Chapter XX (2)

The fin consists of a plate of iron or steel to the base of which is affixed a bulb of lead, which, being in the best possible place, insures stability. The fin proper gives lateral resistance in an almost perfect form, for there is no deadwood either forward or aft and the least possible amount of wetted surface. I remember when a little boy in a fishing village on the bank of a land-locked arm of the sea, where the water was always smooth, how we youngsters came to appreciate fully the worth of an improvised ballast-fin. We used to enjoy the diversion of model yacht sailing and the delights of many regattas. I owned one of the smartest models in the village. She was rigged as a cutter with outside lead, self-steering gear and all the latest maritime improvements, and she generally came out a winner. I tell you I used to put on a great many airs on this account, and as a natural result was duly hated and envied by my playmates, who owned more or less tubby craft that could scarcely get out of their own way.

But the day arrived when my pride was destined to have a fall. A shrewd youth of Scottish extraction came to our village for the summer with his father. He had the keenest, greenest eye you ever saw, and one of those money-making noses that are unmistakable. His whole physiognomy and form indicated shrewdness. He mingled with us for some time on the beach, mudlarked with the boys and watched our model yacht matches with undisguised interest. We all got the notion that he was an inland landlubber, though it is only fair to him to acknowledge that he never told us so in so many words.

One Saturday afternoon, after my little cutter had surpassed herself by distancing all her opponents, I indulged in some unusually tall talk, and challenged each and every one of my rivals to a race across the "creek," as the sheet of water was called, offering to give them four minutes' start, the distance being half a mile.

To my surprise, our green-eyed friend came along and accepted the challenge, saying that on the following Saturday he would produce a craft that would knock spots out of my cutter without any time allowance whatever, and without the aid of a longer hull or larger sailspread. He also remarked that he had a month's pocket money saved up, and was willing to wager it on the result. I accepted his offer without superfluous parleying, and in my mind's eye was already investing that pocket money of his in various little treasures for which I hankered. But, for all that, I made every preparation for the fray, using very fine sandpaper and pot lead till my boat's bottom was beautifully burnished, and seeing that her sails and gear were in tip top racing condition. All the boys wondered what sort of a craft my opponent would bring out. He had never been seen with a boat of any description. We laughed in our sleeves and whispered it about that he would probably produce one of those showy vessels that one sees in the city toy store, and that generally sail on their beam ends.

The hour for the race arrived. The boys were all excited and flocked to the water's edge, whence the start was to be made. There was a goodly throng of them present, and, notwithstanding their contempt for the Scotchman, it was no doubt the desire of their hearts that some of my overweening conceit should be taken down a couple of pegs or so. Presently my rival appeared on the scene, carrying in his arms the queerest looking craft any of us had ever seen. Her hull was shaped like an Indian birch bark canoe, except that to the rounded bottom a keel was fastened. A groove was made in the keel, in which an oblong piece of slate was placed, to the bottom of which a strip of lead was secured. The rig was that of a cutter, and I noticed that her sails were well cut. She looked quite business-like, and when she was measured we found she was two inches shorter than my cutter.

There was a nice, fresh westerly wind blowing, and quite a lop of a sea running for diminutive craft such as were about to race. I had already deemed it prudent to take in a reef in the mainsail of my vessel, and set a No. 2 jib, but my Scotch friend said he thought his boat would carry whole sail without any trouble. The course was south, so the craft had to sail with the wind a-beam. The start was made, my boat being to windward, as I had won the toss. And that was all I did win. The "ballast-fin" craft beat my cutter so badly that even at this distance of time my ears tingle and I feel ashamed. While my boat was burying herself, her rival took the curling wavelets right buoyantly, standing up to her work valiantly, and moving two feet to the cutter's one. We accompanied the model yachts in row-boats, keeping well to leeward, but quite close enough to observe their movements accurately. That was my first experience of the ballast-fin. We all became converts, and shoal, round-bottomed craft, with slate fins to give stability and lateral resistance, were thenceforward the fashion. My successful rival, we afterward discovered, was the son of a naval architect of repute, and he is now practising his father's profession with a good deal of success.

Thus I have not a word to say against the ballast-fin so far as racing is concerned, but in cruising the average man who sails for pleasure wants a craft that he can haul out of the water easily to scrub, clean and paint. Now, if you put a ballast-fin boat on the mud for any one or all of these purposes she requires a "leg" on each side to keep her upright, and also supports at the bow and stern to prevent her from turning head over heels. The stationary fin always represents your true draught of water. It is always with you and is an integral portion of the boat's hull. If you happen to get stuck on a shoal—and this is a contingency that has occurred frequently to the most skillful and careful navigator—in thick weather for instance, your lot is by no means to be envied. This is particularly true if the tide is falling fast. The boat would go over on her side as soon as the water got low enough. The crew and passengers might have to wait aboard until high water, and a precious uncomfortable time they would pass I am certain. When the flood tide made it might be a moot question whether the boat would float or fill with water.

The movable centerplate will always let you know when you get on a shoal, and will in nearly all cases give you warning in time to avoid grounding, which is always an unpleasant predicament and one entailing much labor. Then, again, the anchorages at which small boats can safely lie are generally pretty shallow at low water and the ballast-fin is found to be mighty inconvenient for such places.

V.

THE KNOCKABOUT CLASSES.

The knockabouts, which had their origin in Boston, have much to recommend them. They are free from freakiness. None of them at this time of writing have been fitted with fin-keels to harass their skippers when they come in contact with the ground. They have a moderate sail area, and thus are under control at all times. In a blow one is as safe aboard one of these craft as a converted Chinaman under the lee of his fair Sunday-school teacher at church-time. The variety in vogue in Boston in 1897 was limited to 500 square feet of sail. All were keel boats, 21 feet being the limit of length on the load water-line.

This class gained popularity from the intrinsic excellence of the boats themselves, combining capital cruising qualities with fair speed and good accommodations. Several designers competed, the restrictions governing their construction, dimensions, and sail area being such that the boats were very even in speed, and the contests in which they took part were keen, close, and exciting.

The type of knockabout chosen for the season of 1898 by the Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club and the Westchester Country Club has proved to be quite admirably adapted for cruising and racing. They were designed and built by Mr. W. B. Stearns, of Marblehead, their dimensions being: Length over all, 33 feet; on the load water-line, 21 feet; beam, 7 feet 8 inches; draught, 4 feet; with board down, 7 feet. The area of the mainsail and jib contains 550 square feet. The centerboard is a small one of iron, and houses below the cabin floor. The trunk cabin is 8 feet long, with 5 feet head-room. The price of these boats was $750 complete, and, their construction being sound and strong, they will, if taken care of properly, be good for many years.

It is impossible to speak in terms too high of this class after a surfeit of the racing machines and freaks like the 20-footers whose alarming antics so often amused and amazed us whenever they happened to meet in a reefing breeze. Another good property they possess is that they look like boats when hauled up on the beach, and can never be mistaken when their masts are unstepped for pig-troughs or fish floats. There is no doubt of the seaworthiness of these craft. They are perfectly safe in a northwest squall off Sandy Hook or in a dirty easterly gale on Long Island Sound.

Another craft of this type which was deservedly popular last year is of larger size than the one described above. She is 25 feet on the load water-line, 38 feet over all, with a beam of 8 feet 6 inches, and 5 feet draught with centerboard up. The boat, which was designed by Mr. B. B. Crowninshield, of Boston, has a commodious cabin with six feet head-room, a seven-foot cockpit, and 800 square feet of duck in mainsail and jib. A very able and roomy boat nearly twice as costly as the Stearns craft, but indeed quite a little ship.

SAIL-PLAN OF SEAWANHAKA KNOCKABOUT—550 SQUARE FEET.
]

Personally I favor a short bowsprit in a knockabout, it being convenient for hoisting the anchor, keeping it clear of the hull, and preventing unseemly dents from the flukes.

I fear that knockabouts, or raceabouts, even in restricted classes, are destined eventually to be fitted with fin-keels. As a speed-inducing factor the fin has fully demonstrated its capacity since the first edition of this little book appeared. I have not, however, altered my opinion one iota since my remarks on the ballast-fin made in the chapter which precedes this. In my judgment the fin is admirably adapted as an adjunct to a racing machine, but for cruising craft I like it not. Brand me as an old fogy, if you will; half a century behind the times, if it so pleases you, shipmates, but give me credit for sincerity.

The keen sense of rivalry inherent in every American will not permit him to be content with a good, honest sailing boat for cruising purposes only. If one of his chums comes out with a faster craft, whether a fin-keel or a modification thereof, he will become dissatisfied with his own boat, no matter how seaworthy and comfortable she may be, and will promptly discard her for a new-fangled design in which speed is the principal characteristic. The so-called restricted classes, which are so popular just now, are, I think, sure in the end to become purely racing classes, something after the fashion of the Herreshoff 30-footers now so fashionable in Newport. As racing boats, none afford more sport than these wonderfully smart flyers, and I can well understand what fascinating toys they have proved to their owners. But, after all, they are only toys, vastly expensive, too, with no accommodations for cruising and apt to be uncomfortably wet in a breeze.

The one-design classes of small yachts are not confined to knockabouts only. Cruising schooners, designed by Cary Smith, made their appearance in 1898, and the class, from a modest beginning, seems likely to grow. The features of the boats are their sound and wholesome characteristics. They possess moderate draught, large accommodations, and strength of construction. They are 64 feet 2 inches over all, 46 feet long on the load water-line, 16 feet beam, draught without board 6 feet 6 inches, least freeboard 3 feet. A rather low cabin trunk gives full head-room for the greater part of the yacht's length, the main saloon being more than 13 feet long with a floor width of 6 feet 9 inches. On each side are two berths and two sofas with drawers beneath. There is accommodation in the forecastle for four men. The yachts carry 20,000 pounds of lead ballast, of which 18,000 pounds is on keel. Another one-design division is the Riverside Yacht Club dory class, which has been adopted by many of the clubs enrolled in the Yacht-Racing Union of Long Island Sound. These boats are thirteen feet on the keel, seventeen feet over all, with four feet beam, fitted with a centerboard and rigged with a small jib and a leg-of-mutton sail. They are for single-handed racing, but for pleasure cruising or fishing a man can take his chum along. Fully equipped with oars, sails, etc., they cost about forty dollars, and afford capital sport on fine afternoons. To encourage this little class, prizes worth winning are offered by the club, and sweepstake races are popular features.

The idea was probably taken from the Nahant Dory Club, organized in 1894, which did much to encourage sport in this serviceable and inexpensive class. Spectators will find amusement in watching "green hands" in their maiden efforts at sailing these dories, as strange and startling results often follow the rash experiments of an adventurous tyro. But apart from the comic element, valuable lessons in yacht-racing may be learned by steering and manœuvring a dory against a fleet of half-a-dozen eager competitors. Thus, yachtsmen cannot help approving this new Riverside venture, originated, I believe, by Mr. F. Bowne Jones, of the Regatta Committee.

The origin of the one-design class was Dublin Bay, where the "Water Wag" type was first evolved. A Norwegian praam with a boiler-plate centerboard, combining ballast and lateral resistance, and carrying a big sail, was built in 1878 at Shankhill. She was christened _Cemiostama_ and proved an ideal boat. The conditions were a sloping sandy shore on which the high surf not infrequently broke, and from which the craft had to be launched every time her owner wanted a sail, and onto which she had to be beached after the cruise was finished. _Cemiostama_ was a capital sea-boat; she pointed well, hit what she aimed at, did not sag off to leeward, and was quite fast. When the centerboard, weighing about one hundred pounds, was raised she ran up easily on the beach, resting quietly on her flat bottom. Her centerboard was then lifted out, and her crew of two hauled her up.

The knowing Irish yachtsmen, appreciating a good thing, saw that there was a lot of fun in a boat of this class, and several were built, and many scrub races were indulged in. In 1887 the Water Wag Association was started, the craft being built on the same lines and the sail-area being limited. Their dimensions were thirteen feet in length, with a beam of four feet ten inches, full lines and a flat floor.

The Water Wags are presided over by a king and a queen, bishop, knights and rooks; and although the boats were at first used principally for pleasure, they are now racers pure and simple. Their headquarters are now in Kingstown Harbor, and prizes are put up for them at all the local regattas. They are very handy, too, and quite admirable for the purpose for which they were designed. They cost from $75 to $100, and the rules that govern their races provide that they shall be similar in every respect except sail-plan. The mast must not exceed thirteen feet over all, measured from top of keel to truck; the fore and aft sails must not exceed seventy-five square feet in area, and the spinnaker (which is to be used only before the wind and never as a jib) must not exceed sixty square feet.

Each boat shall carry no less than two or more than three persons in a race, all of whom shall be amateurs. A member or a lady may steer. No prize shall be awarded a boat for a sail-over, but she may fly a winning flag therefor. A pair of oars and a life-buoy must be carried in every race. It is only right to mention that these sailing regulations are vigorously enforced.

The latest one-design class established by our rollicking Irish cousins is known as the 25-footers of the Dublin Bay Sailing Club. These craft are of such noteworthy type as to deserve a few lines of description and approval here, especially as it was wisely decided that the type shall not be altered for five years from January 1, 1898. The boats, of which quite a number were built and raced, are deep-keeled cutters of the following dimensions: Length over all, 37 feet 3 inches; length on load water-line, 25 feet; beam, 8 feet 8 inches; draught, 6 feet 3 inches; lead on keel, 3 tons 5 cwt., and sail area, 845 square feet, divided into a mainsail laced to the boom, gafftopsail, foresail and jib. A second jib, jibtopsail, balloon foresail, spinnaker, storm jib and trysail may also be carried. The design, made by Will Fife, Jr., of Fairlie, is handsome, the type being eminently adapted for Dublin Bay. Restrictions of the strictest kind ensure the boats being exactly alike in size, material, construction and canvas.

The "Mermaids," a craft much used by the B division of the same club, are large Water Wags, 18 feet long, with 6 feet beam, fitted with centerboards, but carrying no ballast, and limited when racing to 180 square feet of sail. These are vastly popular, and a dozen or so race every Saturday afternoon during the season.

Although one-design racing originated on the other side of the Atlantic, it is questionable if any one class has been sailed with more spirit or persistency than were the Herreshoff 30-footers at Newport during the yachting season of 1897 and since.

That the classes are destined to prosper there is no doubt, the only condition being that the type must be carefully adapted to the location for which it is intended, and the more it is available for fishing excursions and pleasure trips the greater favor will attend it. Another helpful feature is the substantial economic gain from the construction of several boats by the same builder from the same design.

VI.

KEEP YOUR WEATHER EYE OPEN.

The sailer of a boat, little or big, should keep his weather eye open all the time. When sailing in a river where the banks are of irregular height he should be especially on his guard, because puffs of considerable violence frequently come with little or no warning. A few inches of sheet eased off, and a gentle luff not quite sufficient to spill the sail, will generally prevent the shipping of water over the lee gunwale, and a possible capsize. Thus the mainsheet should never be made fast permanently, and should always be coiled so as to be clear for running. A neglect of either of these precautions has often been attended with fatal results. If by any mischance the mainsheet becomes jammed do not hesitate, but cut it. A sharp knife in such an emergency has often saved life when an upset has seemed inevitable through the boat being nearly on her beam ends. If you are sailing in a jib and mainsail craft, and the squall has a good deal of weight in it, let fly the jib sheet and let the boat come up in the wind, at the same time lowering away the mainsail and taking care to spill it as it comes down. A reef should then be taken in, and the boat be filled away on her course.

While sailing anywhere in the vicinity of New York, and when one of those heavy thunder-squalls that are so frequent in the summer time is seen rising in the northwest, waste no time. If not in too deep water, anchor at once and stow your sails snugly. You can then ride out the fury of the squall in perfect safety; that is, if your ground tackle is sufficiently strong. If your cable parts and you are on a lee shore and there is a harbor to run for, scud for it under bare poles or with a fragment of sail set. If there is no refuge under your lee, set as much sail as your boat can safely carry and thresh her off shore. The chances are that you will be successful, because these squalls while often very dangerous seldom last long, and are generally followed by a flat calm which is more exasperating than a blow.

We will take it for granted, however, that your anchor and chain are of the correct strength and quality, and that you bring up before the squall strikes you. If you have time it would be well to close-reef your mainsail before furling it, and then you would be prepared for any emergency. But let me impress upon all who are in charge of boats with women and children aboard, that it is their duty, when one of those peril-fraught thunder-squalls is seen approaching, to dowse every stitch of sail at once and let go the anchor. There is a wide gulf between bravado and bravery, and no truly courageous man would imperil the lives of anyone, especially of helpless women and children. The rash carrying on of canvas has been responsible for more loss of life on the water than any other cause. It is a seaman who shortens sail in time, but a lubber who "cracks on till all's blue."

Great caution is necessary when passing under the lee of a vessel at anchor or under way, especially in a fresh breeze. Your boat is sure to get becalmed and may possibly nearly lose her way, so that as she draws clear of the object the full force of the breeze will strike her when she has scarcely steerage way on. The result may be a complete knockdown or even a capsize. Therefore have your mainsheet clear for running, and do not hesitate to let it fly in a hurry before your little vessel's gunwale is anywhere near the water. By all means endeavor to keep clear of vessels at anchor. Do not try to get in the wash of steamboats, as some foolhardy persons do, "just for fun." On the contrary take special pains to avoid them. When you must encounter their wash, which in the case of large and fast steamers is heavy and dangerous, do your best to let your boat take the brunt of the waves on the bluff of the bow. If they strike her broadside on, swamping is a possibility not far remote.

In sailing a boat in rough water the greatest precaution is necessary. A craft that in smooth water could safely carry all sail, might when the sea is perturbed be forced to stagger along under double reefs, the force of the wind being the same in both instances. Especially is this the case when the wind and sea are both abeam, the former strong and the latter heavy. This is probably the most dangerous point of sailing there is, and requires the most careful touch of the tiller. A boat heeled over to fifteen degrees by the force of the wind, by the joint influence of a sudden puff and a heavy roll to leeward may be inclined to such an angle that a capsize is inevitable. When there seems to be any danger of this mishap occurring the helmsman must not close his eyes to keep them warm. When he sees a larger wave than usual coming along he should put his helm up a little, so that it may strike the boat abaft the beam and so reduce the danger to a minimum. The judicious application of weather helm in a beam sea has saved many a big ship's deck from being swept, and many a small boat from being capsized.

It is in my judgment rash to sail a small boat under these conditions unless it is imperative, such as when a harbor is being entered, or when the boat's course must necessarily be steered with wind and sea abeam. I should strongly advise the hauling of the boat on a wind until she reaches the point where her sheets may be eased off and she can be headed for her destination with wind and sea on the quarter. A boat with any pretensions at all can be sailed close-hauled in rough water with safety if certain elementary precautions are observed. Everybody on board except the helmsman should sit amidships in the bottom of the boat, so as to keep the weight as low as possible and the craft herself in her natural trim. No unusual weight is wanted in the bow of the vessel, which should lift in a prompt and lively manner to each sea. In an open boat and a nasty sea no more sail should be carried than will keep her under proper command.

A great deal depends upon the nerve and skill of the man at the tiller. Keep her moving all the time. If a big wave threatens to come aboard over the weather bow, luff smartly into it and meet it as nearly end on as possible. Then up with the helm at once and fill on her again, repeating the process as often as it may be needful. Never let the lee gunwale get under water in a seaway, nor at any other time, but always luff before it is too late, and help her to come up in the wind if necessary by easing away the jib sheet.

If the wind keeps increasing and the sea rising, haul down the headsail and pass a gasket round it, close-reef your mainsail, previously seeing your sea anchor clear for letting go. If you have no sea anchor with you, rig some sort of a raft with oars, boathook and sails, the latter lashed securely to the spars. Make a line fast to this raft and pay out about twenty fathoms and let the boat ride to it as to an anchor. It is surprising what a good effect this contrivance has in breaking the waves and keeping the boat head to sea. Nothing else can now be done until the gale moderates sufficiently for sail to be made and the boat headed for her destination. It may be consolatory to those aboard a craft in such a contingency to buoy themselves up by remembering that some of the heaviest gales known have been safely ridden out in cockleshell boats without any damage to crew, hull or gear.

The sea anchor consists of a hinge-jointed galvanized ring about three feet in diameter. A conical bag made of stout canvas is sewed to the ring and roped, as shown in sketch. A bridle is fitted to the ring, to which the riding hawser is bent. A cork buoy prevents the anchor from diving. When thrown overboard the mouth of the anchor opens and fills. To hoist the anchor on board, the tripping line, shown in diagram, is hauled on. When not in use the ring is folded together by the joints, and the bag is made fast snugly round it.

DIAGRAM OF FLOATING ANCHOR.
]

Another plan for making a floating anchor is shown below. K, M, N, O, are the ends of two iron bars formed into a cross and connected by a stout bolt, nut and pin at their intersection, S. At each end of the bars is an eye through which a strong rope is rove, hauled taut, and well secured. Thus a square is formed, and over the square a piece of strong canvas is laced to the roping. Four ropes are made fast to the iron bars, forming a bridle. To this the riding hawser is made fast. To prevent the anchor from sinking, a buoy, B, is made fast to one corner by a rope, with five or six fathoms of drift. The buoy rope, P, leads on board. H is the hawser to which the boat is riding, A is the anchor, and B the buoy. To get the anchor aboard haul in on the line, P. This will cause the anchor to cant edgewise, and it can then be easily hauled in.

In scudding before a strong wind and a heavy sea in a small craft, a trysail is always preferable to a sail with a boom, which may effect much mischief by trailing in the water or suddenly gybing. The helmsman must be always on the alert to prevent the boat from "broaching to," which means flying up in the wind; or from being "brought by the lee," which means running off so as to bring the wind on the other quarter. A long, narrow boat will always run before the wind better than a short, beamy craft, as she is better adapted for taking the seas, and she also steers easier, not yawing about so much or turning round every few minutes to take a look at her wake. The inexperienced boat sailer should bear in mind that scudding in a seaway is ticklish work, and is not unlikely to be attended with peril. If you have no trysail, reef the mainsail and lower the peak. Hoist on the weather topping lift so as to keep the boom as high as possible out of the water. By no means run a boat before the wind until it blows too hard and the sea is too high to heave to with safety. If the breeze seems likely to pipe up, make up your mind immediately. Delay is dangerous. Have your sea anchor ready. Watch for a smooth. When it comes put your helm down smartly, trimming in the mainsheet. When she gets the wind on the bow, heave your sea anchor overboard and ride to it either with the mainsail set or lowered, as may be deemed best.

If you happen to be on a lee shore, with the surf breaking high on the beach, and you cannot claw off, do not wait until it is too late and your boat is in the breakers. Let go the anchor, and if it holds try to ride out the storm. If your ground tackle gives way, do your best to set the mainsail and steer boldly for the shore. The faster you go the better chance you have to be carried high and dry. Remember that this will give you a fighting chance for your life, whereas if your boat gets broadside on in the breakers she will most likely roll over and over and in all probability drown you and your crew.

It may be thought preposterous for me to advocate the use of oil to break the force of curling wave-crests when a small craft is riding to a raft or sea anchor. Most people would naturally suppose that a boat could not carry enough oil aboard her for it to have any beneficial effect in smoothing a turbulent sea. Nor could it if it was poured into the ocean out of its original package, or out of "bags with small holes punctured in their bottoms," as some marine experts advise. The proper way to apply oil is to fill a round bottomed canvas bag, about two feet long and eight inches in diameter, three parts full of oakum or cotton waste. Do not pack too tightly. Pour into this as much fish or animal oil as the oakum or waste will suck up. Sew the mouth up tightly with palm and needle. Secure a lanyard to it. Make a few holes in its sides with a marlinespike and hang it over the lee bow, and you will be surprised at the result. The seas, instead of breaking over the boat and threatening to swamp her, will become comparatively smooth as soon as they approach the limits of the film of the oil as it oozes slowly out of the bag. When running over a harbor bar where the sea is breaking badly, a couple of these bags suspended from either bow will prevent the waves from pooping the little craft and help her materially in her struggle for existence. Mineral oil will do if no other is available, and a gallon of it will go a long way if used in the manner mentioned above. These bags should be carried all ready for use when cruising, so that all you will have to do is to pour the oil in, sew up the mouths and hang them over the bows by the lanyards. A ship's boat with a dozen men aboard once safely weathered an Atlantic gale by riding to a couple of buckets and a cork fender saturated with kerosene. Pouring oil on troubled waters is by no means a case of bluff or the dream of an opium smoker, but a capital "wrinkle" by means of which many a good man has been saved from Davy Jones' yawning locker. I trust that these little bags will form part of the outfit of all going on long cruises. They may serve as pillows or may be made in the shape of cushions, so long as the above general idea is followed.

As a striking instance of the value of oil in a heavy gale I will quote the case of the British ship _Slivemore_, which took fire in June, 1885, while in the Indian Ocean about eight hundred miles northeastward of the Seychelle Islands. The ship was abandoned and the boats steered for the islands. Capt. Conly, of the _Slivemore_, gave orders that each boat should take aboard two cans of paint oil for use in bad weather, and he also instructed the officer in command of each boat in the use of the oil. Three days after the ship was left the boats encountered a cyclone. Drags made from spars, oars and sails lashed together were rigged, and to these improvised sea anchors the frail craft rode securely. Stockings filled with oakum saturated with the oil were hung over the bows of the boats and formed an oil-slick of considerable expanse. Before the stockings were hung out the boats narrowly escaped being swamped and the men had to bail hard with buckets. The oil prevented the seas from breaking and the boats rode over the enormous waves in safety. Little water was shipped, and those on board the boats were able to lie down and sleep while a tropical cyclone was raging furiously. All the boats reached the islands in safety without the loss of a man, but had it not been for the oil the loss of the _Slivemore_ would have remained an untold mystery of the ocean.

A still more wonderful example of the efficacy of oil is told by the captain of the ship _Martha Cobb_, and it relates to the achievement of a sixteen-foot dinghy. In December, 1886, the _Martha Cobb_, petroleum laden, encountered a heavy gale in the North Atlantic. She shipped some tremendous seas which swept away all her large boats, washed away her bulwarks and played havoc generally with her decks. The only boat that was left uninjured was the aforesaid sixteen-foot dinghy, intended solely for smooth water work.

While laboring and plunging in the mountainous sea, the _Martha Cobb_ fell in with a sinking vessel flying signals of distress to the effect that the water was fast gaining on her and that all her boats were stove in. The captain of the _Martha Cobb_ determined to stand by the vessel in distress, in the hope that the gale would abate. He knew that his little cockleshell of a dinghy could not possibly live in such weather, and that it would be suicidal to lower her and attempt a rescue.

After standing by till near nightfall with no prospect of the storm moderating, the commander of the _Martha Cobb_ determined to make an effort to save the crew of the fast foundering craft. The _Martha Cobb's_ petroleum was in casks, some of which leaked. The captain had noticed that when the pumps were being worked the sea in the wake of his ship was always much smoother. He got the _Martha Cobb_ to windward of the wreck and started the pumps, in the hope that the oil in the well and bilges would create a smooth when it reached the sea, so that the dinghy could be lowered in safety.

He found, however, that the ships drifted faster than the oil, so that while the sea to windward was comparatively smooth the water to leeward was rough as ever. So he kept his ship away, ran down under the vessel's stern and luffed up under her lee. Then he started the pumps and also allowed a five-gallon can of fish oil to trickle into the water through the scuppers. The effect was almost miraculous. In less than half-an-hour the crested surges and breaking combers were converted into long heavy swells such as you see when a calm has succeeded a heavy gale.

The little dinghy was lowered, and manned by three men was pulled to windward alongside the wreck with little difficulty. All hands were rescued, and the tiny boat, while engaged in the gallant work, shipped no water. All this time the waves were breaking furiously outside the magic limit of the oil-slick.

One more illustration and I am done. Capt. Amlot, of the steamer _Barrowmore_, on January twenty-fourth, 1885, while in 51 degrees north latitude and 21 degrees west longitude, fell in with the sinking ship _Kirkwood_. This ship had for part of her cargo several hundred casks of canned salmon. In order to make a smooth and allow the boat of the _Barrowmore_ to come alongside in safety, the crew of the _Kirkwood_ broached a number of the cases, and opening the cans poured the oil from them into the sea. This had the desired result, and although the sea was very heavy the oil reduced it rapidly, and the boat of the _Barrowmore_ had no difficulty in taking off the twenty-six men that composed the ship's company of the _Kirkwood_.

Two quarts of oil used per hour will produce effective results. A ship scudding before the wind, with a mountainous sea running and threatening to poop her, has expended this amount and kept dry. Experts have calculated that this quantity of oil has covered the sea with an infinitesimal film measuring thirty feet in width and ten nautical miles in length. As the thickness of this film is only .0000047 of an inch, its efficacy is indeed marvelous.

A simple and excellent device for distributing oil has been invented by Capt. Townsend, of the United States Signal Office. It is cheap and convenient, and is especially adapted for use in boats or small yachts. It has been thus described:

"It consists of a hollow metal globe ten inches in diameter, with a capacity of about one and a-half gallons of oil. It has an air chamber separated by a partition to keep it afloat in a certain position, and there are two valves. When filled with oil the upper valve is adjusted to allow oil to flow out at any desired rate, while the lower valve admits water. When placed in the sea it floats with the upper valve a little above the surface, and water will enter to displace the oil from the graduated upper valve. The specific gravity of oil will keep it in the upper part of the distributor, and the motion of the globe on the breaking waves or swell will insure the ejection of the oil through the graduated valve in any quantity."

This may be used by towing over the bow when running, or made fast to a sea anchor when hove to.

People inclined to be skeptical are, of course, at liberty to doubt the efficacy of oil to lessen the dangerous effect of heavy seas, but the examples I have quoted are simply a few culled from several hundred well authenticated cases.

The lesson learned from the Shipwash lightship ever so many years ago, has not been without profit and benefit to naval architects. Let me spin you the yarn. The Shipwash lightship is moored in one of the most exposed places on the east coast of England, and is thus continually encountering particularly heavy seas. It came to pass that the old lightship was replaced by a new and scientific vessel. The new-fangled craft was, however, so remarkably unsteady and rolled so heavily that to the storm-tossed mariner beating up the coast her light appeared to be of crescent shape. Her crew got scared. They were afraid she would turn turtle. A surveyor from the Trinity House was sent aboard, and he made a report which was submitted to her designer, who eventually said the fault complained of could be easily remedied by the addition of extra ballast. Accordingly this was done, and the next gale she rode out her rolling was worse than ever, and produced quite a panic among her crew, who were afraid to go below while the storm lasted. Another report was made to headquarters. Other students of naval architecture were consulted, who not only advised that the extra ballast be taken out, but that four tons of lead be attached to the frame or cage supporting the light. These instructions were carried out, and the result was the steadiest lightship on the east coast.

A vessel will carry herself full of coal and behave herself in heavy weather. But when she comes to be laden with copper ore or lead, a certain amount of ingenuity has to be used in the storage of such heavy cargo to make her seaworthy at all. If it were all stowed in the bottom of the vessel she would roll so heavily in a seaway as to get dismasted, and would probably become a total wreck. It is now that the experienced art of the stevedore comes in. The man who follows the proper authorities would construct a bin or compartment in which to stow this dangerous freight thus:

The result would be highly satisfactory. The vessel's center of gravity would be the same as though she were laden with coal, and her movements in a seaway would therefore be quite as easy.

Another man might construct his compartment thus:

The vessel in this case would labor quite heavily on the slightest provocation and would not be so steady or so seaworthy as the one first mentioned, with the narrow bin or compartment extending to the upper deck.

The same remarks apply to the ballasting of yachts. Before the days of outside lead, when pleasure craft shifted their racing for a cruising rig preparatory to a deep-water voyage, it was customary to raise the inside lead ballast by placing layers of cork beneath it, thus ensuring easy movements in a seaway. Racing yachts nowadays have all their weight outside, and this device for their relief cannot therefore be resorted to. When crossing the Atlantic, say for a race for the _America's_ Cup, they are always in danger of getting caught in a gale of wind and an accompanying mountainous sea. In order to prevent excessive rolling, which might endanger the mast and consequently the vessel herself, it is necessary to keep a press of sail set. For this purpose a trysail with plenty of hoist to it is indispensable. It should not be one of those jib-headed impostors that some racing skippers most unaccountably affect, but one with a good long gaff that will successfully prevent the otherwise inevitable and peril-fraught roll to windward.

A yacht under these circumstances, it is true, cannot carry a great press of canvas when on the top of one of those big rollers that a gale soon kicks up in the Atlantic. But she wants as much of her sail area as possible exposed to the gale when she is in the hollow of the wave. Otherwise there will not be sufficient pressure to prevent her from rolling to windward.

Rolling to windward—easy enough to write, you may think—but every sailor knows what may follow. Green seas fore and aft, mast sprung, men washed overboard; and if the gale does not abate, why, Davy Jones' locker for all hands and the cook!

The storm trysail must necessarily be a sheet-footed sail set over the furled mainsail. It is a sail comparatively narrow at the foot, but it should for obvious reasons be made as broad as possible at the head, in proper proportion of course to the breadth of the foot. It need not have quite as much hoist as the mainsail, for the throat halyards at such a time must have a good drift, while to keep the sail inboard the peak should be quite extreme. It follows, therefore, that although the rollers may be high the peak of the trysail is above them, and the yacht is kept jogging along steadily without any sudden and violent shocks or strains to spar or rigging.

The following rough sketches will, I think, serve to demonstrate the superiority of the gaff-headed trysail over that abortion, the thimble-headed variety, which I do not hesitate to condemn as useless for a modern yacht ballasted with outside lead in a seaway.

No. 1 shows vessel with gaffheaded sail on the crest of a wave. She drops down into the hollow of the wave and becomes No. 2. The shaded part of the sail catches the wind over the crests of the waves, and the area so exposed is sufficient to steady the vessel and give her a safe heel or list.

Now I wish to call your attention to No. 3. She has enough sail spread when on the crest of a wave. But observe her when in the hollow. She has scarcely a stitch of sail above the level of the crest. The consequence is that her weight being so low down, and her form having so much stability, she swings with a violent roll to windward and her mast is thereby imperilled. This is the result of not having the requisite amount of pressure at the head of the sail.

The commanders of square-rigged vessels always bear this in mind. They heave to under a close-reefed maintopsail, never under a lower course, and the ship when in the trough of the sea has enough sail exposed to keep her steady. The smart schooners that used to ply between St. Michaels and London in the fruit trade, and that were bound to make smart passages or lose money, were always fitted with gaffheaded trysails, and found them most efficacious in beating to windward in strong gales. Their sturdy skippers would have looked with contempt and ridicule upon any person so fatuous as to recommend a jibheaded trysail. And they were skilled sailors of fore-and-aft rigged craft, and were well acquainted with that stretch of the wild Atlantic between the Lizard and the Azores. These vessels used to beat up the English Channel in the teeth of an easterly gale and fight their way homeward inch by inch, and I consider the practical experience of their captains as far more reliable than the theoretical vagaries of men who were never out of soundings in a small craft.

What is true of comparatively large yachts in an Atlantic gale applies equally to the small cruiser. The theory is precisely the same, and in ordering a storm trysail from his sailmaker the aspiring owner of a smart, seaworthy cruiser might well be guided by the few hints given above. A gaffheaded trysail is just what he wants to steady his boat when hove to, and to counteract that tendency toward rolling that outside lead always has on the hull of a boat in a seaway.

When coming to anchor at any other time than low water, do not forget to allow for the fall of the tide. For instance, if you bring up in 10 feet of water when the tide is high, in a boat drawing, say 5 feet, and the range of rise and fall is also 5 feet, at low water your vessel would be aground and perhaps under untoward circumstances in danger of damage or even total loss. This hint is worth remembering in many parts of the world, especially in some parts of the Bay of Fundy, where there is a range of no less than 50 feet! Soundings on the chart denote the depth at mean low water.

VII.

OVERHAULING THE YACHT.

No matter how small a craft the yachtsman owns she will, after a winter's lay-up, require a good deal of attention before she is fit for the water; and there is no reason why a keen yachtsman who owns a tidy little craft should not fit her out himself in his spare time. In fact, I am acquainted with many boat-owners who find nearly as much delight in getting their own vessels into proper fettle for the season's sport as they do in navigating them. There is much to be said in favor of this enterprise. The principal argument is that a man overhauling the hull of the boat which belongs to him will not be at all likely to "scamp" the work. On the contrary, it is to his interest to do the job thoroughly while he is about it, for he is improving his own property; whereas if he employs a mechanic to do it by piece work, or by the day, the task may be performed in a manner more or less perfunctory, or at any rate without the attention to minor details which the actual proprietor would be expected to bring to the task.

I would not counsel a man to attempt repairs which call for the skilled shipwright or boat-builder. The result would in all probability be a lamentable failure, and in the end a mechanic would have to be called in. But the work of cleaning, painting and varnishing a hull intrinsically sound may be accomplished by the man or boy of average intelligence and industry.

What is true about a hull is still more so of her rig. When I first went to sea on a deep-water voyage, as soon as the ship was out of soundings the crew's first duty was to undo the work of the professional rigger, stay the masts anew by shrouds and backstays, and replace the hurried botch-work of knots and splices by seamanlike and shipshape work.

Anything in the shape of a boat may be made water-tight, no matter how leaky she may be, if treated with careful ingenuity. I would be the last man to suggest patching and puttying up a ramshackle craft whose frames and planking are rotten. Supposing, however, that the hull is fairly sound, but through exposure to the hot sun her planks are cracked in sundry places, and that in fact she leaks like a sieve, there is no reason why she should be condemned. There is a lot of good fun to be got out of a craft of this kind, if the proper repairs are made. If put in the hands of a professional boat-builder the cost would be very high, even if he could be induced to undertake the work. Here, then, is where a handy man or boy has a capital opportunity to try his hand as a craftsman. I repaired an old 18 foot boat in my younger days, when money was scarce and I had the alternative of giving up my pet diversion of sailing or making the ancient bucket tight.

This is how I went about it.

The craft in question was hauled out on the shore above high-water mark. She had been abandoned by her rightful owner, who had moved inland and left her to the tender mercies of the sun in summer and the snow in winter. For sixteen months she lay on the beach neglected. Every day I cast covetous eyes on her. I will make a clean breast of it now in my old age and confess that I had contemplated stealing her. That sin was, however, spared me, as I found her owner's address and wrote, asking if he would sell her. He replied that he would give her to me and welcome, and thus made me the happiest youth in the land.