[Nov. 12, 1904. 
glasses out to pick up the Erie lighthouses. Our course 
must have been carelessly taken, for we made land fully 
ten miles too far east. It was worth while, for the water 
is deep close to shore, and one can sail along -near 
enough to see the people at their doors and hear a 
friendly dog bark. The bluffs make a pleasant relief 
from the low Canadian shore line, and the absence 
of reefs from Dunkirk to Sandusky is a comfort to 
yachtsmen. 
Entering Presque Isle Bay through the channel at 
the eastern end, we hailed a passing yacht, and were 
told to take Scorpion's moorings off the yacht club. 
It was a friendly reception indeed, for we found the 
Fourth of July celebration about to begin on the edge 
of the water. The bank that rises sharply beyond was 
crowded with people in gay colors, giving a sort of 
patchwork effect. 
We took in the spinnaker, jib and dri/er as we en- 
tered the harbor, and had them furled and stowed as 
we rounded up to our mooring under the mainsail alone. 
The tomato salad had been prepared on the way. 
"Let's eat in the cockpit." 
"Is it soup to-night?" 
"I'm for that." 
"I'm for big dishes." 
There was much to see. Boats of every description 
gathered about us in the gloaming, making merry 
with songs and laughter, while the moon rose majestic- 
ally over the hill to lend her aid to the pretty shore 
scene. 
"No dish-washing to-night," said the skipper, find- 
ing her glass of iced tea. 
It was smoke and rest, for our hearts were filled with 
a contentment that only such a day's sail can bring. 
That affinity which one sailor has for another brought 
some Erie Y. C. men alongside after the fireworks were 
over,' to bid us welcome. Every attention was shown 
us while we lay at Erie. 
"After all, what religion knits people so closely to- 
gether as a common sport?" as Stevenson says in his 
"Inland Voyage." "For will any one dare to tell me 
that business is more entertaining than fooling among 
boats." 
When we were at anchor we made ourselves very 
comfortable. A large wind sail, equipped with flaps, 
kept out by means of a stick fitting into grommets, was 
hauled up through the forward hatch by means of the 
spinnaker or jib halliards. It stood about six feet. high 
and had a diameter equal to the hatch. This carried a 
current of air through the cabin, keeping it cool when 
the deck was unbearable. An awning was spread above 
the cockpit over the boom and guyed at the four cor- 
ners to the jigger shrouds aft and the backstays for- 
ward. When long in port, a rug was spread in the 
cockpit, and a table with a green cover held books, 
needlework and a pitcher of ice water. 
A day and a half in Erie was well spent, but the mate 
likes to be on the move. 
"Put the gaskets on him," suggested our captain, and 
with a meager smile the mate subsided. 
It was just as well, for there was the usual south-- 
wester blowing. Our mooring was exposed, and the 
short waves made it rather tiresome by evening, so 
we dined ashore, clad in our best. 
Luck was with us, and we believed in it when a light 
N.E. breeze came up next morning. We worked our 
way out of the bay, but ran into a calm off Presque Isle 
Light. Nothing to do but send our mate in for a swim. 
It never failed to bring a breeze. 
"Going in, mate?" 
"Too hot." 
"Oh, do! We don't want to sit here all day." 
But the mate was obdurate. 
There were pound nets near by, so we investigated 
them. They are set anywhere apparently, and abound 
along the American shore from Erie on, constituting a 
serious menace to those who cruise by night. (Yachts- 
men will encourage the movement started last fall for 
their abolition as being an obstruction to traffic on the 
waterways. ) 
The sun blazed down on us. The barometer rested 
high and steady. With the evening we hoped for an 
"off lander," an assured thing, the Erie men told us, 
especially during such hot weather. Presently a light 
air came off the lake, and we mogged along slowly but 
steadily, thinking to make Conneaut, our next stop. 
The twilight fell, and with it the light lake breeze. Then 
we were treated to a novel experience, for the trusty 
breeze from off the heated shore crept out, flopping the 
sails over, and we lost not a moment's headway. 
Conneaut, with its smoke and noise, came into view 
about 8 o'clock. We decided to pass it by and perhaps 
put in to Ashtabula. Why should we leave such a 
glorious moon? If the ladies would turn in, the men 
agreed to stand two-hour tricks from 11 o'clock until 
morning. 'Twas the captain's trick and about 2 o'clock. 
Below all was quiet. Who could stay awake when the 
silence of the night was upon him, unless he had com- 
pass and moon to keep him company? We were near- 
ing Ashtabula, another smoky commercial port, where 
boats load with coal and iron ore. The "offlander" 
was blowing the smoke out over the lake and obscuring 
the light. A freighter was outside calling for the fog- 
horn. Three short blasts, then an answering blast from 
the lighthouse. A voice out of the night startled us all. 
"What's that?" 
"Where?" shouted the mate, leaping on deck. 
"That black thing to port." 
"To starboard, you mean." 
"No, to port. Looks like a breakwater; but there is 
none here. Look up the Coast Pilot and see what there 
is at Ashtabula." 
"Nothing but piers and lighthouses," said the skipper, 
book in hand, poking her head out of the companion- 
way; so we were no wiser and must needs steer be- 
tween these black objects, holding our breath for fear 
there were more ahead or more underneath. 
We afterward found that they are new cribs not yet 
charted. 
Past the smoke, the moon again lighted our course, 
and we moved lazily along until morning. At day- 
break the A. B. came on deck for her trick. Chart and 
log gave us Fairport, distant about 10 miles. Drifting 
along, we waited for the 10 o'clock breeze our captain 
believed in. It came out of the N.E. 
"Spinnaker again, mate." And we needed it to keep 
her from yawing, as the breeze quickly freshened to 
fifteen and at times twenty miles per hour. 
Express packages were waiting for us at Fairport, 
but we passed on, under the smart breeze, and by Cleve- 
land, heading for Rocky River, the port of the Lake- 
wood Y. C, seven miles beyond. It is only a small 
river and a hard port for a stranger to make, for one 
must keep well to the west of the dilapidated old piers 
and in midchannel between them and the bluff. 
"Take off your mainsail and go in slowly," called a 
passing boat. We stored our spinnaker and furled the 
mainsail, and went in under jib and driver, dropping the 
driver when we were well inside. A deep-draft boat 
must know this little harbor or be well guided, not to 
run aground on a sandbar. The river is deep to the 
banks and full of yachts, all made fast to tall piles stem 
and stern and close to shore. They looked like a long 
procession, two abreast, coming down the river. They 
drop sails and pole to their places in line, and present 
a novel sight to those, like ourselves, who make moor- 
ings in wind and current. 
We were offered a pile close to shore, and found a 
pier of one plank ready to use. Wind and weather 
were of no moment in this snug berth. 
The men took pillows and blankets and slept in the 
club house", for it was a warm harbor. A mosquito or 
two worried the skipper, so she used the new mosquito 
netting, the joy and pride of the captain. The com- 
panion was opened wide and three thin sticks fitted 
closely into it, with netting stretched tightly over them, 
so that we were completely screened. We spent three 
days in this lovely spot. (Boats were moored along 
shore, with their spars in the branches. Most of them 
are sloops, arid not a few of fine design, with most en- 
thusiastic owners, who gave us a hearty welcome and 
made our stay a delightful one to remember.) One 
evening we rowed up the river to find a laundry. The 
company purse suffered a collapse when we had paid 
for it, but $5 all around the next day put it into com- 
mission again, and the row up and down the river was 
worth a good deal. While we were drifting back in 
the moonlight, the gaskets on the mate parted; clam- 
bering on board, we consequently got ready for a start. 
The moon was hazy, and there had been every prediction 
of thunder showers all day; but about 11 o'clock we 
cast off our lines and were poled out of the river by a 
member of the club. Every yaGht there is furnished 
with these long pike poles. Hoisting our mainsail 
again under way, we set our course W.N.W. to clear 
Avon Point, eight miles beyond, before directing our 
course to Vermilion. There was a light offlander blow- 
ing. One has to keep well out from Avon Point, from 
one to five miles, according to the man you talk to and 
the depth of his keel. Keels count more than charts 
when you talk to a man of the locality. 
About midnight a red light appeared on our star- 
board bow. 
"What's that rhyme about 'red to red,'" etc.? asked 
the A. B. 
"Green to green or red to red, perfect safety, go 
ahead," responded the skipper, proud of her winter's 
work at boxing compass and learning road rules. 
"Better have a look at her," concluded our captain, 
and we found her to be an old wind-jammer with_ all 
her light canvas set and a beautiful sight in the misty 
moonlight slowly approaching us. 
Changing our course to pass alongside and then 
astern of her, we hailed her helmsman and asked how 
far it was to Lorain. 
"Ten miles," he answered. If he had only reminded 
us not to look for the light with an offlander blowing 
we would have been more thankful. 
We were not at all sure of our shore now, for we 
had evidently gone further out than we should and the 
moon was obscured by cloud. Whether we were half 
a mile from shore, or five, was a mystery. We had lost 
our bearings. Chart, Coast Pilot and compass were not 
working together. Each one was going its own gait, 
while our eyes played tricks on us at every turn, and 
we were steering toward land one minute and out into 
the lake the next. 
It was growing darker and darker in the northwest. 
Lightning flashes broke the blackness more frequently. 
"Better take in the log, and double reef the main- 
sail. All hands on deck!" The A. B. took the tiller, 
the skipper stowed everything loose, while the men 
shortened sail. Reefing a yawl is an easy matter. The 
short boom, all inboard, made quick work of it, and 
the sail was soon re-set. Jib and jigger halliards were 
cleared and coiled ready to run. Darker and darker it 
grew, and nearer came the thunder and lightning. It 
was 2 o'clock in the morning. No light anywhere ex- 
cept the hand lanterns we used to work about the deck. 
"There she comes," yelled the mate. 
"Down with the driver and jib!" 
They were down, but not tied when the squall was 
upon us. A gleaming mass of white struck our bows 
and broke over us, and the captain on . the bowsprit 
passing a gasket around the jib, went to his waist in the 
angry sea that lay beyond and into which the yacht 
plunged, snorting and pitching. The double-reefed 
mainsail alone was enough to lay her rail well under 
and to send her along at a fast clip. She was headed 
into the wind to avoid a lee shore. The racket in the 
rigging, the shriek of the wind and noise of rain and 
spray made even loud orders inaudible, except from a 
windward position. There was no time for coats, and 
even the captain's sou'wester didn't protect his glasses, 
for the spray, blowing off the top of the waves, flew aft 
in a line with the boat. 
Frequent trips forward were necessary, as the side 
lights kept going out. These trips were only possible 
on hands and knees. The slatting and pitching put out 
the flame as fast as lighted, and the A. B., now below, 
having been relieved at the tiller by the mate, was kept 
busy lighting lanterns, which were passed up to the 
captain, who crawled back and forth with them. The 
spray constantly showering his glasses, made it im- 
possible for him to take the stick. 
Below, all was confusion. Time had not been taken 
to stow things snugly. Port holes of course were 
closed. Bathing suits, stoves, books and plates played 
about the floors. The eggs preserved their dignity. 
They alone failed to join in the mad frolic, but sat com- 
posedly in an open basket on top of the ice box. Their 
mission in the world was evidently not finished. 
Speeding on at a furious rate in the pitch darkness, 
a sudden flash of lightning revealed the fact that we 
were among pound nets. In another moment the yacht 
took a lurch, and a huge stake appeared along her lee 
rail, inside the boom and the mainsheet. In a trice it 
was straining against the latter and prevented putting 
the yacht into the wind. It was a breathless moment 
for the mate, as the pole bent and bent, and it was a 
question as to which would go, the mainsheet or the 
stake. The sheet held and finally cleared, but that 
pesky stake was bound to give us more trouble, and held 
up the dinghy when she came along. However, that 
smart little lady executed a side step and trotted along 
after her mother. 
In connection with our lights going out, a large 
freighter to starboard had given us uneasiness. Where 
was she now? She might have been ten yards ahead 
and we not be able to see her because of the blinding 
rain which fell in sheets. And where was the Lorain 
light? Had we passed that? 
Presently, under the beating of the rain, the sea be- 
gan to go down a bit, and the wind dropped somewhat. 
At dawn we saw the light, two miles away. Time of 
day? No time, only daylight, and we could see where 
we were. The wind went out nearly flat. We hurriedly 
spliced the main sheet and set all sail, but soon found 
ourselves flopping helplessly. Everything pulled and 
banged and clattered about that could make a noise. 
The blocks on the jib traveler, as well as on the main 
traveler, made harsh music as they scraped back and 
forth. The sea was still high. 
It had all been too much for our skipper, for she had 
had a cucumber for supper, and she needed sympathy 
in the cabin. The captain held the tiller. He had had a 
hard night and felt the need of sleep, but grasping the 
stick with a will, he sat comfortably enveloped in a 
steamer rug, and in sleep as well. Coming on deck 
with some chocolate as morning refreshment the A. B. 
couldn't help a smile as she relieved him of his task. A 
light' air out of the south soon sprang up, and she put 
about and headed for Lorain. 
Coming abreast of the opening, all hands were called. 
It wouldn't do to take them in asleep. Breakfast and 
a few hours' rest sufficed for Lorain, and the yawl with 
the men on board, was towed out. All sail was hoisted 
and the course set for Vermillion. We were left be- 
hind at the hotel, asleep, but were en route by electric 
car by afternoon. Skirting the shore of the lake, we 
could see the yawl lazily making her way in and out 
among the pound nets. 
We found Vermillion a delightful little town. A 
small river makes a snug harbor for some fishing tugs, 
but the piers are rapidly falling into decay. Our first 
duty was to buy provisions for Sunday, but we had to 
see if the yacht was making any headway, so we walked 
out to the lighthouse. We were tired, and we were 
sleepy, and the A. B. is an easy sleeper, so she went to 
sleep on a ledge at . the foot of the lighthouse, while 
the skipper went back to get some lunch. 
Had the A. B. moved in her sleep she would have 
had to swim for her life, unless some of the spectators 
on the opposite pier came to her rescue. 
At night the wind died out, but later came the off- 
lander. We got our provisions and ice in a rowboat 
and waited for the yawl. We had picked out a snug 
berth beside a pier, so when her red and green came 
into view the skipper got out' at the pier, while the 
A. B. rowed out to pilot them in. 
Squalls and NW. winds kept us in Vermillion for 
four days. We were cruising for pleasure. The gaskets 
loosened often on our mate, but we managed to keep 
him amused pretty well. 
What to have for dinner was of more moment now, 
with no sailing to occupy us. Chicken and creamed 
potatoes one night; fish that the captain was meaning 
to fry, but boiled in butter and water instead, for an- 
other night, and berries, berries all the time, with 
potato salad as a relish. 
The mate poked the barometer religiously. It was 
low, hugging 29, and absolutely refused to rise. 
"Kill sailing as a sport, those barometers," growled 
he. "Wouldn't have one in my boat. Keep you in 
when it's fun outside." 
The village blacksmith spent one day fixing the 
gooseneck for the spinnaker, a piece of work that lasted 
fully a week. Other yachts put in to avoid the storms, 
so the townspeople turned out to inspect. Most of 
them "supposed we thought we were having a good 
time, but we couldn't make them believe it." 
One quiet afternoon we were sitting in the cockpit 
sewing, and a little old lady dressed in the garb of long 
ago, came by on the pier. Our awning was just low 
enough to hide us, but she dipped fore and aft to get a 
glimpse and say a cheery word or two. Finally pulling 
up the awning, she gazed a moment and asked,_ "Don't 
ye git sick like, a-teetering like that all the time? I 
would." 
At an early hour one morning, one of the storm- 
bound yachts hailed us as she passed on her way out 
bound for Sandusky, and said there was a fine offlander 
blowing. So there was, and we were soon under way 
bound for Put-In-Bay. 
We ladies were to sleep a few hours more. With the 
wind on the quarter, we made a fine start, and held it 
for a hour, when the wind shifted to S.W. and headed 
us, freshening all the time. Beds were no longer beds, 
but inclined planes. The spinnaker boom, which we 
carried aloft, was banging against the mast. The cap- 
tain went aloft on the hoops to lash it to the jumper 
stay. 
We had laid our course to pass south of Kelly's 
Island, but the wind headed us, so that when we made 
land we found we could only fetch north of Kelly's 
Island. Picking up land on our port bow, we could 
make out Sandusky. Then Pelee Island came into 
view on our starboard bow. It was a gray, misty morn- 
ing, sky and water were all alike. There is a passage 
