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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