeds to be.
IV.
FITTING OUT AND TUNING UP.
HINTS AS TO GOING INTO COMMISSION AND MAKING THE CRAFT FIT FOR A RACE.
We will now assume that, either by buying or building, the amateur
yachtsman has come into possession of a craft which he intends to race
this season. If he has had the vessel built to his order, the designer
will have seen that she complies with the specifications, which, of
course, include all gear necessary for her mug-hunting efforts. If he
has purchased a second-hand vessel, after having her surveyed by a
competent naval architect it might be well to learn from him what
repairs, if any, are needed to her hull or rigging. The next thing to do
is to obtain estimates for making the repairs; and unless the yachtsman
is an old hand at the business, and knows approximately what should be
the cost of such work, I should advise him to obtain figures from two or
more concerns if extensive work is called for.
It is unbusinesslike and unsatisfactory to order a master shipwright to
haul a yacht out and make such alterations and repairs as he may deem
requisite, but examples of such fatuousness have been known and have
afforded much profit to lawyers and much unhappiness to clients on both
sides. A shipwright may have views of his own about a racing yacht, and
it is inadvisable to give _carte blanche_ to any builder of ships, or
even of houses.
In these days of progress in yacht naval architecture, to the man of
sentiment there will always be one source of regret. The owner of a
successful yacht that has gallantly won scores of well-contested races
and has proudly flaunted a superb string of racing flags at the close of
her second season, cannot help having an affection for his vessel,
especially if she was designed and built to his order. To think that
after a few short seasons she has become outclassed—a regular back
number—naturally awakens many sad reflections.
Old-timers remember that racing craft, when their cup-winning days were
over, were converted into comfortable cruising craft, fishing-boats, or
pilot cutters. Nowadays such a transition is impossible. In many cases
an expensive fin-keel is outclassed in a single season, and I have yet
to learn what use she can be put to when her career after cups comes to
an inglorious finish. Her lead, metal bolts, spars, sails and rigging
may fetch a fraction of their first cost in a junk-shop; but few
yachtsmen would care to buy a vessel of the kind indicated for cruising
or fishing purposes, not only because of the lack of accommodation, but
also on account of the unhandiness of the fixed fin, whose vicious
qualities can never be fully appreciated until one happens to get stuck
in the mud or sand with the tide fast ebbing and no tug in sight or any
other means of hauling off into deep water available.
In the good old days of yacht racing it was customary to lengthen, “hip
out,” rebuild and otherwise alter a boat that showed signs of having
outlived her usefulness, and in a rejuvenated condition bring her to the
line again and with her achieve new conquests. Such a method is rarely
resorted to nowadays. In fact, it is doubtful whether it would pay. Mr.
J. Rogers Maxwell, who owned the schooner _Emerald_, is one of the few
yachtsmen in this country who, of late years, have made extensive
alterations in large racing vessels with any degree of success. He
practically rebuilt the sloop _Shamrock_, and greatly improved her
speed, and has twice made radical changes in the _Emerald_ at great
expense, both processes making her slightly faster.
[Illustration:
SLOOP “GRACIE.”
]
[Illustration: