IN EQUIPPING
a boat for a cruise, even in summer, it is always well to remember that
gales of wind are not unusual even in July. I once knew it to blow with
spiteful ferocity in the last week of that month, and to disperse the
Atlantic Yacht Club squadron and drive them to seek shelter in various
harbors of Long Island Sound, between Black Rock and New Haven. Out of
the whole fleet only two yachts reached their destination, New London.
One was the sloop Athion, Vice-Commodore E.B. Havens, on board of which
I was a guest, and the forty-footer Chispa. It was quite an exciting
and hard thrash to windward in the teeth of an easterly gale, but we
got there. Had not the two yachts mentioned been properly prepared for
such an exigency, they also would have been forced to bear up and run
for some landlocked haven in which to linger until the wind had blown
itself out. Although these summer gales generally exhaust themselves in
twenty-four hours, they are often quite savage while they last, and the
sensible yachtsman will always be prepared to meet them. His standing
and running rigging will be in first-class condition; whatever storm
canvas he carries will be ready for bending at a moment's notice; his
sea anchor or drogue will also be at hand for letting go should the
necessity arise.
Of course I need not impress upon the amateur boat sailer
that a compass should be taken along on a cruise. But I have mingled a
good deal with the owners of small craft, and have met many who either
did not carry one at all or, if it was aboard, as likely as not stowed
it away in the same locker with a hatchet, marlinespike and other tools
not likely to improve it. A compass should always form part of a boat's
outfit. A fog often makes its appearance when a party of pleasure
seekers are enjoying a sail on sound or bay, and when it shuts down on
you thick as a hedge I will defy you not to lose your bearings, and
consequently your way. In times such as these a compass will prove a
source of great comfort, and instead of being compelled to anchor and
await clear weather you can steer for your destination under shortened
sail. In such cases never fail to blow the foghorn, which should be of
regulation size and not a penny squeaking trumpet such as a six-year
old schoolboy affects. The ordinary boat's compass will answer
admirably if only short sails are contemplated, but on a long cruise
where a heavy sea is not unlikely to be encountered, a fluid compass
should be carried. The motion of a small craft in rough water causes
the common compass card to jump about so much as to be perfectly
useless to steer by, while a fluid compass remains steady and reliable
under all circumstances and conditions. There are several fluid
compasses in the market at a reasonable price, which can be depended
upon in an emergency. The fluid on which the needle floats is generally
alcohol, to guard against freezing, and is simply a development of a
primitive compass used by the daring seamen of the twelfth century.
This old-fashioned instrument consisted of an iron needle, one end of
which was stuck into a piece of cork. The other end was well rubbed
with a lodestone, and when the cork was floated in an earthenware bowl
of water the end so treated pointed to the magnetic North. In spite of
the meager knowledge of those early navigators concerning variation and
deviation, they generally managed to make a sufficiently good landfall.
It may not be generally known that a sewing needle rubbed on a magnet
and carefully dropped into a vessel of water will float and point to
the North.
The rule of the road at sea requires vessels in a fog to
go at a moderate speed and to blow the foghorn at intervals of not less
than two minutes; when on the starboard tack one blast, when on the
port tack two blasts in succession, and when with the wind abaft the
beam three blasts in succession. It also has certain imperative rules
for a vessel at anchor in a fog.
The law provides that a vessel not under way in a fog
shall at intervals of not more than two minutes ring a bell. It will be
seen therefore that a bell is quite as necessary as a foghorn. If a
boat at anchor or under way in thick weather, with neither bell nor
foghorn in use as provided by the law, should be run into and damaged
or sunk by any other vessel, her owner would have no redress. On the
contrary, if he escaped with his life he could be forced to pay for any
damage, however trifling, the vessel colliding with him sustained in
the act. If he was drowned his estate would be liable.
A bell should form part of the careful boat owner's
outfit. But if you have neglected providing one, don't despair. Get out
a frying pan or a tin kettle and kick up as much racket as you can by
beating one or both with a hammer or a marlinespike. A fish horn has
many times answered the purpose of a foghorn, but I would not recommend
it as a steady substitute. All I wish to convey is that a frying pan
and a fish horn are better than nothing.
The variety of anchor to be carried depends very much upon
choice. There are several kinds for sale quite suitable for small
cruisers, all of which have good points to recommend them.
The law is imperative as regards the carrying of lights by
night when at anchor or under way. If your craft is very small, there
is a light in the market fitted with green and red slides to be shown
when required, which may suit your purpose. But if your craft has any
pretensions to size provide yourself with a pair of brass side lights
and also a good brass anchor light. Avoid those flimsy articles with
which the market is flooded. The best are cheapest in the end. See that
all the lamps you have aboard take the same sized wick. Buy the brand
of oil known as mineral sperm, which is used by all first-class
steamship lines. Its quality has borne the test of years and has never
been found wanting. For lamp cleaning take a plentiful supply of cotton
waste and old newspapers, the last named for polishing the glass. A
hand lead and line must not be forgotten, while an aneroid barometer, a
thermometer and a marine clock with be both useful and ornamental. Do
not forget a canvas bucket and a deck scrubber.
A few tools will be found necessary. A hatchet, hammer,
chisel, file, jackknife, gimlet, screwdriver, small crosscut saw and an
assortment of screws and nails will be about all that is essential in
this direction. A few yards of duck, palm and needles and sewing twine,
a ball of marline, one of spun yarn and a marlinespike may be stowed
away snugly, and their possession in case of need is often a great
boon. The adventurous voyager must use his own discretion as to his
wardrobe. The marine "dude" is in evidence in our midst, and who am I
that I should condemn a man for trying to look his prettiest both
ashore and afloat? Don't forget to buy a good suit of oilers, and don't
fail to slip them on when it rains. When you come to get to my age, and
feel the rheumatism in your old bones, you will wish you had followed
my advice.
Tastes differ so widely that it is hard to advise a man as
to his cuisine when afloat. What would suit an old sea dog "right down
to the ground," might not be palatable to the nautical epicure with a
taste for humming-bird's livers on toast, or other such dainty
kickshaws. Personally, I can enjoy a good square meal of sardines and
hardtack, wash it down with a cup of coffee and wind up with a pipe of
plug tobacco, and conclude that I have feasted like a prince. This is
probably due to my forecastle training. Others are more fastidious.
Luckily this is the age of canned viands, and almost every delicacy
under the sun is put up in convenient form, requiring only a can-opener
to extract the hidden sweetness.
The culinary difficulty that confronts the sailor of small
craft is the cooking stove. Like the servant girl problem, it is still
unsolved. Many great geniuses have wasted the midnight oil and have
nearly exhausted the gray matter of their brains in trying to invent a
stove that shall be suitable for a little cockleshell of a boat with a
penchant for dancing over the waves in lively style. Some have tried
cast-iron stoves with a smokestack, and coal for fuel, and have cursed
their folly ever after. Gasoline stoves, so long as they don't explode
and set fire to the boat, are convenient and cleanly. Various kinds of
alcohol lamps, hung on gimbals to accommodate themselves to the
perpetual motion of a vessel, are in use, and are thoroughly adapted
for making a pot of coffee, tea or chocolate, and for heating a can of
soup or preserved meat. A hungry boatman should not ask for more
luxurious fare. There are preparations of coffee and milk, and cocoa
and milk, in cans, which can be got ready in a hurry and with the least
possible trouble. They are also nice, and I do not hesitate to stamp
them with the seal of my approval. By looking over the catalogue of the
canned goods of any first-class grocer, you will find a quantity of
varieties to select from, all of excellent quality and moderate in
price. In order to provide against waste, it would be advisable if
cruising alone to buy the smallest packages in which the viands are put
up. Hardtack should be kept in airtight tin boxes to guard against
damp. Matches can be stowed in a glass fruit jar, and in this snug
receptacle defy salt spray and sea air which threaten the integrity of
brimstone and phosphorus. The man who indulges in tobacco (and what
lover of the sea does not?) will find it well to pack a supply of wind
matches in a glass jar, so that he can keep his match safe replenished
and be able to light his pipe or cigar no matter how the breeze may
blow. I have found tobacco a mighty source of comfort under adverse
mental and physical conditions, and its soothing influence has made
many a trick at the tiller seem less weary.
Cooking in a small craft tossed like a cork on the waves
is a confounded nuisance, but a hot meal tastes well after you have
been stuck at the tiller for four or five hours in squally weather. I
remember an incident that occurred on board my cutter, the Heather
Bell, when ingenuity provided a hot breakfast which otherwise we
should not have enjoyed. We were caught in a southerly gale in the
English Channel, and under trysail and spitfire jib we were doing our
best to claw off a lee shore. I had been at the tiller nearly all
night, and when day broke I was thoroughly exhausted. The little cutter
-- she was only fifteen tons -- was pitching and 'scending at such a
lively rate that lighting a fire in the stove was out of the question.
My chum, however, managed to make some coffee with the aid of a spirit
lamp, and also to cook a couple of plump Yarmouth bloaters. This
last-named feat was difficult, but my chum was a man of genius. An
inspiration came to him. He split the bloaters down the backs, put them
in an extra deep frying pan, such as should always be used at sea,
deluged them with Scotch whiskey, old and smoky, and set fire to it. I
can see him now, hanging on to the cabin ladder with one hand and
balancing the frying pan in the other so that the blazing whiskey
should not overflow and set fire to the cabin. Those bloaters were
fine. They went right to the spot. It was rather an expensive mode of
cooking, for the whiskey in question was choice, but we both agreed
that the fishes were worthy of it. I suppose they would have tasted
just as well if they had been cooked in alcohol, but that idea did not
occur to my friend. A beefsteak prepared in the same way was delicious.
We had it for dinner, and soon after there came a shift of the wind,
which enabled us to run for Newhaven and sleep comfortably.
You should take with you a box of seidlitz powders, a
bottle of vaseline, court plaster, a box of your pet pills, a bottle of
extract of witch hazel, a bottle of extract of ginger, a bottle of Sun
cholera mixture, and a bottle of Horsford's acid phosphate. These
should be stowed away in a medicine-chest, which, if you have any
mechanical skill at all, you can make yourself. If you are no hand at a
saw or a chisel, a small medicine-chest, filled with all the requisites
and adapted for use in a boat, can be obtained from any good drugstore
at a reasonable figure.
A locker for the storage of ice is indispensable for one's
comfort when sailing in these latitudes in summer. The locker should be
lined with zinc, and should be fitted with a brass tap to draw off the
waste water. Wrap your ice up in paper first, and then in a piece of
coarse flannel, and you will be surprised at the length of time it will
keep. A porous earthenware bottle should form part of your equipment.
It can be suspended in the draught, and will supply you with a
moderately cool drink when your ice is all used.
Remember that sea air generates damp very quickly in a
cabin. Bedding should be aired and sunned if possible every day, and
the cabin should be well ventilated. Cleanliness and comfort go
together in a boat, and scrubbing-brush and swab should not be allowed
to get dry-rot by disuse. Cultivate order and tidiness so far as the
domestic economy of your yacht is concerned. Have a place for
everything and everything in its place, or your little cabin will
present a slovenly appearance instead of looking pretty and snug.
If the interior of your cabin is painted white, use enamel
paint, which dries hard and smooth, and can be easily cleaned by
washing with warm (not hot) water, soap and sponge.
Cocoa-nut matting is better than carpet or oilcloth as a
covering for a small craft's cabin floor. It is difficult to dry carpet
when it gets thoroughly drenched with salt water. Oilcloth is
comfortless and cold to bare feet, but cocoa-nut matting is open to
neither of these objections. It is easily washed and dries quickly.
The cushions for the cabin may be stuffed with cork
shavings or horsehair and covered with india-rubber sheeting. These may
again be covered with corduroy or blue flannel, as the india-rubber
sheeting is cold. Mattresses made of deer's hair are in the market, and
are quite comfortable. Being buoyant, they can be used as lifesavers in
an emergency.
Cups, saucers, plates and dishes of enameled iron or agate
ware are unbreakable and much superior to those of tin, which rust and
are hard to keep clean. Cookery and glassware are easily destroyed in a
cruising craft, in spite of the ingenious racks and lockers invented to
preserve them.
Don't omit to include fishing tackle among your stores.
There is lots of sport in catching bluefish or mackerel when under way,
and many a weary hour when your craft is becalmed may be beguiled with
hook and line. Besides, a fish fresh from the water forms an agreeable
and appetizing change from the monotony of canned goods. There is no
necessity to purchase expensive tackle for sea-fishing. All that is
wanted is strong and serviceable gear. For blue-fishing provide
yourself with a well-laid cotton line, which is not liable to kink. The
line should be seven-sixteenths of an inch in circumference for the big
fish one catches in spring and fall, and the hooks should be strong. It
is well to carry with you several varieties of squid. For smaller
bluefish a lighter, cotton-braided line is good. When I go blue-fishing
I take rubber finger-stalls along to prevent my fingers being chafed by
the line. My readers should do the same. Horse-mackerel and Spanish
mackerel are often taken with a bluefish line.
For navigating purposes all that is really necessary for a
coasting voyage is a chart of the waters you propose to sail in, a pair
of dividers and parallel rulers, and a book of sailing directions. A
patent log may be added if so desired, and will add to the accuracy of
your dead reckoning.
Thus equipped, the navigator may boldly venture forth
either by himself or with a congenial companion. If he does not enjoy
every moment of his cruise, and gain health and strength from the tonic
sea breezes, he can safely conclude that Nature never intended him for
a sailor. In that case, he should dispose of his craft at once and seek
such consolation as agricultural pursuits afford.
...to
Plywood Boats or to The
Cheap
Page or to The
Odd
Sails
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 headroom. 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.
