Oct. 26, 1895. 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



367 



new deed would long since have been a thing of the past; but his hard 

 and earnest work since 1889 in behalf of the New York Y. C. and 

 against the interests of British yachtsmen has at last accomplished its 

 end and made futile all future objections on the score of legality or 

 fairness. 



It is quite evident that neither British yachtsmen nor the British 

 papers have any appreciation of the change in the New York Y. 0. 

 within the past year; but from all that we have seen and heard this 

 season we believe that the club is at last fully awake to all the con- 

 ditions of the case. Nothing more is heard of the blustering asser- 

 tions that the new deed is fair and legal, or that the dimension clause 

 will he enforced; but, on the other hand, the club has made every pos- 

 sible effort this season to give fair terms to the last rhallenger. There 

 are no longer excuses and justifications for the new deed, but the 

 club has come to a full realization of not only the wrong, but the mis- 

 take of its act of 1887; of the poor position which it has held in the 

 opinions of American as well as British yachtsmen ; and the very nar- 

 row escape from an ignominious back-down which it has had through 

 the good offices of Lord Dunraven. While it haB thus been spared the 

 painful necessity of an open repudiation of the new deed, we believe 

 that the club now appreciates the fact and is desirous in the future of 

 placing the racing for the America's Cup on that h'gh plane which it 

 should have occupied from the first. 



As far as the conduct of the present series of races is concerned, we 

 believe that the action of the club and its committees has been fair, 

 equitable, and strictly in accordance with yachting rules and usage; 

 and that, unlike the changing of the terms of the deed of trust— an 

 action that will look even worse ten years hence than it does to-day— 

 the action of the club in the Valkyrie-Defender races will be endorsed 

 by both British and American yachtsmen in a few years. 



It is useless to deny that, with our long and deep-rooted opposition 

 to the new deed, it is a disappointment to us that our fight against it 

 has not been rewarded by its nominal as well as its practical nullifica- 

 tion ; but Lord Dunraven and the Squadron have willed otherwise, and 

 we can only accept the inevitable. If, as we believe, the new deed is 

 now a dead letter, it is only a waste of time for British yachtsmen to 

 discuss it; much more good will come from a cessation of all abuse, a 

 dignified acceptance of Lord Dunraven's defeat, and an effort to secure 

 a challenge from some British yachtsman whose standing and ability 

 are beyond question. 



ON LONG ISLAND SOUND IN AN 18- 

 FOOTER. 



It was nearly 5 P. M. on July 7, 1835. Heavy masses of 

 clouds were scurrying across the sky, driven before the 

 wind, which came out of the N.E. in blustering squalls, 

 making many an old seafaring man shake his head omin- 

 ously as he watched the maneuvers of the fleet of the New 

 Haven Y. C. as the graceful racers worked back and forth, 

 each striving to outgeneral the other by gaining the most 

 advantageous position, so as to be the first to cross the line 

 when the gun on the judges' boat should give the signal 

 to send them on their journey of 160 miles or more around 

 Block Island and return. Presently a flash and a cloud of 

 white smoke breaks from the side of the' judge's boat, 

 when — bang! Away thoy go, one after another over the 

 line, each graceful fabric staggering under all the sail she 

 can carry, heeling to the spiteful puffs until lee rails are 

 under, decks are awash. The keen bows cut the waves, 

 and each craft is striving her best to capture the prizes 

 offered by the club: $100 to the yacht which first succeeds 

 in passing Long Wharf after rounding the island, and $75 

 to the second. 



My object in writing an account of this race is not to 

 give the experiences of the different yachts and their 

 crews, but an account of what we saw and did ourselves, 

 as we of the little keel cutter Roamer were not favored 

 by getting a glimpse near enough to recognize the yachts 

 of any of the fleet after darkness set in that night until 

 we anchored off the club house again on the morning of 

 July 10. 



After crossing the line we laid a course so as to pass to 

 the west of the new light. It wasn't the nicest sort of a 

 night to start on such a trip by any manner of means, 

 especially in a boat only 18ft. on the waterline. The sky 

 had a very dirty look that threatened trouble to any one 

 on the water. There was every indication of a storm, but 

 the enthusiasm of the moment wouldn't let that dampen 

 the ardor of our spirits, for hadn't Sam and Tom and my- 

 self sailed, hunted, fished and eaten alligator together in 

 the wilds of Florida? Then there was Lock, the bold 

 man-o'-warsman. Who would think of danger in such 

 company? 



We passed the new light at three bells. By this time the 

 wind had decreased in force materially, and there was 

 every indication of a shift, besides the sky began to 

 lighten up to such an extent that we ventured to entertain 

 hopes of good weather for our trip after all. 



At six bells the wind had shifted to S.E, and a 

 heavy fog set in, which made objects indistinguishable a 

 little more than the length of the Roamer; we sailed 

 slowly along under mainsail, topsail, jibtopsail and jib 

 through this heavy curtain of mist, expecting every min- 

 ute to see the huge hull of a Sound steamboat or scUooner 

 loom up through the mist as she bore down on us, but 

 luckily nothing of the kind happened, although the hoarse 

 whistles of the steamer and tin horns of the sailing craft 

 kept blowing on every side of us all night long. We kept 

 our horn going till morning. 



I met with quite a scare about 1AM. which fairly made 

 my hair stand on end. We were about off Faulkner's 

 Island at this hour, Sam was at the tiller and I was stand- 

 ing by him when suddenly right out of the mist to star- 

 board, as it seemed, there came a number of half sup- 

 pressed, choking, smothered sounds, like those which 

 a person would make in drowning. I called Sam's 

 attention to it, but listen as he would he could hear noth- 

 ing; I had about made up my mind that one of the yachts 

 had met with an accident and that the crew were calling 

 for help when, bending over to hear more distinctly, the 

 sounds were very soon explained, the mystery was sud- 

 denly dispelled, as I found that the smothered yells issued 

 from a pipe in the cockpit rail that connected with and was 

 used to fill our water tank; as the Eoamer rose and fell on 

 the waves the air would be forced out of the tank through 

 this pipe in a succession of smothered groans. 



Soon after this incident we were startled by hearing the 

 regular s-w-i-s-h, s-w-i-s-h, s-w-i-s-h of breakers all around 

 us; we got out the lead line and sounded, but there was 

 plenty of water, and as we soon passed out of hearing of 

 the sound we decided that it was but the noise made by a 

 tide rip. Nothing more eventful occurred through the 

 night. 



The morning broke with the Sound still covered with 

 fog; at four bells the wind had shifted to the S.W. and 



we seemed to be sailing through a reddish sort of cloud, as 

 the sun's rays were beginning to get the upper hand, in 

 nature's struggle between light and mist. 



At eight bells the fog had melted away, and we were 

 making good headway under mainsail, topsail, jib and 

 jibtopsail through the bright sparkling waters; at this 

 time we were directly off the mouth of the Connecticut 

 River. 



We passed Little and Big Gull Islands at four bells; 

 soon after we were treated to a sight of one of the large 

 Cup defenders as she came through the Race bound for 

 New York, we took her to be the Priscilla. 



It didn't take us long to pass through the Race, as the 

 wind and tide were in our favor. Soon after dinner we 

 noticed a long line of breakers, that seemed to extend for 

 two or three miles on either side and directly ahead of 

 us; we examined the chart, but it showed 20 and 30 

 fathoms all through where the breakers were, and we 

 were greatly puzzled to account for them; we finally 

 decided to pick out the smoothest looking place we could, 

 and go through them, rather than sail three or four miles 

 off our course to avoid them. 



We had the spinaker, with some bedding and other 

 articles, spread out on top of the cabin; Lock was taking 

 a quiet snooze in the cabin when we entered the first 

 breaker; the little Roamer, generally speaking, fairly 

 reared up on her hind legs; then, descending, she buried 

 all her forward part as far aft as the skylight, completely 

 under water as she dove into a huge eoamer which swept 

 everything, spinaker and all, overboard. We saved 

 nearly everything, as Sam with great presence of mind 

 caught the sail and bed clothes before they got out of 

 reach. 



It was wonderful to see the agility displayed by Lock, 

 who bounced up through the companion way (which had 

 been left open, thereby letting a good tubful of water 

 into the cabin and all over him) as though he had been 

 propelled from a catapult; it didn't take long to get 

 through, but we decided that we would rather suffer 

 a little inconvenience in the future than to take such a 

 risk again. 



On examining our chart afterward, we found at the 

 bottom mention of these breakers, which were described 

 as "dangerous tide rips, to be avoided, especially by small 

 boats." 



We enjoyed a most delightful sail that afternoon; the 

 soft, balmy, summer breeze blew steadily, filling our 

 sails perfectly, so as to get the most possible speed out of 

 the little Roamer, as she rode the undulating bosom of 

 the glittering ocean and swung in rhythmic time fro m swell 

 to swell, parting each oncoming crest in soft billows of 

 foam on each side of her shapely stem. Montauk rising 

 out of the bosom of old ocean to starboard in the sleepy, 

 dreamy, summer haze looked more like a misty cloud 

 than like land. Fishing schooners, with the queer look- 

 ing pulpits perched on the very tip end of their bowsprits, 

 from which the fisherman with the long harpoon bal- 

 anced in his hands scans the surface far and near for the 

 sleepy swordfish, as he rests in fancied security, and 

 other fishing vessels by the score dotted the face of the 

 waters, all bent on gaining a livelihood, lawfully filched 

 from Neptune's bountiful stores which hide among rocks 

 and reefs and sands. Every now and then a porpoise 

 would roll his rounded back above the surface, or, leap- 

 ing entirely out of the waves, would show his full shape; 

 then standing on the very end of his tail would shake the 

 pearly jewels from his form, and with a mighty splash 

 would seek his ocean home once more. 



The regular smooth rise and fall of the boat as she 

 glided from wave to wave gradually began to cause a 

 very suspicious feeling to steal through my frame, and I 

 began to fear that I would have to contribute to old 

 Neptune, but the feeling finally wore off. 



It was nearly five bells when we sighted Block Island 

 through the haze, and in two hours thereafter we were 

 off the southeast end of the island, directly under the 

 United States Life Saving Station, which is perched on 

 top of the towering cliffs which rise out of the ocean to 

 the height of 200ft. or more. 



Just before we reached this point our ears were greeted 

 by the doleful tolling of the bell buoy, which is located on 

 a reef of rocks called Southeast Ledge; the chart showed 

 30ft. of water on this ledge at low tide, and yet in heavy 

 storms from seaward the waves break on this reef, even 

 in water of that depth, which will give some idea of the 

 tremendous seas that dash and roar against the shores of 

 this solitary storm beaten island. Before five bells we 

 had rounded the island and our bowsprit was pointed 

 toward home again. 



After rounding the island the wind increased in 

 strength to such an extent that we had all we could 

 stagger under with mainsail, topsail and jib set. There 

 was also quite a heavy sea running by this time, which 

 made the little Roamer pitch and toss in the most uncom- 

 fortable manner. The increase soon reached its height, 

 and the wind grew less, however, and as the sun neared 

 the end of his day's journey it had died out almost alto- 

 gether. 



We were favored by a most glorious sight as the sun 

 sank to rest in his ocean bed (as it seemed); the atmos- 

 phere was perfectly clear; the sea and sky seemed to vie 

 with each other in their depth of indigo blue; the wind 

 had died to a mere lingering zephyr, and as the lower 

 edge of the sun touched the world of glistening waters it 

 cast a broad pathway of shimmering, glittering, golden 

 light, in which the waves sparkled and scintillated in 

 thousands of dazzling prisms and brilliant flashes; then 

 with one last warm, lingering kiss on a world of waters, 

 he disappeared, leaving the evening sky one glow of 

 golden yellow, purple, indigo and red. 



After the sun had set the Roamer lay rolling on the 

 smooth, oily swell about midway between (to the north) 

 the island and Montauk Point. The wind had died out 

 completely, and the prospects of getting through the 

 race that night were very dubious, to say the least. 



When darkness set in we were still tossing about in the 

 same spot. The night was very clear, however, and the 

 sparkling constellations as they sent their searching rays 

 through infinite space were reflected in the water, making 

 it seem as though we were sailing through a sea strewn 

 with diamonds. 



Sam stayed at the tiller all night, Tom and Lock got 

 very little sleep, while I, whom Neptune finally succeeded 

 in bringing to terms, after a most stubborn contest, 

 crawled below without any supper. At the earnest 

 urging of the rest of the crew, I got into one of the 

 berths, and after falling asleep I knew nothing more until 



I awoke and found the morning beams streaming through 

 the cabin windows. 



There had been almost no wind all night long, and 

 when I emerged from the cabin we were four or five 

 miles from Little and Big Gull Islands, but there was 

 promise of a breeze from the south, and as the tide was 

 with us we entertained hopes of getting through the Race 

 before it turned. 



We passed through the Race at 5:30 A. M. with a fair 

 breeze from the south, and by the time we had breakfast 

 we were fairly in the Sound once more. 



It was eight bells M. when we reached the mouth of the 

 Connecticut River, and the wind was very light and came 

 out of the south in fitf ul zephyrs which scarcely filled 

 our sails; besides the tide was running strong against us, 

 and the sun sending his hot rays straight down on us out 

 of a cloudless sky made us wish for cooler weather. 



Sam, Tom and Lock took advantage of the lack of wind 

 to snatch a much needed rest. 



By four bells, or 2 P. M., we were nearly up with Bart- 

 lett's Reef Lightship — between the ship and the Connect- 

 icut shore. The wind, which had shifted and was begin- 

 ning to come out strong from the S.W. , was kicking up 

 a very nasty sea, which the Roamer was butting into in a 

 very determined manner. 



The chart showed 8 and 10ft. at low water between the 

 ship and the shore, so we were very much surprised and 

 somewhat alarmed when, happening to look over the side, 

 what should meet our gaze but the bottom, within a foot 

 of the keel of the Roamer, as it seemed. After sounding 

 with the lead-line, our fears were set at rest by finding 

 that the water was as deep as the chart indicated, but 

 being very clear it looked much shallower than it really was. 



As the afternoon advanced the wind increased, and 

 came out of the smoky southwest in snappy, spiteful 

 squalls, which heeled the Roamer down to such an angle 

 that the water would be almost up to her cabin windows. 

 About this time we took in our topsail (we had taken in 

 the jibtopsail some time before), and seemed to make bet- 

 ter headway. 



By four bells the wind was blowing so hard that we 

 were compelled to take two reefs in the mainsail, and 

 even under double-reefed mainsail and jib we had more 

 sail than we needed ; at this time we were within one or two 

 miles of Faulkner's Island, and the wind and sea were so 

 heavy that large schooners could be seen reducing sail; 

 and to make matters worse, heavy masses of dark 

 thunder heads began to climb out of the west and south- 

 west across the sky, from which issued, every now and 

 then, gleaming flashes of lightning. 



At six bells our situation was really alarming; the Sound 

 was covered with white-caps and the sea was running 

 so high that we could make no headwav whatever; we 

 had given up all idea of reaching New Haven, and were 

 trying to get to the Thimble Islands before darkness and 

 the storm which was rolling out of the west should over- 

 take us. 



We were just beginning to congratulate each other on 

 being able to reach the Thimbles when, happening to 

 look to the southwest, we were appalled by the sight that 

 met our gaze, as the whole Sound in that direction had 

 become completely obscured by the storm, which seemed 

 to settle right down on the water, vivid flashes of lightning 

 seemed to leap up out of the waves and seeming deter- 

 mined to rend the very firmament would be followed by 

 such heavy roars of thunder that it appeared as though 

 the mighty gods of mythology were at war among the 

 black and heavy clouds which covered the sky; while the 

 wind and rain were bearing down upon us with express 

 train speed. 



Lock crawled forward to lower the jib, but found every- 

 thing in such a tangle that it was impossible to do so; just 

 then, with a flash and roar, the storm was on us, and as 

 it struck the little Roamer went over so far that her sails 

 actually dragged through the water, and if it hadn't been 

 for the 2,5001bs. of lead that was bolted to her keel I prob- 

 ably never would have written this account. As she 

 gradually righted it seemed as though the wind would 

 tear her mast out. 



There was only one course for us to pursue, and that 

 was to head her for the shore and trust to luck to find a 

 harbor. 



We were tearing along through the angry waves in 

 the wildest manner imaginable, headed for the shore, 

 which, from the sea that was breaking on it, looked like 

 one long line of drifted snow that extended from east to 

 west as far as we could see, when suddenly we spied a red 

 spar buoy directly ahead, which, on hurriedly consulting 

 the chart, we found marked the Goose Rocks; it was too 

 late to try to avoid them now, so trusting entirely to luck 

 we sailed or rather tore right through them without 

 striking. 



The rain which had been coming down in torrents 

 gradually ceased, the sky began to lighten somewhat 

 when we made out a large sloop directly ahead of us and 

 sailing the same course that we were; so keeping her in 

 sight we followed in her wake, and it was fortunate for 

 us that we did so, for just as the setting sun with an - 

 angry red glare broke for an instant through the heavy 

 masses of sullen black clouds, lighting up the world of 

 green, white crested waves, from the tops of which the 

 wind picked the spume and spray and drove it through 

 the air in smoky clouds, the sloop rounded a point of 

 rocks and disappeared, but we could make out her mast 

 and close-reefed sails behind the land, so heading for the 

 point we soon opened up a sort of bay, which, though it 

 didn't offer a great deal of protection, still was better 

 than the open Sound. This was Leet's Island Harbor, and 

 any one who has ever been there knows what poor pro- 

 tection it offers in a storm, especially from the southwest. 



We got both our anchors out, and soon had the sails 

 furled. The sloop which we followed lay within 200 or 

 300ft. of us, rising and falling on the heavy seas. She 

 hailed us, and although we shouted back and forth to 

 each other at the top of our voices, the waves dashing 

 and roaring on the point completely drowned all other 

 sounds. 



The night settled down dark and threatening, and it 

 soon began to rain again. There was no use trying to 

 cook, so after eating a cold supper we made up our beds, 

 and while one took his first two hours on watch, the rest 

 got what sleep they could with the boat rolling her rail 

 under and pitching her bowsprit into every wave. 



The next morning broke clear and bright, and although 

 there was a very heavy sea running before the strong 

 S.W. wind, after eating a hasty breakfast we hoisted our 

 double-reefed mainsail, and under that and the jib, after 



