Chapter XII: THE LAST WORD—Final hints to tars who want to sail their own craft 292 (3)

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.

THE DOUBLE-HULLER OF THE PACIFIC.
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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.

SLOOP “GRACIE.”
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SCHOONER “SAPPHO.”
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CUTTER “GENESTA.”
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Among the many yachts which were altered often and extensively may be mentioned the famous sloop _Gracie_, designed and built at Nyack-on-the-Hudson, by A. Polhemus. She was launched in July, 1868, her dimensions being 60 feet 3 inches over all, 58 feet on the water-line, 18 feet 8 inches beam, 5 feet 6 inches depth of hold, and 5 feet draught. Her center board was lengthened 2 feet aft in 1869. She was altered in 1874, and when completed measured as follows: length over all, 72 feet 9 inches; on water-line 62 feet; beam, 20 feet 6 inches; depth of hold, 6 feet 6 inches; draught 5 feet 8 inches. In 1879 she was rebuilt by David Carll, at City Island, her length over all being 79 feet 10 inches, on water-line 72 feet 2 inches; beam, 21 feet 6 inches; depth of hold, 7 feet 2 inches, and draught, 6 feet 6 inches. In 1886 she was given 12 inches more freeboard. She sailed in the trial races against _Bedouin_, _Puritan_, and _Priscilla_, for the honor of defending the _America’s_ cup against _Genesta_, but that task was given to _Puritan_.

The keel cutter _Colonia_, built by Herreshoff as a cup defender to sail against _Valkyrie II._, proved less fast than _Vigilant_. Her fault was a deficiency of lateral plane, which made her sag off bodily to leeward in a most discouraging manner. After serving as a drill ship for the crew of the _Defender_ in 1895, she was purchased by Commodore Clarence A. Postley, fitted with a centerboard from a plan by Cary Smith, at Lewis Nixon’s shipyard, and rigged as a schooner. She is now (1899) the crack American “two-sticker.”

Old-timers will recollect how slow the schooner _Sappho_ was until Capt. “Bob” Fish hit upon the bold expedient of “hipping her out,” which was done by swelling out her midship section about fourteen inches, and tapering it off to nothing about thirty feet each way. The result was that _Sappho_, theretofore so sluggish that she could scarcely get out of her own way, beat nearly every craft bold enough to encounter her, and won many cups and much kudos for her sportsmanlike owner, Mr. William P. Douglas. Mr. A. Cass Canfield altered the sloop _Priscilla_ considerably, but it cannot be said that he was altogether successful. When _Volunteer_ was transformed into a schooner her forebody was reconstructed, and she made an enviable record as a “two-sticker;” but when rerigged as a sloop she never showed an approach to her original splendid form, as I think most yachtsmen will frankly concede.

SCHOONER “COLONIA.”
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Our British cousins used to have a perfect craze for rebuilding famous yachts, the old crack cutters _Alarm_ and _Arrow_—both celebrated prize-winners—being notable examples of this ruling passion. But both here and in England the custom of materially altering the form of a yacht’s hull in the hope of improving her speed may be said to have gone completely out of fashion. This is doubtless due to the radical and rapid changes in hulls, brought about by the frequently shifting rules of measurement for time allowance and the artfully ingenious methods of generations of yacht designers to get the better of those selfsame rules.

I only mention these just to give a practical illustration of the way the old-timers used to alter and rebuild their beloved boats. The custom is now obsolete. If a racing machine of the present day is not outclassed in her third season she is looked upon as quite a smart craft. It may thus be perceived that conditions have altered considerably during the last decade.

On general principles it is unwise to go in for very extensive alterations on a yacht of any kind, whether cruiser or racer. If, however, you are determined to go ahead, I advise you to be sure to have an iron-clad contract as to cost.

Rig of Cutter showing Masthead Shroud.
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While your boat is being repaired or altered, ship your sailing-master, scrutinizing his references as to ability and character with care, and if possible supplement this examination by an interview with his last employer before engaging him.

Of course, much depends upon the size of your craft and the depth of your pocket. A Hank Haff or a Charley Barr would be too expensive a luxury for a craft of modest dimensions, and a boat-owner in matters of this kind must depend much upon his own judgment; it is impossible to give him advice except in the most general way.

The work of fitting out a racing yacht preparatory to tuning up for the season’s sport is exceptionally interesting to the real amateur, but the owner who has no true regard for yachting generally finds the process somewhat of a bore. In “Boat Sailing, Fair Weather and Foul,” a companion volume to this book, there is a chapter on “The Overhauling of a Yacht,” which contains a useful wrinkle or two, of which the reader may avail himself if he feels so disposed. The same is true of the chapter on “Laying up for the Winter,” which is indorsed by naval architects and practical seamen.

It is customary with some builders to have a sail-loft annex to the shipyard, and these men are, in most cases, anxious to contract for the sails as well as for the hull of a boat. I should not advise any yacht owner who contemplates racing his craft to employ anyone but the most skilful manipulator of duck to make his sails, which are of as much consequence as the hull itself so far as the winning of cups and prizes is concerned.

The man of fashion, ambitious of being well attired, so as to shine socially, doesn’t go to Baxter street for a dress suit. Neither does a yachtsman patronize a tentmaker for a racing mainsail or a well-cut jib. There is no objection to the shipbuilder contracting for the sails if he desires to make a little extra money, but the yacht owner should take care that the name of the sailmaker appears in the contract, and this will be a sufficient guarantee for first-class work. There are many firms in the United States justly famous as yacht sailmakers, and these are of such high standing that their names marked on the sails supplied insures the best in the way of cut and the quality of material. It is a great mistake to exercise any cheeseparing economy on a yacht’s means of propulsion, whether it be steam or duck. The best in the market, whether it be machinery or sails, is none too good.

A cruising craft with a slovenly or slatternly owner may, perhaps, be content with a suit of sails that fits like a purser’s shirt on a handspike, with a mainsail all abag and head-sails that would disgrace a coal barge; but even a cruising craft may be caught on a lee shore with a gale of wind, and perhaps the owner will curse his fatuous economy when he has tried in vain to claw off the beach with his baggy sails and finds that his craft is crunching to pieces in the surf and he himself is struggling for life in the treacherous undertow.

The cost of racing sails is high, and, ordinarily, a yacht that goes the cup-hunting circuit needs a new mainsail every season. Under careful management, however, a mainsail, with good luck, has been known to do good service for two summers. The quality of cotton duck has improved appreciably of late, owing to a better method of manufacture, and sails “sit” better and do not “bag” as they used to. Cotton is king, so far as racing sails go, in Europe as well as America, flax having been entirely superseded by it. The change from flax to cotton began in England about 1893.

The rig of a racing yacht should be no more neglected than her sails. The spars should be hollow on 20-footers and all in excess of that class. The standing rigging should be of silver-steel wire, set up by turnbuckles. The blocks should be strong and light, and the running rigging of the best quality. There should not be a superfluous ounce of weight in the craft alow or aloft if the winning of cups is what the owner has in view.

Rigging screws or turnbuckles, which have superseded deadeyes and lanyards for the setting up of standing rigging, were first used in 1877 on the English cutter _Verve_. They are used now on all racing yachts.

In the old days of reefing bowsprits it was quite a usual event to carry away several bobstays during the season. The long overhang forward of the modern yacht has reduced the length of the bowsprit, and consequently the strain on the spar when pitching into a heavy head sea. The overhang also gives better facilities for handling the head-sails.

Flexible silver-steel wire rope is now used for running rigging in many yachts, notably for runners and runner tackles, and also for peak and throat halyards.

The best spars for large yachts are made of Oregon fir. This splendid wood is the best in the world for the purpose. Some spars have been known to measure nearly 40 inches in diameter, and some 172 feet long; the average length of spars shipped to Atlantic ports from the Pacific coast is 90 feet, and the diameter 22 to 23 inches. Oregon fir is stronger than spruce or white pine, and hence less diameter is required for the same height. Spruce is in general use for the spars of smaller craft. Steel booms for racing yachts were first used on _Defender_ and _Valkyrie III._

The greatest improvements in the rigging of yachts of recent years have been the masthead shrouds, bridles on gaffs, and the comparatively new throat-halyard pennants. In a spanking breeze there is a great strain on the masthead, also much play, but by the adoption of the three devices mentioned the strains are both minimized and equalized. Large vessels carry double masthead shrouds, and smaller craft single ones. _Vigilant_ was, I believe, the first American yacht to be fitted with them. Now they are carried by every craft of consequence. Gaff bridles and throat-halyard pennants are indispensable to the rigging of every racing yacht from the smallest cat to the largest schooner.

If your craft is large enough to spread two shrouds on each side, have them fitted in pairs. A bight and a good seizing are preferable to two single eyes.

The bowsprit-shroud outriggers or spreaders should be bolted fast to the ship without any hinged joint. This prevents any unnecessary play when the boat plunges bows under in a heavy head sea. There should be the same length of shroud between the spreader and the bowsprit end, and the spreader and the turnbuckle which sets them up. The strain is thus divided equally and advantageously. The bobstay spreader or dolphin-striker should always have a hinged joint.

The rigging of _Uncas_ is fitted as follows: Bobstay, 2½-inch steel wire; forestay, 2-inch do.; jibstay, 1¼-inch do.; bowsprit shrouds, 1½-inch do.; standing rigging, 1¼-inch do.; masthead shroud, 1⅜-inch do.; topmast gear, all 1-inch do.; runner shrouds, 1¼-inch do.; spring stay, 1½-inch do.; main lifts, 1½-inch flexible 19-thread steel wire; gaff bridles, 1¼-inch do.; peak and throat halyards, 2¼-inch manila bolt-rope; main sheet, 2-inch do.; fore sheet, 1¾-inch do.; head-sheets and minor gear in proportion.

The _Vigil_, of similar design, is rigged precisely the same, with the exception that her main peak and throat halyards are of 1-inch flexible steel wire, the fore peak and throat halyards of ⅝-inch do.; club-topsail halyards, ⅝-inch do.

Lengths of manila are so spliced to these flexible wire halyards that when they are belayed the splice is about six feet above the deck. This flexible steel answers remarkably well. When once set up, it stays set up. There is no “give” to it, and thus frequent “swaying on it,” as is the case with hemp rope, is quite unnecessary.

RIG AND SAIL PLAN OF “UNCAS.”
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A modern 25-foot-water-line single-sticker with a pole mast, is rigged as follows: Bobstay, rod of steel ¾-inch in diameter, set up with a turnbuckle at end of bowsprit; shrouds, two on each side, 1⅛-inch steel wire; forestay set up to stem head, 1¼-inch do.; jib set flying, hoisted with ¾-inch 8-stranded flexible steel halyards, set up with a jig-purchase; runner shrouds of ⅝-inch steel wire canvased over; main lifts, ¾-inch flexible steel wire, painted, parceled, served over with white cod-line, and then covered with white canvas sewed on; the throat and peak halyards are of ¾-inch flexible steel wire. The blocks are all strapped with grommets of flexible steel wire, served and leathered.

From these examples a fair idea of the modern method of rigging a racing craft may be gathered. Strength, lightness, and neatness are the qualities sought and attained. Steel wire is now largely used for the leech ropes of sails, and it is strongly recommended by our “swellest” sailmakers.

The above I owe to my old seafaring friend, John F. Byno, who put the neatest splice ever seen in the Brooklyn Bridge cable, and is an expert with the marlinspike, as all the members of the Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club can bear witness.

No. 1. Side view of main masthead.

No. 2. Back view of main masthead.

MASTHEADS OF “UNCAS.”
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No. 3. Side view of fore masthead.

No. 4. Back view of fore masthead.

MASTHEADS OF “UNCAS.”
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Flexible steel wire rope is nearly if not quite as pliable as new hemp rope of the same strength. It is made with nineteen wires to the strand. The greater the diameter of the sheaves over which it passes, the longer it will last. The manufacturers recommend as a preservative a mixture of linseed oil and pine tar. It is impossible to belay wire rope to a cleat, as it will surely “render” or slip. Manila rope is therefore spliced to the hauling end of the wire, which makes it pleasanter to haul on, and insures its remaining fast after it is once belayed. I would not counsel a lubber to try to splice wire and rope together, unless in the privacy of a separate room. Why? Because the bystanders would be sure to laugh. It takes an artist to make this most difficult splice.

Grommet straps for blocks made of flexible steel wire cannot be surpassed. After making the grommet, paint well with raw linseed oil and white lead; parcel with canvas, serve with marline, apply another coat of paint, and then cover with leather or canvas sewn on. For neatness, strength, and durability this method is superior to any other. But it requires an expert to do the work.

With regard to turnbuckles for setting up all kinds of standing rigging, it must be conceded that they are indispensable for racing craft both large and small. One advantage of deadeye and lanyard for deep-water cruising is that if it should be necessary to cut away the mast to save the ship when hove on her beam ends, a cut with an axe will sever the weather lanyards and away goes the mast. The turnbuckle cannot be cut. A combination of turnbuckle, and deadeye and lanyard, might be fitted so as to combine the advantages of both.

CUTTER “MINERVA.”
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The bulwarks of racing yachts have been reduced in height to mere battens. All deck fittings have been lightened as much as the designers dared. All with the intention of reducing weight, ironwork on spars looks very frail when compared with that of a decade ago, and the weight of blocks has been diminished in some cases more than fifty per cent.

The abolition of all cabin fittings first took place in the Marquis of Ailsa’s _Bloodhound_, built in 1874. All she had in her cabin was a seat along each side.

It is only comparatively recently that yacht designers have made serious efforts to reduce weight aloft. Sometimes they have gone too far. I remember a 40-foot cutter, built to sail against the Scotch cutter _Minerva_. She was dismasted in a puff on the occasion of her first race, which was also her maiden sail. The same mishap befell her later on in a fine sailing breeze off Newport. I was on the committee boat which towed her into port. If she hadn’t been well handled after being disabled some serious accident might have happened to her hull. The accident was ascribed to defective ironwork.

It is of no benefit to stay the masts of pleasure vessels with rigging heavy enough for a great brig. A sense of proportion should be observed. Scientific men have calculated and tabulated the stress and strain that wood, metal, wire and hempen rope will bear, and these tables may be consulted by anybody able to read.

It is a fact that piano wire plays a leading part in the rigging of some of the down-to-date little racing freaks one meets nowadays, especially in fresh water where it is less exposed to corrosion. It is highly spoken of by those who have used it. Better, however, not to go to extremes and always to beware of a spider-web rig. Like flimsy construction it causes a yacht to come to grief.

SAIL PLAN OF “ETHELWYNN.”
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A good example of lightness of rig was the 15-footer _Ethelwynn_, designed by Mr. W. P. Stephens, to defend the International Challenge Cup of the Seawanhaka Corinthian Yacht Club. It will be remembered that she beat Mr. Brand’s _Spruce IV._, which boat was quite heavily rigged when compared with the American craft. The mast was a hollow spar of 4¼ inches, a far too heavy stick, as experience proved, for one of 3 inches and about half the weight would have been sufficiently strong. The hollow boom was 2¾ inches diameter in the slings. The rigging was of phosphor-bronze wire rope, the forestay being ³⁄₃₂-inch diameter, shrouds ³⁄₁₆-inch diameter, and runners ⅛-inch. Main and jib halyards were of the same material, ⅛-inch diameter. The main-halyard ran over a 2-inch sheave in the masthead, a single part with a whip-tackle at the deck. The jib-halyard was double with a jig. The running rigging was of imported English cord. She carried 198 square feet of duck.

HALF RATER “SPRUCE IV.”
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FIFTEEN-FOOTER “ETHELWYNN.”
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I am indebted to Mr. Stephens for the description and the accompanying sail plan.

J. M. James, Vice-Commodore of the Imperial Model Yacht Club, of Tokio, Japan, is enthusiastic in praise of lacquer as a coating for the outside skin of yachts. He says that all the club’s models have their topsides and bottoms lacquered; and after numerous experiments for testing those thus treated against painted craft an increase of speed, amounting to ten per cent., was found in favor of the lacquered ones. A model yacht once well lacquered, with care and barring accidents, will last a lifetime and retain its luster. He says that all the Japanese naval ships have their bottoms lacquered. The lacquer gives increased speed and almost prevents fouling, and if properly put on lasts for three years. The only drawback is that the process is very expensive.

Here is an opportunity for some enterprising individual to experiment with lacquer. If he proves successful he will gain the gratitude of yachtsmen. Incidentally, he will also win a large pecuniary reward.

In the matter of a compass the racing yachtsman should be careful. In thick weather, when steering for a mark, it is necessary that the deviation for every point should be known. In wooden yachts there is no difficulty, if ordinary precautions are taken, in keeping compasses exact. In iron and steel yachts they have to be licked into shape by a professional adjuster of reputation.

In spite of opinions to the contrary, held by old salts, the compass is not affected by fog, thunder, or attraction of land. It should be remembered, however, that magnetism exerts its magical influence through all bodies, no matter how dense, while light, heat and electricity do not possess this wonderful property.

Thus, casing an iron bulkhead with wood or covering an iron stanchion with copper or canvas will not prevent the metal from affecting the compass. It may be thought superfluous to assert such a well-known scientific fact in this year of the world, but experience teaches me that there is still much to be learned by those who go down to the sea in yachts.

It is not generally known that no iron vessel has been struck by lightning. The wooden spars have been shattered frequently by the electric fluid, but, owing to the circumstance that water is a better conductor than iron, the hull of an iron vessel has never suffered. If the spars of an iron ship are made of iron, the vessel may be looked upon as immune from disaster by lightning.

As soon as your craft is fitted out place her in commission, and proceed to become acquainted with her. Prizes are won only by hard work, and if you intend to make a record for yourself and your craft you can attain your end by honest industry only.

Part of the sea-jockey’s stock in trade is to discover how slow a yacht may be made to go with every stitch of sail set ostensibly to the best advantage, with sheets pulling like horses and trimmed to perfection. It is only the most subtle and knowing customer that can so master a yacht as to excel in this. The most accomplished proficient I ever knew was the skipper of the Scotch ten-ton cutter _Madge_, which came over in 1881, and created a great revolution in yachting. That man could make the boat almost speak. By manipulating the sheets, slacking one or flattening in another, and by other tricks unknown to this deponent, I have seen him allow an oyster-boat to beat the crack racing cutter. The name of that canny skipper was Duncan. The Yankee captains who sailed against him are not likely to forget it.

I remember reading somewhere about a yacht skipper of experience who fooled a younger rival and caused him much unhappiness during a hotly contested race on the Solent. It was blowing a piping breeze, and _Sally_, the rival craft, had one reef in her mainsail and the topmast struck. _Bantam_, on the other hand, was the stiffer of the two, and held on to the whole mainsail, but also dowsed topmast. _Sally_ had passed _Bantam_, and was leading her some fifty yards. Both yachts were at that time sheltered by the land, but a few hundred yards ahead a big sea was running in the West Channel.

It was at this moment that the sly old sea-dog played his low-down trick on the green young skipper, who was watching his every action.

“Up with the topmast, lads!” yelled Captain Sly of the _Bantam_.

His crew made a great pretense of swaying away on the heel rope, but somehow or other it got jammed and stayed jammed, in spite of the apparent efforts made to clear it.

Captain Green thought he would be smart. He sent up his topmast in seamanlike style. The topsail was set just as the _Sally_ encountered the heavy sea in the channel. She made one dive and buried herself up to the skylight. The pressure was too much for her. In an instant _Bantam’s_ topmast was housed, and all the gear fast again, and while _Sally_ was pitching and ’scending in the choppy sea _Bantam_ crawled through her lee and beat her. Captain Green was so demoralized by the trick of which he was the victim that he did not regain his self-possession until it was too late.

Captain Sly was convinced that Captain Green would imitate him in everything, and the result proved that he had formed a correct estimate of his opponent.

It is not wise or politic to undervalue the sailing qualities of an opposing yacht, especially when she is practically an unknown quantity. In other words, don’t prophesy unless you know. Here is a case in point:

When the _Madge_ was about due to sail her first race in these waters, the skipper of her Yankee opponent is said to have paid a visit to Sawyer, the sailmaker, and asked for the loan of some flying kites.

“Any old stuff will do,” quoth the skipper. “I’ve only got to knock out that narrow-gutted coffin anchored yonder.”

The sails were lent by Mr. Sawyer, and it is needless to say that they did _not_ fit “like paint on a post.” The “coffin” beat the “skimming dish” with singular ease.

I put this little yarn on record only just to show the contempt the average American yachtsman had at that time for the epoch-making _Madge_.

The proper balancing of sails is imperative when racing. To illustrate my meaning I need only refer to the decisive race between _Vigilant_ and _Valkyrie_ for the _America’s_ Cup, which all but resulted in the winning of the race by the British yacht. In point of fact, _Valkyrie_, had not her two spinnakers blown away, would have romped in victoriously. In the beat to the outward mark _Vigilant_ carried a reefed mainsail and a big jib, and, for the first time in her history, required lee helm. This blunder, in addition to her centerboard becoming jammed, made _Valkyrie_ beat her 1m. 55s. on the windward leg. _Valkyrie_ had a half-reef in her mainsail, but shifted her jib and set one whose center of effort was in exact accord with the reduced after-canvas. _Vigilant_ won by forty seconds only, and had it not been for the _Valkyrie’s_ hard luck would have been badly defeated.

On July 13, 1889, the _Katrina_, while racing against the _Titania_ in a reefing breeze, carrying a big jib and a reefed mainsail, suffered a like deserved defeat. Under her ill-balanced sail-spread, for the first time in her history, she, too, carried lee helm, and sagged off to leeward like a haystack adrift. She made a pitiable exhibition of herself, and all hands rejoiced when her main boom snapped off and permitted her to withdraw without disgrace. Meanwhile _Titania_, splendidly handled by Captain Haff and Mr. C. Oliver Iselin, sailed over the course and won the race.

FORTY-FOOTER “GOSSOON.”
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It is interesting to note that the mishaps to both _Katrina_ and _Vigilant_ occurred on the 13th of the month.

The jibtopsail when a yacht is close-hauled is of very little use, especially in a bit of a breeze. Some skippers set what is known as a “baby-jibtopsail” when the wind is very light. It is questionable if the sail is of any benefit at all under such circumstances. In my opinion, the sail makes the boat’s head sag off to leeward, lee helm being the result. If no such sail were made, I think it would never be missed. Of course, with the wind free the jibtopsail, from its most diminutive size to its most extreme balloon development, is a very valuable sail.

In taking note of the speed of boats the length should be considered. I remember that the 40-footer _Gossoon_, the conqueror of the Scotch cutter _Minerva_ in 1890, without any tide to help or retard her, made in a race I saw an average of nine knots an hour. This means that to accomplish this feat she had to run her length in 2¾ seconds. A little reflection will show that this is a remarkable achievement for so small a vessel.

It may be mentioned here that a nautical mile, a knot, and a geographical mile are one and the same thing. A knot equals 1.15 statute miles. Multiply the number of knots by 1.15, and you have the distance in statute miles. There are 6,080 feet in a knot; 5,280 feet in a statute mile.

Chronometers should be kept free from damp, dust, and draughts. When winding turn the key steadily, avoiding any jerky action. Most of them require seven and a half turns of the key. Wind slowly and steadily as far as the mechanism will permit. Wind punctually at the same hour every day. A chronometer that has run down, on being wound up again, will probably not start until it has been quickly but not violently slued half round and back again. This is easily done by placing the instrument on the table, and turning it horizontally between the hands. Take care that the instrument has neither too much nor too little side-play in the gimbals. A standard compass stowed away, while in port, close to a chronometer has been known to ruin the going of the watch, the powerful compass needles having by induction magnetized the steel portion of the balance. Do not stow a chronometer close to an iron bulkhead, an iron vessel’s side, the upper or lower end of a vertical iron stanchion, or within eight feet of compass compensating magnets. The chronometer case should not be screwed down to a table containing drawers which might possibly be used to hold spare compass cards. Chronometers should be kept away from iron almost as religiously as compasses.

Jolting in a railway train or a conveyance of any description is liable to alter the steady going of a chronometer. The quick jerk of a boat propelled by oars is still more likely to prove injurious. If, therefore, a chronometer has to be taken from one place to another in a pulling boat, it should be held free in the hand by the leather straps, taking care to avoid a circular motion. When traveling by train place the instrument on a pile of overcoats or rugs, in such a position that it will not fall. Marine chronometers are intended always to be kept strictly horizontal with the face up. Never allow a chronometer to run longer than four years without having it overhauled by a first-class workman. If it is a new instrument, it should be looked at after a year or eighteen months.

“AMERICA,” 1899.
]

V.
DUTY AND DISCIPLINE AFLOAT.
THE SHIP’S COMPANY IN DETAIL FROM THE SKIPPER TO THE SEA-COOK.

To cruise with pleasure from port to port and to win races—the yacht owner must remember that he can do neither unless his sailing-master thoroughly understands his business. Whether amateur or professional, the skipper must be a man of dash and daring tempered with a modest _soupçon_ of discretion, active, vigilant, with his weather eye wide open at all times and seasons. He must have the knack of handling men so as to get every foot-pound of energy out of them that is in them. He should be a strict, but not necessarily a stern, disciplinarian; and he should have sufficient diplomatic instinct in his make-up to know when to wink at a slight lapse on the part of a generally capable and faithful blue-jacket.

The personnel of the racing yacht is of the greatest importance, and, if not of the best, the career of the vessel is not likely to be crowned with the laurels of success. The man in command must have the rare gift of personal magnetism, the art of inspiring enthusiasm, of compelling victory. A cool head is no less necessary than are nerves of steel. He must be a splendid helmsman, a good practical seaman and skillful navigator.

A man possessed of all these attributes commands high wages and deserves all he can get. The discipline of his yacht is perfect. Everything goes with the precision of clockwork, at sea or in port. He is prepared for every emergency that may arise when at anchor or under way, and is never caught napping. Keeping a watchful eye on the interests of his owner, he is also careful of his crew, being fully aware of the evil consequences of a discontented forecastle, and knowing that sulky or surly sailors never yet were conducive to the capturing of sea trophies. A good skipper must therefore be a good judge of human nature, alive to the idiosyncrasies and frailties of sailors, who have in good sooth as many whims and vagaries as silly schoolgirls in the transition stage of development. In fact he should be quite a past master in the cunning art of “jollying along.” It is astonishing what a number of men there are who possess all these qualifications. Modest, unassuming men, skillful navigators and seamen they will prove to be, and you can avail yourself of their services for a moderate compensation.

There is no fixed scale of wages for a yacht skipper. The sailing-master of a large steam yacht may be paid $3,000 a year, while the skipper of a racing 51-footer might think himself lucky if he gets $80 a month with the prospect of being paid off when the yacht goes out of commission. This practice of engaging a skipper for the season seems to me to be short-sighted policy. It cannot be expected that a captain hired for three months only will take more than a passing interest in the vessel. He would be more than human if he lay awake nights, scheming how to save his owner money. Whereas, an honest, conscientious skipper, assured of receiving living wages all the year round, will more than earn his salary by the extra care he takes of the yacht. He naturally looks upon the vessel as a prime source of revenue. He realizes that it is to his interest to run her as economically as possible, to keep her in thorough repair and order at the least possible cost, to make life aboard her as pleasant as possible to his owner and his guests, to win as many prizes as he can if the boat is a racer, or if simply a cruiser to get her talked about for a phenomenally fast passage from one port to another, for beating a rival of approximate size by a handsome margin, or for successfully reaching her destination in a heavy blow, when other boats were glad to scud under bare poles for a harbor. These little acts if performed with tact, make an owner prouder than ever of his yacht and more appreciative of the services of his skipper.

Permit me to illustrate. A friend of mine several winters ago purposed to buy a schooner and fit her out for a West Indian cruise. He provided himself with a number of tickets of admission to several vessels laid up in a dock at South Brooklyn. He invited me to accompany him on a prospecting tour. It was a dirty day, sleet, snow and wind being the objectionable features that confronted us.

Our first port of call was the office of the dock, where we found a man in charge who examined our credentials and sent to a neighboring tavern for the “ship-keeper,” who he said had “gone to lunch.” In about half an hour this functionary made his appearance, and piloted us to the pier where several schooners which we desired to look at were moored. We boarded the first on our list, a cruising vessel of some celebrity, whose owner desired to sell her, as he was building a steamer. The decks were deep with water, the scuppers being obstructed. Everywhere were signs of disgraceful neglect. The binnacle was a mass of verdigris. Costly and artistic wood carving was without protection from the weather. The handsome companionway of mahogany was without a canvas cover. Going below we found everything mildewed and musty. The bedding in the berths was damp. Water trickled from the deck beams. What really had been a most attractive interior presented an appearance of dampness most dispiriting, as well as every evidence of decay. It was indeed pitiable to see such a fine vessel in so sad a plight. We passed on, and inspected two other craft whose condition was only slightly better, and which presented few attractions from a purchaser’s point of view.

The next yacht we visited was in marked contrast to the others. A handsome, sunburned man greeted us at the gangway, and after we had explained our mission, invited us below. He was the captain of the schooner, he told us, and was spending the winter aboard of her. Stepping down into the cabin we saw a snug and cozy saloon, a cheerful fire burning in the open grate, everything bright and spick and span, as though the yacht was in Newport at the height of the season. A pretty young woman was at work at a sewing machine, while a pampered Persian cat basked luxuriously on a handsome rug in front of the fire.

“This is my wife, gentlemen,” he said, and then he showed us all over the vessel from right forward to right aft. The staterooms were in perfect order, not a sign of damp or mildew anywhere. Everything was clean and spotless as a new pin. We found that the skipper had been in charge of the yacht from the day of her launch, that he and the steward and a boy lived on her every winter and kept her in thorough order outside and inside.

We were shown the logs of several deep-water cruises she had made, together with track charts of the voyages. We were entertained with an intelligent and interesting description of the yacht’s behavior in a hurricane off Bermuda, given with a wealth of seamanlike detail, which we both hugely enjoyed. It was evident that the skipper was a firm believer in his boat, and that he had tended her with care and loving kindness from her christening to that day. He explained that his owner had married a woman who hated the sea, and that the vessel was in the market at a reasonable price.

That schooner now flies my friend’s private signal, and that same skipper is still her sailing-master, and, according to his employer, is worth his weight in gold. This practical illustration may demonstrate the advantage of employing a sailing-master by the year and not by the season.

Every word I have written about a skipper applies, in the case of a steam yacht, to the engineer. And if possible, still more strongly, for the deterioration of marine engines left without care or protection is both rapid and, I need hardly add, costly in the extreme.

I strongly advise a yacht owner who thinks he has the skill and knowledge requisite for the command of a yacht, to assume command himself and dispense with the services of a professional sailing-master. Let him ship a competent man as mate and give him to understand that his duty is to carry out the owner’s orders, and simply to act as executive officer. It is impossible that a yacht can have two captains and turn out a cup winner. Jacob found two wives in the same house quite incompatible; and the discipline of a racing craft with the owner and the sailing-master both issuing commands at the same time is not unlikely to be lax, and with lax discipline races cannot be won.

The treatment of the sailing-master by the yacht owner varies according to the temperament and disposition of the latter. A gentleman is incapable of rudeness to an employé—especially to a man holding so responsible a position, and in charge of such a valuable piece of personal property as a yacht. The judicious owner always treats his skipper with respect. If he desires to preserve proper discipline aboard, he will let the crew see that the captain has his entire confidence. The owner, therefore, should always give his orders to the skipper, who will then communicate them to the crew. For instance, if he wants a boat lowered he should not sing out to the crew to lay aft and lower the launch. That would be a grave breach of yachting etiquette. The correct course to pursue is to tell the captain that he wants the boat, and leave to him the issuance of the necessary commands for the carrying out of his wish. This may seem a small matter, but it is really of importance. If neglected, it is subversive of discipline. The owner should always address the master as Mr. ——, never as “Skipper” or “Cap,” as is too often the case aboard a certain class of craft conducted after slipshod methods. The men should always address the sailing-master, and also the mate, as “Sir,” and no departure from this rule should be tolerated. The sailing-master should be held responsible for any breach of discipline on the part of the crew, and his authority should always be sustained by the owner.

I have seen more than one sailing-master who, not content with tyrannizing over the crew, held the owner in complete subjection. It may be readily surmised what kind of worms these owners were. But take yacht skippers by and large, the average is worthy of confidence and respect. The percentage of black sheep among them is almost infinitesimal. The same remark applies to the mates and the men.

The following hints to sailing-masters were written by a dyspeptic martinet of a yacht owner, but there is much good sense in them. They are hung up in his sailing-master’s berth:

1.— Never curse the crew. The owner will do all the swearing.

2.— Should the owner or any of his guests not use tobacco, never smoke
to windward of him or them. Have the goodness to step to
leeward.

3.— Always be at the gangway when the owner comes alongside. No matter
how warm it may be, do not receive him in your shirt-sleeves.

4.— Have a memorandum of all the stores in your department. Do not
rashly answer, “There is none on board,” without consulting your
list when asked for an article required.

5.— There are yachts afloat whose owners are run by the
sailing-masters. This yacht is governed differently.

6.— If the sailing-master is at any time dissatisfied with the owner
or the yacht he has an unfailing remedy, and the sooner he
avails himself of it the better.

7.— The owner trusts that pleasant relations will always prevail
between the sailing-master and himself.

Having secured your skipper let him ship the crew. If your yacht is a large vessel you will need a mate. In the interest of harmony it is advisable to let the skipper have some say in the matter of his selection. It will be advisable to look over his credentials, with a view to finding out if he is competent to take charge of the vessel in the event of any accident befalling the captain. If you contemplate a blue-water voyage, be careful that the mate is a navigator and has the requisite license. If deprived of the services of your skipper by any unforeseen cause, it would be awkward to find yourself, say, a thousand miles from land, with nobody aboard capable of finding the vessel’s position otherwise than by dead reckoning—a hit or miss method always unreliable.

The wages of mates vary. Some of them are paid $10 or $15 a month more than the men, whose pay ranges between $25 and $30 a month. This is much more than is paid to English yacht sailors, who have to feed themselves out of their pay.

The mate’s duty is to take charge of the yacht when the master is below. When the master is on deck the mate’s station is forward. He superintends the setting, taking in and trimming of sails, and in a general way carries out the skipper’s orders. He is a very important man in a race, for then the captain’s place is at the helm and the mate is responsible for the proper working of the vessel and the prompt setting of balloon sails. If any of the running gear gets foul or parts he is tolerably certain of a brisk dressing-down, especially if the mishap causes the loss of the race. The reason of this is because he has charge of all the gear and sails and spars, and is responsible for their being always in good condition.

The mate superintends the work of getting under way, sees the head-sails clear for hoisting, looks after the windlass, sees that the hose is played on the chain cable if the vessel has brought up on muddy bottom. Also when coming to anchor he sees that the mud-hook is clear for letting go, all halyards ready for lowering, booms in good shape for swinging out, and the boats in good condition for lowering. The captain is in command of the starboard watch, and the mate takes hold of the port watch. In long runs the watches are set as in ocean steamers, the men taking two-hour tricks at the helm and the same on the lookout.

The mate, as executive officer, superintends the washing down of the decks in the morning, and is held responsible for the yacht’s ship-shape appearance. If any “Irish pennants” are seen towing overboard or if there is a speck of dirt anywhere to be found, the mate is brought up with a round turn. A good mate is invaluable, and if he and the sailing-master work in harmony together, the yacht, so far as discipline is concerned, will be perfect, and the vessel will be a pleasant one for all hands. The mate in large steam yachts has generally the charge of the launch, bringing aboard guests and taking them ashore. It is imperative that he should have a thorough knowledge of the art of boat-handling and that he should be a smart, all-round man in every detail.

Only very large craft carry a boatswain. His duty is to care for the rigging and “pipe the side.” Personally, I like to hear the cheery sound of his whistle. It reminds me of old times. The boatswain nowadays finds no occupation for his “call” on a racing craft.

Great Britain and the United States are the leading yachting nations of the world. The yachting flags of both countries have been seen in nearly every harbor of the globe. France, Italy and Germany have during the last decade made some noticeable progress in the pastime, but neither in racing nor in cruising have they accomplished anything of real significance.