ttoV. 12, 1904.3 
FORESTcAND STREAM; 
417 
just north of Kelly's Island and one directly south of 
Middle. Island. 
Everybody had a different idea of the course, because 
what is every one's work is no one's work. ^ 
It had been an unwritten duty of the A. B. s to lay 
off the course carefully, while the others did or did not 
as they pleased. They usually pleased, but this morn- 
ing they had not, so when we found ourselves fetching 
north of Kelly's Island, a spirited controversy arose. 
"What's that red can buoy for?" asked the captain. 
"It marks a reef northeast of Kelly's Island," an- 
swered the A. B. from below, "and you must keep 
south of it, too." 
"Nonsense, it's good water anywhere here; that means 
for big vessels." 
"Oh, very well; rocks showing don't matter, I sup- 
pose. The Coast Pilot says keep south of it, or else 
north of the black gas buoy that is near Middle Island. 
"We can't fetch that on this tack." 
"Well, come about then." 
"Oh, you're crazy down there." 
"Look yourself, then," and the chart and Coast Pilot 
appeared on deck impelled by the wrathful arm of the 
A. B. 
"Mutiny and insubordination!" yelled the mate, dan- 
cing a hornpipe and chewing some chocolate. "Irons 
and the lazarette for the A. B." And he circled about 
the deck to the whistled tune of a Sousa march. 
We tacked. 
Put-in-Bay is well named, for it is as snug an an- 
chorage as ever was found. Gibraltar Island lies 
north of it and South Bass Island south, where there 
is a resort called Put-in-Bay. In Rocky River a gentle- 
man had given us a rough sketch of the bay, with a 
chicken coop on Gibraltar Island for the central point. 
We were to drop anchor right abreast of it, and we 
did, not more than fifteen yards from shore. 
A yawl from Sandusky was lying near, and her oc- 
cupants regarded our burgee with some curiosity. It 
was not strange, as we do not often see east end bur- 
gees at western end ports nor the reverse either. 
We were at the extreme point of our cruise. Coming 
up the lake with a spinnaker had been of much more 
interest than letters, but here we found a two weeks' 
budget, the first since leaving home. 
As there was to be a regatta here the next week, it 
behooved us to brighten up a little and have things 
shipshape, for boats began to arrive. next day. 
Sitting under our awning late in the afternoon, pass- 
ing a lazy hour or two before dinner, we saw a schooner 
coming around Gibraltar Island. Her decks swarmed 
with a uniformed crew. In big arm-chairs on deck sat 
a company of portly gentlemen, attended by cabin boys. 
With mainsail flattened in she came into the wind and 
slowly lost her way. Down went her anchor, at a mute 
signal from her captain. Down went her headsail and 
foresail at the same time. It was Priscilla, Of Cleve- 
land. She was built twenty years ago to compete with 
Puritan as a possible America Cup defender, and is 
as beautiful and staunch as ever. "Queen of the un- 
salted seas," most assuredly, and we felt repaid for a 
long trip just to see her come to anchor. 
Soon after a very large yawl came around the island 
and dropped anchor alongside Priscilla. She was from 
Sandusky, and was followed by a large sloop from 
Toledo. All the yacht etiquette was observed, and we 
all joined in. . 
The three boats were returning from a week s cruise 
about the upper end of the lake, and had organized 
an Interlake Cruising Club. They expect to be joined 
by several more boats next year. 
That night toward 10 o'clock it began to blow from 
the S.E., and blow hard. We put out the spare anchor 
and turned in. Sleep was all very well for an hour or 
two, and then it came on to blow a gale of fifty miles, 
and rained hard. Every puff sent a quiver through the 
yacht from stem to stern, as she pulled at her hawsers. 
"That awning must come down," and the captain rose 
accordingly, with the mate following. Some things 
are funny, even in strenuous moments, for it is funny 
to hear two bare-footed, wet and thinly clad men try 
to get an awning down in a gale of wind. We could 
positively hear their teeth rattle as the icy rain got to 
the quick. We were anxious lest some of the larger 
boats ahead of us should drag anchor and swing on to 
We were but a little way from shore, but the 
us. 
water is deep to the very edge. As we sat up and 
looked out the port holes our relative positions seemed 
to have changed for a minute, until we placed the points 
of the compass or swung back to the original position. 
Toward morning the wind took off a little and we slept 
again at daybreak we found several new comers at 
anchor with hard runs to report and bedraggled crews 
and boats. At different times during the day they con- 
tinued to come around the island into the bay, with 
small boats gone, spars and sails carried away, and 
one with -an extemporized jury rig— eloquent testimony 
of the night. 
Many of the smart boats, at anchor or near us dur- 
ing our stay, "were drawing too much water," as they 
put it, so visting around from yacht to yacht was the 
order of the day, and the boats were visibly lightened, 
while the crews were as visibly weighted, and empty 
bottles bobbed and nodded sociably as they floated 
about. . 
Squally weather continued for several days, and in- 
coming boats brought tales of hard trips and bad 
weather. 
With us time had begun to be a thing of moment, for 
our runs were to be long, as we were to return by the 
north shore. We should be moving on, and_ we held 
daily consultations on the advisability of going, with 
every prospect of a very hard day's run; but our faith 
in luck had not diminished, and we were enjoying life 
very well. 
After five days at anchor, we awoke one morning 
early to find a light spinnaker breeze blowing. A long 
day, but an easy one, for it was a sixty-five mile run to 
Port Rondeau, and no harbor anywhere en route. 
With all hands on deck at 4 o'clock we hoisted sail 
and left Put-in-Bay. Setting the spinnaker just outside 
the bay, we laid our course due east to pass south of 
Ballast and Middle islands. Our log was put out, and 
when four miles east of Middle Island, we headed for 
Southeast Shoal Lightship, with a course of N.E.%K it 
was a beautiful morning—a day to take it easy and en- 
joy the water, sky and air to the utmost. 
Bowling along at a merry gait until late in the morn- 
ing, we oassed the lightship, leaving it a mile to port, 
and shaped our course N.E. to make Port Rondeau 
On our port bow was Pelee Spit, which we soon lett 
behind, putting ourselves out of sight of all land for two 
or three hours. . 
As the afternoon advanced, the breeze died out, leav- 
ing a flat calm, and off the NW. was brewing a thunder 
storm. It looked ominous. . ' „ 
"Let's get ready for this. Double-reef the mainsail 
and see what's coming." 
Halliards were cleared and everything stowed. Rub- 
ber coats were put on and we were really ready. We 
waited. A light air out of the east came up and still the 
storm seemed to be coming on out of the northwest. 
We dropped jib and driver and sat waiting, ready we 
were; but the storm went around to the west, so we put 
on all sail and shook out the reefs. 
Still our easterly air, and then the storm was coming 
again. 
"Double-reef again!" 
Double-reef we did, and doused jib and driver. Wo 
more wind and no more storm; so for the second time 
we put on all sail again. The light east wind had al- 
most gone out, leaving fog. 
Rondeau was some eight miles farther, and night was 
coming on. Not a promising one either, for we could 
hardly see the light. 
Our course had been carefully taken and as carefully 
kept, and before dark we had made out the port with 
the glasses. 
Knowing we were not to have a shore supper, we 
enjoyed some good canned chicken, a la creme, and 
made ready for a calm night. The storm had gone 
round, but we did enjoy the satisfaction of having been 
ready for it, so we took hour watches now and were 
happy. 1 . 
We had barely steerage way left; but, fortunately, 
Port Rondeau was not a commercial port, so we had 
no fear of large vessels. We managed to keep our 
course for a little while, but we could not see the light. 
Finally it was little use, and a boat does move even 
with no perceptible wind, so the A. B. took her trick 
at the tiller. It was about 3 o'clock in the morning 
when she declared she heard shore sounds. 
"Captain, come up," called the mate who had been 
on watch forward, "we hear shore sounds on our port 
bow. I heard a rooster crow off there, too." 
"If your compass is working, it's impossible," quoth 
the sleepy captain, and he went below to pick up that 
dream of cruising in the Mediterranean where he had 
left it. It was no use, he was soon called again, and 
the A. B. resigned the tiller to him and she went be- 
low, still insisting that she heard shore sounds, and she 
was right, for in a few moments we were aground. Not 
badly, of course, for we had no real steerage way and 
the yawl rested as easily as on a feather bed. 
All sail was dropped and the anchor was carried out 
astern to kedge off to. Then we let off the mainsheet, 
so the boom was at right angles to the boat, and 
topped it up. . 
"Come on, you girls," urged the mate, climb into 
the dinghy and get on the end of this boom." 
"What if we should drop in?" 
"Drop in, why that wouldn't hurt anything. Water 
is a little wetter than fog, that's all." 
Our mate was always optimistic, and a heavy weight 
in the bargain, but it always takes three to list the 
yawl. We soon canted her over, so her keel no longer 
rested on the bottom, and the captain pulled her free. 
"All right, we're afloat." He held the lantern, which 
closely resembled a fire-fly in this fog, and we scrambled 
back and anchored for the rest of the night. There 
was a lively discussion as to who it was that had 
failed to keep the course, and no one had been so 
careless. Our talking had attracted the attention of a 
wakeful farmer's wife, and a voice came out of the 
fog, asking what the matter was. For answer we 
preferred to ask a question about the light. 
"About two miles east," was the answer. "Need 
any help?" 
"No, thank you, we were only looking for the light," 
called back the shrewd skipper. 
Their friendly solicitude was appreciated, but we pre- 
ferred to keep our real situation to ourselves. 
Wet and sleepy, we lay ourselves down for a few 
winks before daylight. That is, some of us did, for 
some of us were good sleepers. 
It always took the skipper to see to things, for 
she never slept unless she had to. She sat up and 
shivered to enjoy the birds' morning carols. 
Daybreak revealed our situation, and we were not 
more than thirty feet from shore, with the light hardly 
a mile's sail away. 
The port of Rondeau is a delusion and a snare. We 
found good piers and a lighthouse, with a large bay 
inside, perfectly land-locked, but no place for a boat 
drawing five feet to sail in. The town of Rondeau does 
not exist, unless one small store can be called a town, 
and that lies at the extreme end of the bay. There is 
a summer resort at the pier called Erie. 
Here we expected important mail, and had supposed 
Port Rondeau to be at the piers. After a few hours' 
rest, the ladies started to hunt Rondeau and mail, while 
the men took the yacht on. to Port Stanley, where we 
joined them. Their breeze was a fresh one on the 
quarter, so that they had to tuck in two reefs. This is 
easy, even though short-handed, in a yawl. She travels 
along under jib and driver, while the mainsail is let 
down and reefed at leisure. One man steers, the other 
reefs and takes his time. Meanwhile, the boat is 
under absolute control. 
All the Canadian ports that can have any possible 
commercial use are being improved and are snug har- 
bors. A little stream, hardly a river, is the raison d'etre 
of them all. Much can be said for Port Stanley itself, 
but we were not so well impressed by the people. Their 
welcome was hardly cordial. Tied alongside the pier, 
we were at the mercy of their remarks, which were 
mostly harmless sarcasm but irritating. Even the 
harbor master tried to collect dues, but our lawyer was 
not to be duped that way, and asked for the statute. 
He read and declined to pay and afterward proved his 
point upon correspondence with the government 
3 uthoritics 
From Port Stanley to Port Burwell is a paltry 
twenty miles, a mere step, so after an early breakfast 
we set sail about 9 o'clock, with a nice wind from the 
land. This went out presently, leaving us very nearly 
becalmed until the 10 o'clock breeze came off the 
lake, giving us a nice wind on the beam. It was a 
glorious sailing day, but we were glad to have such a 
short run, as the morrow's run was to be very long. 
Sailing by day and making a port every afternoon was 
like running on schedule time, if such an indignity can 
be offered a sail boat. 
By this time the moon was at its best in the early 
morning, so we slept with our weather eye open to 
make an early start for Port Maitland, as it was 
seventy- five miles, with no chance short of it for good 
shelter. Inside Long Point is a small bay off the light- 
house, but very indifferent protection at best, I am told. 
At 1 o'clock the mate jumped up to view the prospects. 
"Out of sight, captain, let's be off. The night's simply 
great, and there's an offlander blowing that is the real 
thing." 
So silently did they get under way that the A. B., 
lying snug in her berth, called out, "Are'n't we off 
yet?" 
"Off? We're a mile out." She curled up contentedly, 
lulled to sleep again by the cheerful sound of the water 
rushing past the pillow. Not so the skipper; her head 
had been above the companion to see that they had 
cleared all right. It was a beautiful start. A breeze 
of fifteen miles on the quarter was sending us along 
111 the stillness of the night. Every star shone out its 
brightest. Water and sky seemed to combine forces 
to charm the mariner who should be on deck. 
We were not more than a mile from shore, so the 
mate stood watch forward for pound nets. 
"Nets to starboard; quick!" "Hard a-lee," _ "A 
pole dead ahead," etc., came sharply out of the night. 
Toward 5 o'clock the offlander went out, leaving bald 
spots all about us. It was hardly worth while to hold 
the tiller, but a ripple ahead encouraged the helmsman. 
At 6 o'clock it was the duty of the ladies to turn out, 
so the A. B. came on deck to find the yawl off the 
lighthouse at the western end of Long Point. Across 
the narrow strip of land one could see Port Rowan, 
ten miles across the bay, and pick out the cottages of 
the Long Point Company in the marshes just inside the 
bay. Long Point is a long, narrow sand spit, and is 
owned by a company of sportsmen who occupy these 
cottages in the fall while they shoot ducks and deer, 
with which they have stocked the point. 
Sitting at the tiller, to be on hand if the ripples and 
bald spots should be merged into one, the A. B. 
scanned the point with the glasses in an effort to catch 
a deer at the water's edge. It was a listless occupa- 
tion. No clouds to watch, no boats nearer than the 
ship's course on the far horizon, no gulls and no breeze. 
It was a dreamy hour. Below there were sounds that 
are evidences of happy dreams. All was as still as nature, 
can be when she is drowsy. It was a warm morning 
and she felt it. 
"What's for breakfast?" 
"I'm for jute rugs," (the mate's name for shredded 
wheat biscuit). 
"We got milk at Burwell you know." 
"We'll take it in the cockpit." 
But, alas! that milk had soured and was about to 
go by the board, when the A.B. thought of the good 
cottage cheese it would make, and make it she did and 
tied the bag to the jigger shroud, letting it hang over 
the side to drain. 
Skirting the shore for several hours, with barely 
steerage way, we began to notice a deeper blue in the 
water. Why was this? The Coast Pilot was referred to, 
and we found that Lake Erie is deepest off Long Point. 
Our breeze began picking up and heading us as if 
it might be going around with the sun, as it often does 
in mid-summer. Our course was due E., but fortu- 
nately the breeze died out about noon. Here was the 
mate's chance to swim for a breeze. It is a much 
surer remedy for a calm than scratching the mast or 
whistling. He did go in while we kept a sharp watch 
astern, lest that 2 o'clock breeze should come ahead of 
time. The water was exceptionally clear as we were 
off the end of Long Point. 
Barely ten minutes after the mate was on deck again 
a light breeze came out of the S.W., and our course 
was N.E. by E. for Port Maitland, thirty-five miles 
away. Another spinnaker breeze, and one where a 
spinnaker added greatly to our speed. 
To be sure we were not bowling along very fast, but 
it meant that we would make Port Maitland that night 
if the breeze held. 
Before long we had left all land beyond our horizon, 
. and it is much less entertaining sailing to have no 
land to speculate upon and no light to look for. Even 
calling all hands to look at the lighthouse you have 
picked up ahead and which proves to be a tiny fishing 
buoy, is more entertaining than water, water every- 
where. 
[to be concluded.] 
Idttge and %nlhrg. 
Zettler Rifle Club. 
The attendance at the regular practice shoot held Nov. 1, was 
very light. Scores follow on the 25-ring target, 75ft., offhand: 
L. P. Hansen 1208, C. Zettler, Jr., 1207, C. G. Zettler 1191, L. 
Maurer 1184, F. J. Herpers 1155, J. G. Bernius 1151, A. Begerow 
1137, T. H. Keller 1136. 
On Oct. 29 the ladies held a contest on the Zettler ranges, in 
which Miss Millie Zimmerman, daughter of that famous marks- 
man, Gus Zimmerman, led the race for first place. Scores: Miss 
Millie Zimmerman 486, Mrs. H. Fenwirth 485, Miss K. Zimmer- 
man 482, Miss B. Ludwig 479, Miss F. Muller 478, Mrs. F. Liegie- 
bel 476, Mrs. F. Watson, Mrs. Stoltz 469, Mrs. H. Scheu 466, 
Mrs. U. W. Turbett 464, Mrs. B. Zettler 45L 
