Part 4
Let me here repeat some former remarks on the subject: It is often a matter of wonder to landsmen why sailors continue to use square sails, when to all intents the fore-and-aft canvas is so much easier to handle. So it is in smooth water and under average conditions; so long as one of our typical fore-and-aft schooners can carry all sail and make progress in a windward direction there is no abler vessel afloat. But when obliged to shorten down or make a run for it, they are the worst craft in the world. So long as you can keep sail on them they will do all that a ship can be asked to do, but once they are stripped in a gale, good-bye to safety. Take a good look at an ordinary two-masted coaster, and you will comprehend at once why this is. These vessels have enormously long lower masts, and the spread of the rigging is in consequence small; their booms are long and heavy, and all the weight above deck is centered in a line over the keel. The pressure of canvas, except when the sails are winged, is all on one side, and is exerted so as to bring a twisting strain upon the supporting spars. There is not, as in the square-rigger, a balancing of weights and strains. The freer these vessels are sailing the more pronounced is this strain. The only relief the spar can find is to impart this strain to the hull, which in consequence forces the bow in the opposite direction and brings a pressure upon the helm. To prevent this action a reducing of the after canvas is necessary.
A close study of the fore-and-aft rigs used along our coast will show what devices have been resorted to in order to remedy this defect. In the first place, there was the subdividing of the mainsail--making a three-master; then a gradual reduction of the spanker, until on many of our three-masted schooners it is to-day the smallest of the three lower sails. At the same time the lower masts have been shortened and the hoists of the topsails increased. On the great lakes the fresh-water man has reduced his spanker to almost the proportions of a ketch's mizzen, the necessity of more constant jibing having forced him to this change. But alter as you please, the fore-and-after is still a bad runner when winds blow strong and seas run high.
Our modern racing schooners are a particularly bad type. They are really large sloops with a fake foresail, this latter bit of canvas being more ornamental than useful. A good specimen of the rig proper are some of our large cruising schooners, with wide-footed foresails and short main booms. The pilot-boat and fisherman rigs are also excellent types.
In a proper schooner the foresail should be in such a position as to allow the vessel to be handled under it alone, as it is the last sail to take off in heavy weather. It should be broad-footed in order to trim properly; you cannot trim a narrow-footed foresail so as to draw when going to windward unless it has a lug; this lug is a nuisance, as it obliges the tending of the sheet when tacking. The main boom should not go over the taffrail beyond easy reach. A forty-foot pole-mast schooner makes a very handy boat for two men to work. Her heaviest sail is lighter than the heaviest sail of a yawl or ketch of the same size. This is something you must always take into consideration when choosing a rig for cruising. The average yachtsman is a man who does not do manual labor for a living, and is consequently soft-muscled. Handling sails, unless you are constantly at it, is hard labor, and if a boat is short-handed is sometimes a heavy tax on the strength of the crew. Any one who has hoisted a heavy mainsail by himself will understand this. Many a time after making sail or reefing when alone I have lain down completely exhausted.
A man who intends to employ a crew can afford to ignore this question, as he can suit his crew to his boat; but when you depend upon amateurs for help you cannot do so. One day you may have a double watch, and the next day nobody. So it is best to select a rig of such weight as you can handle yourself if necessary. This makes you to a certain extent independent of your friends.
_ON SAIL AS AN AUXILIARY_
"_When blows the breeze we spread our sail And save the gasoline, But when the gentle zephyrs fail We start the old machine; And with a clank of shaft and crank Go rattling into port-- And this is what, to be quite frank, Some folks consider sport._"
ON SAIL AS AN AUXILIARY
One day, while standing talking to a builder, we were joined by the owner of a naphtha launch who was desirous of having his vessel rigged as a yawl, and had come to get the builder's opinion as to what the change would accomplish and cost. In response to an inquiry as to what speed he might expect to get out of the craft under canvas, the builder answered, "four miles." "Then," replied the owner in jubilant tones, "she will go eleven miles, as I get seven out of her now without any sail." He was greatly surprised, and rather suspicious of our knowledge, when we informed him that if sail increased the speed of his craft over her maximum to the extent of half-a-mile an hour, he might consider himself fortunate. Now, this man is by no means a lone bird in his belief; he shares the misconception with many launch-owners and others. Like some of our popular authors who write sea stories that are not sea stories, the average man firmly believes that steamships can and do sail, and it will take many years of pounding to get this idea out of the public's head. There are afloat steam vessels that can and do sail, but they are sailing vessels equipped with engines. In former times almost all ocean-going steam craft could work to leeward under canvas, but they, unlike the vessel of to-day, were heavily rigged, most of them carrying full sets of yards forward, and spreading many thousand feet of cloth. The steam vessel of this age, when put to using sail, simply drifts. Except as a check to rolling, the sails carried by steam vessels are of little use.
Now, to the question of what use is sail as an auxiliary power. In vessels of a speed exceeding ten knots, it is of little or no use, except when due to the form of the hull, or for other reasons the slip of the screw is excessive. As, for instance, in a vessel towing others, such as sea-going tugs, where the actual speed is one-half of the screw speed, sail is an aid. Again, in a vessel of bad form, when, frequently owing to the weight on the engine it is unable to run at its highest working speed, sail is an aid, as it lifts some of the weight off the engine, and allows an increase of revolutions without an increase of fuel expenditure. For this purpose, fore-and-aft canvas is of doubtful utility, the square sail being far better. But in high-powered, fine-lined vessels auxiliary sail is of no use whatever. The little that might be gained by employing it under the most favorable circumstances is offset by the retarding effect of the windage under unfavorable circumstances.
A vessel whose screw speed is eight knots and whose actual speed is six knots has a slip of twenty-five per cent. Supposing that her sail power is sufficient to drive her five knots or three knots in excess of the slip. Now, if her speed be increased to eleven knots by using canvas, it must not only take up the slip, but induce an acceleration of the engine, so as to give an additional screw speed of three knots--an increase of 37-1/2 per cent. over the working speed of the engine. This is practically impossible. No engine is built to run at a speed of 37-1/2 per cent. over its working speed, yet unless the screw travels as fast as the hull, it is useless. It is exactly the same thing as when trying to row a boat running under sail; unless you move the oars faster through the water than the boat is moving you do not assist in the propulsion. Reasoning from this, we may lay it down as an axiom, that: When a vessel's maximum speed under power exceeds her maximum speed under canvas, the use of sail in conjunction with power will not increase the speed beyond the percentage of slip.
When mechanical propulsion is the auxiliary power, we have a different problem. Take a vessel capable of being driven by sail at a speed of eight knots, and by her engines alone at four knots. Now, if she be sailing at a speed of eight knots, and we start her engine to make the number of revolutions necessary to induce a speed of four knots, the screw, not traveling as fast as the hull, will be dragged to the amount of the difference between its speed and the speed of the boat--four knots. In that the screw shall have a propulsive force it must be driven at a speed to exceed eight knots, an increase of over 100 per cent. Reasoning from this, we may lay it down as an axiom, that: A vessel whose maximum speed under sail exceeds her maximum speed under power will not increase her speed by employing sail and screw conjointly.
While auxiliary sail is of little or no value, auxiliary mechanical propulsion is. But its chief value lies in it as a substitute, and not as an auxiliary. The wind--the fuel of the sail--is not only a variable quantity, but frequently an absent one. A small vessel, such as are the majority of our cruising yachts, seldom exceeds a speed of eight knots, and as a general average taken through a summer's cruising do not log more than four, much of this low average is due to the hours spent in calms and light airs; and if we add the time lost in waiting for a breeze, the average will fall still lower. A yacht in sailing 100 miles in the usual summer weather takes, we will say, twenty-five hours. Sixty miles of this is made in a fair breeze in ten hours, then six hours in which she makes ten miles, leaving nine hours in which to make the other thirty.
60 miles 10 hours. 6 miles an hour. 10 " 6 " 1-2/3 " " 30 " 9 " 3-1/3 " " Average for 100 miles, 4 " "
Let us suppose that a similar craft is fitted with a motor to drive her at a speed of five miles an hour. She voyages 100 miles, the first sixty in ten hours. During the doldrums she uses her power for six hours, and makes thirty miles, and in sixteen hours has covered ninety miles against the sail yacht's seventy. Having made the distance at an average speed of 5-5/8 miles, she is within sight of her port when the other is thirty miles off.
Last summer I ran thirty-eight miles in fourteen hours in a small sloop. Thirty-two miles of this distance was made in eight hours, the remaining six miles taking six hours to cover, and if you analyze a set of cruising runs you will see that mine was an exceptionally good performance. I usually, in cruising, figure on making an average of three miles, thirty miles being a fair day's work and forty a good one, while a fifty-mile run is possible only once or twice during the season. This is in a boat whose maximum speed is seven knots.
I have not the slightest doubt but what a man with a yacht fitted with a motor capable of driving her at a speed of five miles, and using the engine only as a substitute for sail when the wind is dead or fickle, could cruise twice as far and see twice as much as one who depended solely upon canvas. This is a deal to promise, but no doubt those who have had a long experience in cruising in our Eastern waters will underwrite the opinion.
But while auxiliary power has its advantages, it also has its disadvantages. It increases the expense; it takes up room in the boat; it is noisy, and, to a certain extent, disagreeable, due mostly to the use of a fuel which is not equal, odoriferously speaking, to genuine wood violets. But its chief drawback is that its use tends to make cruising less toilsome and hazardous. Like all modern
"Inventions that save our seamen's lives, And murder the breed of sailor men,"
its effect is to discount skill and pluck, to take away from voyaging that uncertainty which is the chief charm of the cruiser's existence. The fact that you leave port with a certainty of getting to your destination on time, barring accidents, makes somewhat monotonous an event that otherwise containing a large element of chance induces a corresponding degree of excitement. There is probably no pastime so tiresome to an active man as steam yachting, especially if it be in familiar waters. A steam yacht is a lazy man's palace and an active man's prison. Except when there is a race or a difficult bit of navigation, I would as soon run a trolley car as a power boat. But, then, happily for the world, we are not all taken off the same molds. Many men yacht for pleasure, and find such pleasure in idleness. I don't. I find my pleasure in physical exertion, and in opposing what skill and knowledge I may possess to the task of getting the better of the elements. But as age and rheumatism tighten their grip, my heart is being gradually weaned from the sail, and I find myself thinking seriously, if, after all, it will not be better to have a little power under the deck to fall back on at certain times.
_ON REEFING_
_Precaution is the mother of safety._
ON REEFING
This is a short chapter on a short subject, but one that is of interest to the green hand. Men often ask when it is time to reef? It is always time to reef when you think it is. The moment you would feel easier and your boat handle better by having less sail spread, is the time to shorten down. Never mind what anybody else is doing or what anybody else tells you. It is your boat, not some other boat that is worrying, and yourself, and not some other person, who is in charge. Never carry sail for the sake of carrying it; the ignorant may praise your recklessness and pluck, but the experienced man will call you either a lubber or a fool.
Never let the action of another guide you in this particular, unless the action agrees with your own judgment. It is very common for young sailors to reef or not reef as they see some other man, and consequently to carry sail much to the risk of their vessel and lives. You must remember that these remarks of mine have nothing to do with racing. In racing, a man cannot reef when he wants to, but when he can; therefore, he frequently carries sail when he would give a good slice of his daily income to have it off, and often keeps in his reefs when he would like to shake them out, but does not for the same reason. Then, again, in racing, boats are always in company, and if an accident happens someone is close aboard to give assistance; but in cruising this is not so, and many a life has been lost for want of a reef in time.
When I was young and fresh I had an idea that if anyone could carry sail on a boat I could do the same. One day I had a lesson that made me think, and partially cured me of the habit. I went with a clever old boatman across the Sound to bring home a new cat. We each took a crew, and, to return, he sailed the new boat, and I the one we had come over in. Halfway across it came on to blow very hard, and it was all I could do to keep my boat on her feet. My crew wanted me to stop and reef, but as the new boat kept on, I insisted upon following her, being afraid that the old man would laugh at me. In plain talk, I was afraid of being thought a coward, and for this I jeopardized my own and the lives of the other boys. When at last, after a struggle and half full of water, we reached port, the old man met me with a torrent of invectives, calling me a fool and several other hard names for not reefing.
"But you didn't reef," I protested. "Reef!" he exclaimed. "No, for I couldn't; but I'd given fourteen dollars if I could have got that sail down. Do you think I was carrying whole sail for fun?" It seems the halliards, being new, had jammed, and they could not get the sail down, so had to lug it. This taught me a lesson, one that I have never forgotten; and oftentimes when I see a man struggling along under too much sail, I wonder if he, like the old boatman, wouldn't give fourteen dollars if he could get that sail down.
The first thing when you get a crew is to break them in to a method of reefing. Give each man a place and teach him to keep it; this is the secret of rapid and efficient work. Let us suppose that you are in command of a small sloop, with a total crew of four. It comes on to blow, and you decide to reef. There is a bit of lee under the shore, and you go in for it. Now you have decided to reef without anchoring, and when close enough luff up and prepare to lower the mainsail. Your mate, your best hand, and the man in his watch go to the halliards, you stay at the helm and your watch-mate takes the sheet.
Now, if you lower the mainsail all the way down, you will have to take in your headsail and drift; this will soon take you out of your kindly lee, but if you can keep some after-sail up, with the jib on an easy sheet, you can jolly her up to windward a bit and keep close inshore. Having decided on this you order the sail lowered down to the reef. The getting down of the sail quickly depends on your cleverness at the helm; you must spill just at the right moment. As the sail comes down your two men handle and lay the sail along the boom, the mate tending the halliards. When the tack cringle is low enough he belays the halliards and ties down the tack. By this time you have the pendant ready, and when the mate shouts "All fast," you haul out, one man helping you and the others shaking and lighting out the canvas. When this is handed out and made fast, the hands begin to tie the points, beginning in the middle and working forward and aft.
Your business is to look after the dog-ear, to tie in the outboard points, and pass a lashing round the clew, wrapping it round the boom. The points are passed between the foot of the sail and the lacing, not between the lacing and the boom, a common error with green hands. Tie your points with a square bow knot; don't tie them too tight; try and put the same strain on all. Don't haul out your clew too hard, especially if it is raining or the water is flying. The pendant will shrink one way, the sail the other, and in consequence the canvas be pulled out of life. As soon as all the points are tied, look them over carefully to see that they belong to the proper reef, and are not tied cross-faced, and, if correct, hoist away.
Lazy-jacks on a boom are of great assistance in taking a sail in, but they are in the way when reefing. Quarter-lifts as substitutes are better for small craft. The reef points should be made of different kinds of stuff, or else be dyed different colors, so as to be easily distinguishable. I prefer different kinds of stuff, as they can be told by the feel at night. The first reef being cotton line, the second manila, and the third cotton.
If you are going to tie in more than one reef, it is best to tie in the first, then the next over it, and so on. This also makes a much neater looking job. Teach your men to roll the sail up tightly before tying in; nothing looks so bad as a reef made up of a series of bags.
If you are caught out in the open, and have to reef, it is best to lower all down and reef running off; by getting the boom firmly lashed amidships you can handle the sail, whereas if you lay-to the sea will make trouble. In running off carefully tend your helm, and keep the vessel moving, or you may get pooped. If anywhere near shore it is best to go in, anchor and reef in quiet, and at your leisure. The methods of reefing a sloop are the same for reefing a cat, but if you have a yawl, ketch or schooner, the work is much more simple and easy.
Always, when anchored in an open roadstead, or in any place where you may have to get out in a hurry, reef your large sails before turning in. Then, if it comes on to blow in the night, you are ready for it. If you expect a squall to hit you, in a place where you cannot anchor, reef down, and do so in plenty of time. Before leaving harbor, if there is any question of weather outside, reef and carry them out with you, until you get the heft of the breeze; if it is lighter than you expected, it is a simple job to shake out.
Reefed jibs are not much use; they seldom work well, and it is far better to shift headsails than to reef them. The jibs should be snap-hooked on the stay; in this way they can be quickly shifted. Reefing on a bowsprit in a seaway is a difficult and dangerous job. I shall speak further of this matter of head-sails in another chapter.
_ON ANCHORS AND ANCHORING_
_"Let's forge a goodly anchor--a bower thick and broad; For a heart of oak is hanging on every blow I bode; And I see a good ship riding all in a perilous road-- The low reef roaring on her lee; the roll of ocean poured From stem to stern, sea after sea; the mainmast by the board;" The bulwarks down; the rudder gone; the boats stove at the chains; But courage still, brave mariners--the bower yet remains! And not an inch to flinch he deigns--save when ye pitch sky high; Then moves his head, as though he said, "Fear nothing--here am I."_ --FERGUSON
ON ANCHORS AND ANCHORING
One of man's oldest, simplest and most perfect instruments--the anchor. Like all early inventions, it obtained its present form by a slow process of evolution, and, as is the case with nearly all implements of the same nature, it is to-day to be found in use in every step-form which during the gradual process of development it assumed. The primal anchor of stone is still universally employed, its immediate successors, the stone-weighted net and log, are yet in use in the East, and iron forms that might have found their shape under the hammer blows of the sinewy Sidonian smiths still swing from the bows of vessels plying the Indian seas.
As to who first forged anchors of iron there is some doubt, the ancient historians disagreeing on this point with amiable unanimity that characterizes all their statements in regard to the origin of things, both animate and inanimate. The balance of evidence appears to favor the Phrygians, a people of Asia Minor, whose most celebrated king, Midas, is well remembered as the avaricious monarch who had the unfortunate experience with gold, as related in a yarn which probably originated in the imaginative brain of some ancient free-silver orator.
But whether these people or their contemporaries, the ingenious, rich and daring Phoenicians, first forged it, there is no question but what iron anchors were originally used by the maritime nations inhabiting the shore of the great tideless sea. The anchors were, as I have said, of stone and of wood weighted with stone and metal, such as are still used by the Chinese and Malays. It is easy to see how from the latter came the shape of the anchor of to-day. From the use of a straight balk of timber to one with a crook is a natural step. It is much easier to lash a stone to a crook of wood by placing it between the trunk and branch than it is to lash it to a straight stick.