36 



FOREST AND STREAM. / 



[Jan. 30, 1890. 



DO not think it is nec- 

 essary to describe or 

 name the persons who 

 "~\ participated in this trip, 

 further than lo state that 

 there were four of us. The 

 general reader of such ac- 

 counts is, I imagine, more 

 interested in the craft, 

 where she went, what they 

 encountered, etc.; conse- 

 quently we will be name- 

 less on this occasion and 

 the sketch of the crew must 

 serve as an introduction. 



We bad a reason for 

 making Wading River our 

 objective point, not that it 

 is a very interesting place 

 to visit, for it offers very 

 few inducements to out- 

 siders, especially cruisers. 

 The stream is well named, 

 for at low water one can 

 walk in the river with 

 almost as little danger of getting wet as if lie were promenading 

 through one of our city streets on a rainy day— I beg pardon; 1 

 mean immediately after a rain storm. At high water, however, 

 a vessel drawing less than 4ft. can manage to squeeze through the 

 narrow opening and be quite secure from any storm. It is Buch 

 an obscure and out-of-the-way piace that I cannot refrain from 



head rig and still no favoring puff; and, as a last resort, we put out 

 an oar, but it was useless. We were getting ready for the catas- 

 troph e when suddenly a gust of wind struck our mainsail like a 

 battering ram, and the Monaitipee heeled over until her topmast 

 passed clear under the bowsprit, and we then shot out into the 



We did not get far that afternoon. Off College Point the wind 

 died out, and shortly after dark we tied up at Whitestone for the 

 night and turned in, hoping for a favorable breeze next day. 



When the cook and I awoke about six o'clock in the morning, 

 we could see white foamy water rushing past the cabin windows, 

 and the yacht was listed considerably to starboard. The captain 

 and the fourth member of our party were not in the cabin, it was 

 evident, therefore, that, we were under way. A look qut^of the 

 companion way proved this to be the case. A fresh N. E. wind 

 was blowing. The captain was forward setting the clubtopsail, 

 while our guest had the tiller, and we were a mile from White- 

 stone. The air was quite chilly, and our friend at the helm had 

 his coat well buttoned up. 



While beating out by Stepping Stone Light and City Island the 

 steward and I prepared breakfast. The short choppy waves, 

 aided bv the wash from the incoming Sound steamers, made 

 things decidedly lively for us. Besides this the yacht was 

 heeling prettty well down, so that it was impossible to keep 

 the stove on a level for any length of time. My duty consisted in 

 holding the cooking apparatus down .on the floor while my ac- 

 complice did the cooking. We finally succeeded in setting forth 

 an appetizing breakfast, which disappeared in a remarkably short 

 time. 



Helloa, there ! What's this? No wind? Sure enough, the morning 

 breeze had flattened out and left us to drag along', with an occa- 



reminding the reader that it is situated about fifteen miles east of 

 Port Jefferson, L. I., and fronts on the Sound. 



We had a week free from business, and we decided to make a 

 cruise in the Monaitipee. As I remarked, we had an object in 

 going to Wading River. While discussing where we should go, 

 one of our party reminded us that some of our friends of the fem- 

 inine gender were summering at the above-named hamlet. From 

 that moment we agreed unanimously that Wading River was the 

 only sensible place to visit. Therefore, Wednesday morning, 

 Aug. 7, 1889, found us assembled on board ready for the occasion. 



Since the trip through Great South Bay in June, 1888, which was 

 published in Forest and Stream of March 14. 1889, the Monaiti- 

 pee has been altered into a keel yacht; and, although drawing but 

 little more water, we have found her superior both in windward 

 work and stability, besides giving more cabin accommodations. 

 Taken altogether she is a vast improvement on the old center- 

 board boat. She now has seven hundred weight of ballast outside 

 and about the same amount of ballast inside. 



We left Bav Ridge at nine o'clock and stood out into the harbor 

 close hauled on the starboard tack. The wind was light and 

 northerly and the tide still running ebb. Having hopes of abetter 

 breeze springing up, we concluded to get under way and get as far 

 along as possible before the flood tide overtook us. When we 

 started we could point up for the Statue of Liberty, but we went 

 about off St. George. S. I. Seeing that it was useless to try to beat 

 against the strong current with so little wind, we dropped anchor 

 and determined to wait until the tide turned, spending the next 

 two hours in cooking and eating dinner. Shortly after 12 o'clock 

 a fresh breeze sprang up and we hauled up the anchor and stood 

 across for Buttermilk Channel. When half way over we met the 

 flood tide, and with the wind increasing, we were soon romping 

 along through the East River, dodging about to keep out of the 

 way of tugs, ferryboats and all manner of river craft, one minute 

 being whirled along at the mercy of the current, and in imminent 

 peril of being run down by unscrupulous pilots, or being carried 

 against some of the pier heads. 



A more trying or disagreeable place for a small yacht to sail 

 through can not be found than the East River from Governor's 

 Island to Hell Gate. However, we met with no mishaps, and went 

 through all right. We had one pretty cl ose shave though near the 

 Navy Yard. We had steered toward the Brooklyn shore to get out 

 of the way of a large tow, when suddenly the wind dropped and 

 we were carried along with the swift current directly toward the 

 bow of a large ship which was lying at the end of a wharf. If we 

 were carried under the bowsprit of the vessel something would 

 have to break, and it would very probably be our mast. A calam- 

 ity seemed unavoidable; we were within ten feet of the dangerous 



sional air which would lift the sheets for a moment, then dying 

 away let them drop in the water once more. This lasted all day, 

 with slight variations, until five o'clock, when we had got as far 

 east as Eatons Point. It was a scorching hot day, and all except 

 the helmsman had turned in to sleep and keep out of the 

 sun. They scrambled out quickly, though, when shortly after en- 



entering Smithtown Bay a rattling breeze suddenly set in from 

 the south'ard, compelling us to take in the jibtopsail which we had 

 been carrying all day, but was now bending the topmast like a 

 whip. There was no more sleeping now. The Monaitipee began 

 to tear along at a sreat rate, and the prospect of getting to our 

 destination seemed brighter. 



That was a glorious sail across Smithtown Bay; the breeze 

 freshened as the sun sank in the west; we hung on to the topsail, 

 although she was burying the lee deck until the water came spurt- 

 ing through the upper deadeyes of the main shrouds, and occa- 

 sionally washed the cabin windows. The topmast bent and 

 twisted until we really expected to see it go overboard, but it 

 proved to be a tough little sapling. 



It was dark when we passed Crane's Neck and the light on Old 

 Field Point was casting its rays out on the Sound. 



Should we keep on and try and reach Wading River, or should 

 we make Port Jefferson for the night, was the question put forth 

 at this juncture. Our chart only showed us as far as Miller's 

 Piace, about ten miles west of Wading River, and none of us 

 were acquainted with the coast further on. "Well," said our 

 Captain, "we've got a fair wind, a moonlight night and smooth 

 water, and 1 think we had better keep on. It ain't more than 

 eighteen miles further, and we ought to cover that inside of three 

 hotirs at this rate. It is now ten minutes past eight." 



The result of this little speech, delivered in a very deliberate 

 way and with an occasional puff at his briar, that we decided 

 unanimously to continue on our course. 



Just past Old Field Point we passed and spoke the cutter Fly, of 

 the Knickerbocker Y. C, bound for Port Jefferson. It was a 

 beautiful night, although with clouds overhead, some of which 

 would now and then hide the moon from sight. The lights at 

 Port Jefferson could be seen as we passed by about a mile off 

 shore. 



Presently they passed from our sight and it began to look 

 rather ghostly when we got Mount Misery towering on our star- 

 board beam. From here on the land rose in a continuous line of 

 sandy cliffs, averaging about 50ft. in height. The top of the 

 bank was covered with trees and bushes, some of which grew 

 down the face of the cliffs for a short distance. Between us and 

 the shore all was darkness, and we could not even see the beach, 

 though we were not more than 300yds away. 



We had got past Miller's Place and were bowling along at a 

 good seven knot pace. We had not thought it necessary, or rather 

 we had not taken the precaution to keep a lookout forward, but 

 at this point we were made aware of the necessity of it. The 

 steward and our guest were in the cabin getting something to 

 eat, while the Captain and I sat silently in the cockpit. Suddenly 

 he pointed to leeward and exclaimed: 



"Look there, wbat do you call that?" 



I gazed under the mainsail in the direction indicated and could 

 discern a long, dark object, sticking out of the water about three 



or four feet. It was about twenty yards off and fair abeam. 

 Almost before we had time to make out what it was it had faded 

 away in tne darkness astern. "That was too near for comfort. 

 I think you had better get forward and keen a sharp lookout 

 ahead. There is no telling how many of those rocks are strewn 

 along here." 



The night air was decidedly cool, and I was forced to haul on 

 an extra pair of unmentionables and tie a stop around mv waist. 

 No more rocks were met with, and we continued to make good 

 headway. 



Ten o'clock! We must be very near our de-tination. Ah, what's 

 that? A break in the bank? !so: fooled again. Eagerly we gazed 

 into the darkness and cast our eyes along down the line of bluffs 

 until they blended with the darkness of night. Several times we 

 were positive that a break in the cliff, which would denote the 

 entrance to Wading River, was visible a short distance ahead; but 

 each time we were disappointed. The effect of the white sand and 

 the dark growth of shrubbery at intervals was very deceiving to 

 the eye, and the more intently we gazed at it the more confusing 

 it became, until all seemed a blurr of impenetrable darkness; and 

 one could imagine he was sailing through space were it not for 

 the regular swish-swash of the water as our little craft parted it 

 beneath her bow. 



On we went for another half hour, when suddenly the bank ter- 

 minated, and only a low-lying beach was visible for a short dis- 

 tance. Then the cliff rose again as far as the eye could reach. 

 We stood along the beach for about a quarter of a mile until wn 

 perceived the inlet, into which we silently glided, and the next 

 minute we were in Wading River. There was not a vessel, house 

 or human being in sight; but some lights were visible, appaiently 



