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.
