OSCAR CHESTER TAKES A LESSON IN BOATING.
“I don’t know why it is, but every fellow I ever knew took to boats,”
said Oscar Chester, who had just gone to the helm of the Goldwing.
“The fellows here are just like all the rest of them, and about every
one of them is in the boats. There come three rowboats out of the
river.”
“In Burlington all the boys were anxious to get out on the lake. I was
like all the rest of them; and, as my father was a pilot on a steamer,
I had a better chance than most of them. There is the Goldwing Club,”
added Dory, as the four-oar boat came out of the river.
“What’s the Goldwing Club?” asked Oscar.
“We used to have a flat-bottom boat in Burlington, and we formed a
club. The craft was smashed; and, after I bought the Goldwing, we used
to sail in her. We learned to row, but the club are not doing very
well with their oars,” added Dory, as one of the party “caught a crab.”
“Who is managing that sailboat, Dory?” asked Oscar, as he pointed at
the Monkey.
“Bolly Millweed; but he don’t know how to do it, and he ought not to
come out on the lake without a skipper.”
“That’s just my case, but I am very anxious to learn how to do it.”
“You will soon learn. One sails a boat as he drives a horse: it is
done more by the feeling than by the sight. All you need is practice,
for the science is very simple. But I think we had better come about,
for I am afraid some of those fellows will get into trouble. Bolly has
trimmed his sail in a very careless manner; and, if a puff of wind
should come upon him, he don’t know what to do any more than a baby.
His sheet is made fast too.”
“I don’t know any better than he does what to do.”
“Bolly has the wind on the beam, but he has his sail trimmed to go as
close to the wind as his boat will lie. Now put the helm down, if you
please, and we will come about.”
“Which way is ‘down’?” asked Oscar blankly. “Do you mean down the
lake?”
“It happens to be so in this instance, but that is not what we mean by
‘down.’ ‘Down’ is to leeward. ‘Up’ is the way from which the wind
comes, and ‘down’ the way towards which it blows.”
“Nothing was said about ‘up’ and ‘down’ on the steamer the other day.”
“In a steamer it makes no difference which way the wind blows, and the
terms don’t mean any thing in particular. But, in a sailboat, we
manage her altogether by the wind. Now put the helm down,” added Dory,
as he stood by the sheets.
Oscar did as he was directed; and, as soon as he shifted the tiller,
all the sails began to shake.
“There is some mistake about that,” said Oscar, as he began to restore
the tiller to its former position. “That knocks all the wind out of
the sails.”
“You did just right! keep the helm down!” exclaimed Dory with energy.
“She is doing just as she should.”
“But I don’t see how you are going to sail with the canvas flapping
like this,” added Oscar, as he put the helm hard down again.
“She is in stays now. Wait a moment, and you will see what she does,”
replied Dory.
At that instant the wind caught the jib, and the schooner began to
swing very rapidly. The other sails filled at the same time.
“Now right the helm and meet her,” continued Dory. “Be lively about
it. Carry the tiller over till you feel a strong resistance. Over with
it, before she falls off too far.”
Oscar obeyed, but he had been hardly prompt enough in his movements.
The sails were brought too nearly at right angles with the wind, which
caused her to careen till the new skipper’s nerves were badly shaken.
A bucket of water poured in over the wash-board.
“Down with the helm, Oscar!” said Dory sharply. “The other way!” he
added, springing to the tiller, and putting it hard down.
“You said ‘down’ was the other way,” retorted Oscar in a tone that
indicated anger on his part.
“Now we are all right,” said Dory, laughing, as the boat came up so
that the pressure was eased off the sails.
“‘Down’ can’t be both ways,” growled Oscar.
“But sometimes it is one side of the boat, and sometimes the other,”
replied Dory very gently, for he saw that a storm was gathering in the
breast of his companion. “Sometimes it is port, and sometimes it is
starboard.”
“I don’t see how any one is to know which way is ‘down,’” muttered
Oscar.
“I can tell which is ‘down’ every time, and without fail; and so can
you, after you have sailed a boat a little longer. ‘Up’ is the way the
wind comes from, and ‘down’ is the other way. Before you tacked, you
had the wind on the port side of you, and ‘down’ was to starboard. Now
you have the wind on the starboard, and ‘down’ is on the port side.”
“I don’t think I understand it very well, and you had better take the
helm. I am afraid I shall upset her,” said Oscar, somewhat disgusted
with his experience so far.
“I think the wind is rather too fresh for a first lesson to-day,”
replied Dory, as he took the tiller. “It would be better for you to
try it when there isn’t wind enough to upset her if you make a
mistake. You must excuse me if I spoke too quick to you just now, for
the Goldwing would have gone over in another second if she had had
her own way.”
“I was just beginning to get a little mad,” replied Oscar. “It don’t
take much of a breeze to put me into a passion. But it is all right
now, and I won’t get mad if I can help it. It comes upon me before I
know it. Do you think I shall ever be able to sail a boat?”
“I know you will. I will tack the boat several times, so that you can
see just how it is done. I suppose you know how to drive a horse,
Oscar?”
“Of course I do.”
“If you let your horse run off a steep bank, you will upset the
carriage. A boat won’t do it a bit better. If you let the wind blow
square against the sails, she won’t go ahead; and there is nothing
under the canopy to prevent her from going over, even with less wind
than there is to-day. You should never let her get into such a pickle,
any more than you would drive your horse off a precipice.”
“I can see what you mean. There is nothing to prevent her from tipping
over.”
“On the wind, as the Goldwing is now, we keep her so that the sails
will fill. Just a little movement of the tiller will spill them all:
see if it don’t,” continued Dory, as he put the helm down a very
little. “All the sails are shaking. I keep her so that she bears on
the helm all the time. When the pressure is too little, I know that
she is coming up into the wind, and I shift the tiller.”
“I begin to see through it.”
When he had a good full, Dory put the helm down, explaining his
action. When the jib began to draw, he began to right the helm. Oscar
got the idea; and, after a few more tacks, he understood it perfectly,
and was permitted to do it himself.
“Suppose you get caught with the wind blowing square against the
sails, and are in danger of going, over, what do you do--put the helm
down?” asked Oscar.
“If the wind was fresh I should not wait for her to come up, for she
might go over before she came up to a safe position. Let me take the
helm again, and I will show you.”
The skipper put the helm up, and in a moment the water began to pour
in over the wash-board. Oscar thought she was going over, and he
convulsively grasped the seat with both hands. Dory gave the end of
the fore and main sheets a twitch, in the twinkling of an eye, which
cast them off. The two principal sails ran out instantly, the pressure
was removed, and the boat came up to an even keel.
“That is the way to save yourself when you get into a tight place,
Oscar; but you ought never to get into such a tight place as that. A
boat can’t possibly upset unless she is in that position. But, before
she falls off enough to put you into chancery in that style, she will
bear very hard on the tiller, which will give you warning enough. If
you let go the tiller, she will come into the wind herself. The
Goldwing, or any boat properly rigged and ballasted, would never get
you into such a scrape: you must force her into the dangerous
position. Now you may take the helm.”
In half an hour Oscar could beat to windward as well as an old salt,
though his education as a boatman was by no means completed. The
Monkey, which had been moving at the rate of less than a mile an hour,
had by this time got out into the middle of the lake, where she felt
the full force of the wind.
Like all monkeys, the sloop was behaving very badly indeed; but it was
solely because she was badly handled. Dory was confident she would
meet with an accident; and he required Oscar to come about off Scotch
Bonnet, about three miles below the mouth of the river. After some
manœuvring, he got the foresail on the port side, with the mainsail on
the starboard; and the Goldwing began to fly, wing-and-wing, before
the wind.
The wind had a reach of several miles from the head of North-west Bay,
and there was considerable sea. The schooner rolled, pitched, plunged,
and yawed about at a fearful rate. Oscar found that he had his hands
more than full. He wanted to give it up, but the skipper assured him
he was doing as well as any one could; that all vessels knocked about
like that when running exactly before a fresh wind.
“But isn’t there any danger in staving along like this, Dory?” asked
Oscar.
“None at all if the boat is well handled. If you vary your present
course too much, one or the other of the sails would bang over to the
other side. It would do no harm even then, unless it was the mainsail,
and the boom hit you on the head.
“Then, if you should let her come a quarter way around, you would have
her in that ugly position with the wind at right angles with the
sails, and she would upset. With as much wind as there is to-day, she
will go over every time you put her into chancery; and it won’t be her
fault either.”
Oscar soon got used to the motion and the erratic gyrations of the
boat, and then he enjoyed it. He had been told to steer for a tree on
a hill, and he kept the course remarkably well for a beginner. The
Goldwing had gone two miles in a little over ten minutes, and the
shoal-water of Field’s Bay was ahead of her.
“We must haul up a little, or we shall get aground,” said Dory. “As we
are going squarely before the wind, there is no up or down about it;
and you must put the helm to starboard. But we will do it without
making any sensation,” he added, as he cast off the main-sheet. “The
foresail will pop over to the other side, and do it with a rush. Now,
starboard, very slowly.”
Dory let out the main-sheet, so that the sail did not draw full. Over
went the foresail with a rush.
“Steady! That is, keep her as she is.” Relieved of a portion of the
pressure on the mainsail, she did not heel over much under the shock.
Dory was about to ask Oscar how he would come about, when a tremendous
yell came up the lake from the other students.