624 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 1 7> 1908. 
of them and the large case of detonating caps 
were sunk in the bottom of the ocean. 
The wind and sea moderated somewhat to¬ 
ward sundown, and we felt that if the Advance 
were alongside she might have been able to take 
us off. But, though we searched the horizon 
line, we could get no sight of her. The many 
rain squalls which had been blowing down from 
the northwest all day made it impossible for 
one to see very far. 
As soon as darkness shut down we kept a 
careful lookout on deck for steamers, hoping 
that the Advance would appear in the early 
morning and make the much belated attempt. 
Our position was becoming a very serious one, 
for without a rudder and no effective means of 
keeping her head to the sea, the incessant 
pounding under her stern continued, weakening 
it to such an extent that wje did not think it 
would last through the night. 
At about 1 A. M. Sunday, John reported a 
steamer’s light, so we immediately lighted our 
flare, started burning Coston lights, and I got 
my shotgun on deck and fired a number of 
cartridges. The steamer was evidently making 
directly for us, and we all supposed that she 
was the Advance. It was a long, weary wait 
for us all till daybreak, when, we felt sure, 
though it was blowing hard and a tremendous 
sea was running, she would send her boats out 
to us. 
When day broke, however, she turned out to 
be the Norwegian tramp steamer Ran of 
Bergen, heavily laden, so heavily, in fact, that 
her main decks forward and aft were com¬ 
pletely awash whenever she was in the trough 
of the sea. Often she shipped it green over 
her bows when going to windward. 
At first she started to clear away her boats, 
but evidently thought better of it—the sea was 
running too high. 
Instead she worked directly to windward of 
us and let go a life buoy with a line attached, 
in the hope that it would drift down to us. 
Though the buoy floated, the line sank and we 
were unable to grapple it. Seeing the difficulty, 
she buoyed the line and started towing it around 
us. but the end would always swing clear, as 
she maneuvered so slowly. 
In turn we sent a galvanized-iron buoy with 
a line attached off to leeward, but the line 
parted and we lost it. We sent off another 
buoy of the same kind with a buoyed line, but 
it proved of no service. 
Boylston and I then got into the little dory 
we had on deck with a line attached and pro¬ 
ceeded to drift down to leeward and get the 
end of their line. This did not work, however, 
as the strain of the line from the dory to the 
Mayflower was so great that when it brought 
up in a heavy sea it nearly capsized us. We 
got back aboard with difficulty. 
When we got back the Ran was to windward, 
clearing her leeward lifeboat to make another 
attempt to lower. They swung her out, and 
with the crew in her started to lower. It was 
a desperate chance, however, for with the rolls 
of the steamer the boat swung in against her 
side and bid fair to smash up. Whether she did 
or not we could not tell, but they immediately 
hoisted her in again. This dashed another of 
our hopes to pieces. 
The Mayflower was lying badly and pounding 
fearfully. When I was off in the dory I could 
see that all the seams under her counter were 
started. The paint worked off and the whole 
concern was on its last legs. So we decided to 
take everything out of her lazarette and throw 
it overboard. An iron winch, several barrels 
of flour and beef, to the amount of nearly two 
tons, relieved her immensely, though she con¬ 
tinued to pound severely. 
We then rigged the foreboom up on the main¬ 
mast and set the remnant of the trysail as far 
aft as possible in the hope that it would swing 
her stern around, but it did little good. Next 
we commenced taking the ballast out of the 
after stateroom and carrying it forward. 
By this time the Ran had circled us again 
with a line in tow, and Noyes, stripped and 
greased with oil, a lifebelt about his waist and 
the log. line attached, swam for the trailing 
line, made it fast to the buoy about his waist 
and was towed back. It was a gallant action, 
as he knew that a ten-foot shark was alongside. 
The mere moral support of having a line to 
a steamer cheered us up to no end. We got 
it forward and made it fast, while they swung 
down across our bow and took in the slack. 
We then began to take up on our sea anchor 
to get enough line to send them, when the 
light line caught in their propeller and parted. 
With some difficulty they cleared the ends and 
then pulled away to the westward, evidently dis¬ 
couraged with attempting to get us in such 
rough weather and determining to hold off till 
it moderated. 
Evidently there was nothing left for us to 
do but to fall back upon our own resources, so 
the mate commenced making a proper sea 
anchor. We built a triangular frame, covered 
it with canvas, weighted it and made it fast 
with three leads, one from each vertex, like the 
leads of a kite. The rest of us, exhausted, lay 
down below and attempted to get some rest. 
Suddenly Noyes reported another steamer 
coming up from the south. As she drew nearer 
we saw that she was white, with buff top, and 
we immediately took her for a United States 
cruiser. Again our hopes rose, for though the 
new sea anchor was making her lie well—so 
well that she barely pounded at all under the 
stern—we did not trust her for another night, 
and we knew that a United States cruiser would 
get us off somehow, if they lost their boat in 
the attempt. 
She did not turn out to be a cruiser, how¬ 
ever, but a fruiter—Hippolyte Dumois, of the 
United Fruit Company. She circled around us 
twice, battening down her hatches that covered 
the fruit and clearing away her lifeboats. She 
was evidently going to make an attempt. But 
when she was ready and swung out a boat the 
sea proved too much for her and she hauled it 
in again. Again our hopes, raised so high, were 
dashed. 
But the Dumois wasted no time, and before 
we well knew what had happened, was close 
alongside and had thrown a line across our 
deck. We hauled it in and they payed out as 
stout a hawser as I ever saw—fit to tow us to 
New York. For the first time I felt that we 
were going to pull through. We got that 
hawser lashed around the stump of the fore¬ 
mast and out through the bitts. Then we cut 
away our sea anchor, and the Dumois towed us 
around till she was lying head to the wind and 
we in the trough of the sea. To another small 
line they threw us was attached a life buoy. 
We hauled it aboard. 
There was nothing now to do but start the 
men over in it. John—the only man of the 
crew who weakened—was the first to go. Into 
the water he jumped, and away the crew on 
the Dumois hauled till they had him up to the 
counter, we snubbing him from swinging in 
with one end of the line. One by one the others 
went, we deciding to send the crew first. The 
steward, a native of New Zealand, paddled over 
like a duck, with a straw hat on the back of his 
head. 
The most humorous of all was the captain, 
who came on deck in a gray suit, black derby 
hat, life preserver about his waist and a green 
grip tied to his middle. We got him into the 
belt, lashed him and had to finally shove him 
overboard. He, of course, got twisted and went 
over mostly under water, his black derby alone 
sticking out and that green grip trailing in his 
wake. 
Guy Snell, Boylston and myself were the last 
three to go, and Boylston’s departure was the 
most dramatic of all. All alone on deck, he 
walked forward, climbed the stump of the fore¬ 
mast and took down the ensign. This he tied 
to his waist, and then, clearing the line, he got 
into the belt and jumped off. With a broad 
smile on his face and the old flag trailing be¬ 
hind he was pulled across and up over the rail. 
No sense of relief or satisfaction can, I sup¬ 
pose, equal the sensation that comes to a ship¬ 
wrecked crew when it has been saved. Cer¬ 
tainly there never was a more delighted and 
relieved shipwrecked crew than the one that 
pulled off its wet clothes in the comfortable 
cabin of the Dumois and changed into dry ones 
that were so hospitably piled up for us on the 
table. Captain Danielsen and his wife— 
Norwegians—did everything in their power to 
make us comfortable. We could only feel 
sorry for the two brave fellows who were hurt 
in the attempt to lower away the lifeboat. 
Comment on 23-Metre Yachts. 
The 23-metre British yachts have attracted 
much attention and some criticism, and the 
Field compares them with older craft. It says: 
“In the winter Sir Thomas, who previously 
had been identified only with the building of 
huge cutters Shamrock I., II., III., for the pur¬ 
pose of trying to win the America’s Cup, decided 
• to enter the ranks with yachtsmen who an¬ 
nually hammer their way from port to port 
around the coast of Britain. Sir Thomas 
Fipton gave an order to Fife to build a 23- 
metre cutter to race with White Heather, 
Brynhilde and Nyria. Now there is of course 
an immense difference between the 23-metre 
Shamrock of 1908 and the America’s Cup Sham¬ 
rocks, not as might be supposed, in the matter 
of lightness of rigging, nor in the proportion 
of sail area to length. In these two points 
(except that the 23-metre boat has a solid 
Oregon mast) it is six of one and half a dozen 
of the other; that is to say, 23-metre cutters 
and America’s Cup challengers are all rigged 
as light as can be and set as much sail as they 
can carry. 
“The difference between the types lies, first, 
in the actual size; second, in the shape, and 
third, in the scantlings. An America’s Cup 
yacht is 90ft., and has about 14,000 or 15,000 sq. 
ft. of sail, a 23-metre yacht is only 75ft. with 
9,400 sq. ft. of sail. 
“There were thirty-five races sailed, and we 
do not think even in Britannia’s best seasons 
the sport was ever better and the matches more 
evenly contested. It is the old story with these 
new yachts. So much had been said about the 
new type of yacht being a wholesome cruiser 
that some yachtsmen expected to find them built 
and rigged quite along comfortable lines. They 
are, however, except for their nice hull dimen¬ 
sions and cabins, racers every inch of them— 
racing machines, as cruising men who dislike 
fast sailing ships are wont to say. We cannot 
think, however, this is to their discredit. They 
are canvassed to behave at their best in light 
and moderate weather, and that is the long 
and short of it. If one is to win prizes in the 
average British season, it cannot be otherwise.” 
Yachting in California. 
San Francisco, Sept. 25.—The most im¬ 
portant racing event of the month in local 
yachting circles was the Farallones race, but 
the attempt to carry out this event last week 
was a failure. Eleven yachts were towed out 
beyond the Heads and a start was made to 
sail around the islands, but almost a dead calm 
prevailed, and it was found 1 ' impossible to finish 
anywhere within the time limit set by the regat¬ 
ta committee. As a result the event has been 
postponed for another week. The race which 
was planned, was to have been the second race 
for the Phillips cup and under the rules of the 
San Francisco Y. C., of which Commodore F. 
G. Phillips is a member, the. time limit last year 
was 12 hours, but it was raised to 14 hours this 
year, as it was found difficult to cover the course 
in much less time under ordinary conditions. 
The race last year was won by the sloop 
Yankee, of the Corinthian Y. C., and this fast 
vessel is again entered in the present contest. 
The fastest record time ever made over this 
course was in 1899, whn the schooner Aggie, of 
the San Francisco Y. C., covered the course in 
the remarkable time of 5h. 32m. The distance 
is estimated to be 49 miles. The race is for 
yachts of not less than 30ft. waterline, propelled 
by sail only, and this year’s entries numbered 
eleven One of the pleasant features of the 
present yachting season has been the number of 
cruises up the Sacramento River to the State 
Capitol and the members of the Sacramento 
