THOUGH I
recommend the catboat as a general craft for knocking about and having
a good time in, I am not blind to the advantages of the yawl rig. In
fact, the bold young seaman contemplating long cruises and sometimes
venturing out of sight of land will find that the yawl rig possesses no
mean merit. For singlehanded cruising its worth has long been
recognized. The sails are so divided that they are small and easy to
handle, but this division of sail inevitably decreases the speed and
also the weatherly qualities of the boat. If we take a catboat and
change her into a yawl rig she will not be nearly so fast, nor will she
point so close to the wind. There are fathoms of scientific reasons for
this with which I will not bother my readers. Suffice it to say that it
has been demonstrated practically over and over again.
But although the yawl-rigged sailing boat of the smallest
type has at least three sails -- foresail, mainsail and mizzen -- yet
the last named, after once being set, practically takes care of itself.
The mainsail, too, is quite easily handled, the whole sail being in the
body of the boat. The foresail sometimes gives a little annoyance in
taking it in, if the boat is pitching her nose under in a steep sea.
This, however, is unavoidable. Headsails on all sailing vessels, big or
little, have never been conducive to dry skins under certain conditions
of wind and sea. The yawl is always under control, and in this
attribute lies her chief charm. When a squall is bearing down all one
has to do is to lower the mainsail and pass a tyer or two round it to
keep it muzzled. When the gust strikes the boat she is under easy sail
and is not likely to come to grief. If the squall is of exceptional
strength, ease off the fore sheet and keep the sail shaking a little
until you have felt the full strength of the wind. Act then as judgment
may dictate. If the blow is very heavy and seems likely to last it may
be necessary to take in the foresail and the mizzen, and close reef the
mainsail.
If you are sailing with the wind abeam and a squall smites
you it may not be necessary to lower the mainsail at all. Ease the
sheet right off so as to spill the wind, and you will pass safely
through the ordeal without parting a rope yarn.
In getting under way or in working up to anchorage in a
crowded harbor or roadstead the yawl rig is one of the handiest known,
for by having the mainsail furled the speed of the boat is reduced so
that you can pick your way among the craft without danger of collision
or striking flaws. So many famous cruises have been made in small
yawl-rigged craft that there can be no doubt about their adaptability
for such work, and to the man anxious for more ambitious achievement
than merely sailing in rivers, bays and sheltered harbors, I most
certainly would recommend the rig.
Despite the yawl's certain safety for single handed
cruising, I am not in favor of sailing by myself. I prefer a congenial
companion to share whatever pleasure or peril may be encountered. Of
course one must exercise some wise discrimination in the choice of a
cruising companion; for when once at sea there is no way of ridding
yourself of an objectionable mate except throwing him overboard, which
would not be exactly fair to him. Besides, he might throw you
overboard, which would be bad for you. There are, however, hundreds of
good yachtsmen and boatmen who have made long voyages alone and have
written charming accounts of their nautical expeditions. John
McGregor's Voyage Alone in the Yawl Rob Roy and E. Middleton's Cruise
of the Kate (also a yawl) are two entertaining books of sea travel
which I heartily recommend to those who contemplate sailing by
themselves.
While I am in favor of a catboat for general purposes in
the neighborhood of New York, yet when long distance trips are to be
made the yawl rig will, on the whole, be found preferable.
That keen sportsman, Mr. W.H.H. Murray, is a firm believer
in the yawl rig for cruising. In OUTING for May, 1891, there appeared a
most valuable article from his facile pen entitled "How I Sail Champlain."
The Champlain is of sharpie model, thirty feet on the waterline. She is
of remarkably strong construction, her oaken keel being sixteen by
twenty inches amidships and tapering properly fore and aft. Through
this keel is sunk a mortise four inches wide and sixteen feet long,
through which the centerboard works. This "fin" is of oak planking
thick enough to easily enter the case when hoisted, but leaving little
space between it and the case when in use. The centerboard is sixteen
feet long, four feet deep forward and seven feet aft, and it has
fifteen hundred pounds of iron for ballast.
Mr. Murray says:
"When the centerboard is lowered this mass of
metal is eight feet below her waterline, and guarantees a stability
adequate to resist any pressure which the wind can put upon her sails
and the sails withstand. Of course I am speaking with the supposition
that the boat receives, when under stress, judicious management."
The centerboard, which weighs two thousand pounds, is
lifted by a "differential hoist," by means of which
"the helmsman, with one hand on the tiller, can,
if need occurs, with the other easily run the heavy board rapidly up
into the case. The value of this adjustment can only be appreciated by
a cruising yachtsman. It places him in perfect control of his craft
under all conditions of varying depth of water and difficult weather.
In a heavy seaway; in rapidly shoaling water on an unknown coast; when
suddenly compelled to beat up against a swiftly flowing tide; or when
finding himself unexpectedly near a reef, unobserved through
carelessness or not plainly charted -- this hoist is simply priceless.
It is not over expensive, and can easily be adjusted to any yacht."
The cockpit is roomy, and, because of its high coamings,
is also deep. The cabin is sixteen feet long, the forward half being
permanently roofed. The after half of the cabin is constructed, as to
its roof, in equal divisions. The forward half is tracked, and the
after half is grooved to run upon it. Mr. Murray finds this arrangement
most convenient, as it gives to the yacht such coolness and comfort as
cannot be obtained in a cabin permanently roofed. The whole roof is so
fitted to the coamings that it can be quickly and easily removed and
stowed, leaving the yacht to be sailed as an open one, decked from stem
to midship section. This arrangement is an admirable one for harbor
sailing in bright weather or for racing.
Regarding the handiness of Champlain Mr. Murray
says:
"All yachtsmen know what a disagreeable job it is
to reef a sloop or catboat in rough water, and from this cause many
skippers will delay reefing as long as possible and often until too
late. And because of this many accidents happen yearly. In this respect
the yawl rig shows to the greatest advantage and commends itself to all
sensible yachtsmen. For when the moment has come to reef, if the boat
is running free her head is brought up to the wind, the mizzen and jib
sheets trimmed in, and with the main boom well inboard the pennants are
lashed and the reef points tied down, when she is let off again and
goes bowling along on her former course. In Champlain the three reef
cringles on the leech of the mainsail are all within easy reach from
the cockpit, and the skipper, without leaving the tiller, can lash the
pennants, and hence, with only one assistant, the three reefs can
successively, if need be, be tied down. Indeed, so well do the jib and
mizzen sail work in unison, that unless the wind is very puffy and
variable, the helm can be lashed and she will hold her course steadily
onward while the skipper is tying down the after reef points. It is a
matter of pleasant surprise to one not accustomed to this rig how
easily and rapidly a reef in most trying conditions can be taken in the
mainsail of a yawl whose sails are well balanced.
"Moreover, unless the squall is a very heavy one, a yawl
can be eased through it without reefing at all. For when the wind comes
roaring down and the white line of froth and spray is right upon you,
the boat can be brought up to the wind and the mainsheet eased
handsomely out, and with jib and mizzen drawing finely and the main
boom off to leeward the wind whistles harmlessly between the masts,
while the yacht, only slightly disturbed in her balance, sails steadily
along. Or, if the squall is a heavy one and there is no time to reef
down before it strikes, the yacht can be luffed up, the mainsail let
down at a run, and with the belly of the sail held within the lazy
lines the yacht is under safe conditions. But ordinarily it is better
to reef or even tie down the mainsail snugly, and as in a yawl it can
be done rapidly and easily there is no reason why it should not be done
and everything be kept shipshape.
"In cruising I often sailed Champlain under jib and
mizzen alone, with the mainsail stowed and the boom crutched and tied
snugly down amidships, especially in the night time when it was very
dark and the weather foul. Under this scant canvas with a favorable
wind she would sail along at a very fair rate of speed and even make
good progress in beating up against quite a sea, and I need not say
that it adds greatly to the pleasure of cruising in a small yacht with
only one man for your crew to feel that you have your boat in a
condition of perfect control. It is evident that with no other rig can
this condition to the same degree be obtained or such a sense of
absolute security be enjoyed.
"To an amateur nothing is more trying than coming to or
getting away from moorings, especially if the wind is blowing strongly
and the anchorage ground is crowded with other yachts, not to speak of
vessels of commerce, bateaux, tugs and ferryboats. Under such
circumstances it is no easy matter for any, save an expert, to work a
sloop or catboat or schooner safely out through the crowded harbor or
basin to the open water beyond; and it is all the more trying to a
skipper if there is a strong tide running at the moment.
"But with a yawl the difficulties of the situation are
almost wholly removed. For with mainsail unlashed he can hoist his
anchor or cast off from moorings, and under his two small sails work
his boat out slowly and safely from the jammed basin or crowded space
within the breakwater. He must be a tyro indeed who cannot safely
manage a yawl under the worst possible conditions of this sort.
"In cruising, if the weather is threatening it is well
to carry a single reef in the mainsail until it clears up, for a yawl
works well under such a sail with jib and mizzen furled. In such trim
the yacht is as a catboat with a small sail, and as her main boom is
shorter than a catboat's or a sloop's she can be worked in a very heavy
sea with her boom's end well above the rollers. And I know of nothing
more trying to a skipper than to sail his craft with his boom's end
half the time under water. In such a condition the spars, rigging and
boat are under a stress and strain which every prudent skipper dreads
and seeks to avoid, and it speaks volumes in favor of the yawl rig to
say that with it such a trying condition can never arise. Indeed a yawl
under a double-reefed mainsail alone is in perfect trim for scudding.
If well modeled she will neither yaw nor thrash the water with her
boom's end, but career along almost with the speed of the wind itself.
For her canvas is low down, as it should be, and her boom carried well
above the seething water. In this shape, moreover, she can lay a course
with the wind well over her quarter without strain, and it must be a
very hard blow and rough water indeed to give anxiety to any on board
of her."
That the Champlain is a capital sea boat is beyond
question. Her owner thus describes a run on the lower St. Lawrence in
returning from a cruise to the Saguenay:
"We passed Baie St. Paul in the evening, whirled
along by a rising gale blowing directly up the river. The night was
pitchy dark, the tide running fiercely on the ebb at the rate of five
miles an hour at the least. The water was very wild, as one can easily
imagine. Stemming such a current it would not do to shorten sail if one
wished to pass Cape Tourmente and get into quiet water, the Isle of
Orleans and the north shore, so we let every sail stand, cleated the
sheets tightly and let her drive. How she did tear onward! The froth
and spume lay deep on her pathways and afterdeck. The waves crested
fiercely, rolling against the current, and the black water broke into
phosphor as we slashed through it. I do not recall that I ever saw a
yacht forced along more savagely. How the water roared under the ledges
and along the rough shores of Tourmente! And I was profoundly grateful
when we were able to bear off to starboard and run into the still water
back of Orleans. Perhaps that midnight cup of coffee did not taste
well! Its heat ran through my chilled veins like Chartreuse. I can
taste it yet ! "
The ordinary jib-and-mainsail-rigged boat, as seen in the
waters round New York, might easily be improved upon. In the first
place, the majority of them are too much after the skimming-dish
pattern to suit my fancy. Then the mast is stepped as a rule too far
forward for the best work, and renders reefing difficult, as she will
not "lay to" comfortably under her headsail, whereas if the mast of a
boat is stepped well aft, cutter fashion, the boat will lay to quite
well, and reefing the mainsail is easy. The American sloop rig is open
to the same criticism, and that is why the English way of rigging a
single-sticker has been adopted in all our new racing craft. To my mind
there is nothing more hideous than a "bobbed" jib. It renders good
windward work impossible, as it causes a boat to sag off to leeward and
is in other ways a detriment. A small boat with the mast stepped in the
right place and carrying a jib and a mainsail is, however, a very
satisfactory craft, good at beating to windward as well as reaching or
running. I should advise that a "spitfire" or storm jib be carried
along whenever a sail of any distance is contemplated, and also a gaff
headed trysail, so that the adventurous skipper may be always prepared
for storm and stress of weather. This extra "muslin" takes up little
room when properly rolled up.
The simplest and safest rig in the world is the
leg-of-mutton sail. It is the one fitted exactly for river work, where
one is sure to encounter puffs of some force as ravines are reached or
valleys passed. To amateurs it is the sail par excellence for
experimenting with, for no matter how many blunders are made a mishap
is well nigh impossible. The leg-of-mutton sail has no gaff, nor need
it have a boom. There is little or no leverage aloft, and all the power
for mischief it has can be taken out of it by slacking off the sheet
and spilling the wind. The learner might with advantage practice with a
sail of this shape until he becomes proficient. If he eventually
determines upon a jib and mainsail or yawl rig for permanent use, he
may avoid wasting it by having it made over into a storm trysail.
I would strongly advise every amateur skipper to shun the
ballast-fin device as he would shun cold poison or a contagious
disease. That is unless he intends to go in for a regular racing
career, in which case the cups carried off might possibly compensate
him for the woe, the anguish and the premature gray hairs inseparable
from this contrivance. Mind you these remarks of mine apply only to
amateurs and not to grizzled sailing masters of yachts who fully
understand how to navigate and handle all types of pleasure craft.
Theoretically the ballast-fin has many obvious advantages.
TYPE OF FIN-KEEL.
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
landlocked 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
sail spread. 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 businesslike, 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 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 abeam. 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 rowboats, 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 practicing 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.
SAIL PLAN OF FIN-KEEL.
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