64 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Jan. ii, 1906. 
details may be altered and improved as the re¬ 
sult of experience. Each season s sport will 
probably induce a revision of ideas and 
opinions, though frequently the ice boating sea¬ 
son is too short for thoroughly trying out a 
boat. On the other hand, hard winters may be 
recalled when there was good boating oft and 
on for a period of two or more months. 
It does not seem possible to design and build 
a good ice boat wholly from scientific reason¬ 
ing. It is rather a tentative operation, the re¬ 
sult of experience and close observation, com¬ 
bined with a correct idea of the underlying 
principles and skilful designing. 
Finally a word as to materials, tor the 
keel and runner plank of boats of moderate 
size white pine or Jersey poplar are suitable 
woods, if of good quality; for spars use spruce 
The writer does not favor hollow keels, or 
backbones, as they are sometimes called^ Ihe 
saving in weight is very slight compared with 
the increased cost, and it is doubtful whether 
the weight saved is of any benefit, as no very 
light ice boat, unless weighted, is good on the 
wind While hollow spars may be of advantage 
to sailboats, it may be questioned whether their 
increased diameter does not offset the saving 
in weight by reason of their g re ^ er ^ n ^ g ® T 
Red Bank, N. J. 
Going to Sea. 
IConcluded from page 24.) 
The fo’castle was in the forward end of the 
house that was built on deck between the fore¬ 
mast and the main hatch. It was a dark little 
box about 10ft. by 12ft., entered by a door on 
each side, and as my eyes became accustomed 
to the gloom I saw a double row of bunks that 
looked more like stalls than bed places, foui 
against the forward bulkhead, two against the 
after partition, and two along each side of the 
room lapping by the after bunks and ending 
iust so as to leave room for the doors between 
them and the forward bunks. The upper ones 
of these side bunks were the most desirable ot 
all as they each had access to the window in 
the side of the house. The only other means of 
lighting the place was by the doorways, and when 
these were closed or when night settled down a 
badly dilapidated lantern hanging from a beam in 
the middle of the fo’castle furnished light. 
I changed my blue serge suit for a new shift 
of dungarees with the breeches about six inches 
too long in the legs. We did not have long to 
shift our clothes before the mates came to the 
fo’castle door to get us to turn to, but in the 
short time we did have I was watching the rest 
of the crew. They all seemed cheerful enough 
and were, all but one, quite young men. Jim 
was the exception, an old codger whose nation¬ 
ality no one could determine, but whose age was 
close on to sixty. He by the aid of his whiskey 
bottle was fast getting drunk. Then there was 
a powerful young Swiss who went by the name 
of Fred and was a queer kind of a character. 
He also came from the Home along with Bill, a 
Norwegian, with a long-pointed beard and looked 
more like a Jehu than anything else, and myself. 
The others were Kaiser, a little bit of a short 
German just up to my shoulders; Peter, a Spaniard, 
and Charlie, a Prussian, who turned out to be 
the strongest man in the ship. These were to 
be my companions for close on to a year, ana it 
was but natural we should make ourselves ac¬ 
quainted. When we stepped on deck we were 
put to work passing the towing hawser, a, great 
big twelve-incher as big around as a man s leg, 
aft on to the poop deck and down to the tug 
lying close under the Wright’s stern, waiting to 
pull her out into the river. 
When all was ready those who were not going 
jumped ashore, the tug started to puff, and 
slowly, very slowly, the bark began to back along 
the pier. The crowd on the dock threw our 
mooring lines off and followed us out to the end 
of the' pier, some to shout farewell, others 
drawn simply by curiosity. We, on the bark, had 
our hands full just then pulling in wet and drip¬ 
ping hawsers and getting the heavy fenders in 
on deck, but I managed to find time to glance 
ashore just as we were leaving the dock, and 
there, standing a full head above the crowd, was 
Bob looking rather dubious, but still bravely 
waving a farewell to me. 
And now there was no retreating, so pulling 
my thoughts together I made up my mind I had 
to go on to the end. It was a beautiful clear 
day, that 3d day of August, 1892, the East River 
was alive with its ferryboats, tugboats, smacks 
and schooners, while down the bay was a fleet 
of outward bounders—the schooners under sail, 
making the mose of the westerly wind blowing 
to save towage, but all the square-riggers like 
ourselves, had a tug ahead. The atmosphere was 
so clear the red houses on the Bayonne shore, 
back of the Statue of Liberty, seemed closer than 
usual, while Bay Ridge, with its fleet of yachts, 
looked strange and unfamiliar. 
I had never viewed the shores from so high 
a platform as I was now on, and perhaps that 
was the reason. 
We braced around the main yards for the 
westerly wind that was blowing, and in doing so 
the topsail brace parted and Bill and I were sent 
up to get hold of it and splice it. From here, as 
we sat on the main yard, I could see the streets 
opening up along South Brooklyn as we passed 
them. I could trace out my home on Forty- 
seventh street, and even see the row of build¬ 
ings it was in, the brick school house on the 
corner and the little church spire beyond. On 
deck the heat was intense and all hands were 
hard at work. All the fenders were put down, 
the fore hatch, the barrels of coal were rolled 
under the fo’castle head, all the spare lumber 
was lashed and relashed across the mam hatch; 
then also sheets and tacks were got out and bent 
on, and the anchors hove up on the bows and 
lashed. 
While this sounds easy it takes a long and 
tiresome job of heaving and straining at the cap- 
stain bars to raise the anchors, that weighed 
about two tons each, to the height of the fo castle 
head upon which the heavy flukes were landed 
and firmly lashed so the big black wooden stock 
stood up alongside the cat head on each side 
like two immense horns, there to stay until Val¬ 
paraiso was reached. 
I never had done any real hard work before, 
but now I was working like a stevedore. My 
pride would not let me hang back. I would do 
as much as the rest or drop, and when an order 
was given I jumped to obey, although many of 
them were Greek to me, and I had to wait until 
someone else took hold first. But I showed I 
was willing, and this alone was probably what 
saved me from abuse for my ignorance. 
Then, although I was half dead already, just 
as we were off the Swash Channel we were 
ordered aloft to “loose everything.” I climbed 
up the main rigging with some, while others went 
up and loosened the sails on the foremast. I 
never knew how the sails were kept on the yards 
until I lay out on the topsail yard, and imitat¬ 
ing the others began to cast off the gaskets as 
the ropes that are wrapped around both yard 
and sail are called. 
I looked down on deck as I was working to 
see if the mates or anyone was watching me, 
for I knew I must have made an awkward figure, 
my legs spread out like a letter A, trying to keep 
my footing on the swinging foot rope that would 
insist on swinging under the yard, and trying 
to capsize me. But a little practice soon taught 
me to hold my legs rigid as I worked. 
When all hands had come down on deck we 
sheeted home the lower topsails and then started 
to hoist the heavy fore upper topsail. But the 
old fellow Jim had sneaked into the fo castle as 
soon as he came down from aloft and was not 
missed until we tallied on to the fall. I hen 
the mate saw he was missing, and while the sec¬ 
ond mate and the rest of us slowly hoisted the 
heavy yard to the tune of a shanty, sung y 
the second mate, he went forward to hunt up 
Jim. The next thing I knew I heard some 
swearing and there was the mate dragging Jim 
by one leg aft to the mainmast. He was dead 
drunk and limp as a rag. The combined kicks 
of the captain and mate failed to rouse him from 
his drunken stupor, so they left him to sober up 
after sousing him from head to foot with a couple 
of buckets of salt water. I noticed as he lay 
there on his side one ear was full of water, and 
so it stayed until the hot sun drank it up, and 
his coarse red skin was turned to a bright scarlet 
Sail after sail was mast-headed and sheeted 
home, while I did my best to remember where 
the different ropes led to. One thing I notl ced 
was that the ropes that led to one side of the 
back at the foremast led to the opposite side at 
the mainmast. So that while the fore upper top¬ 
sail halliards came down to port the mam came 
down on the starboard side, and the same thing 
was true about the yards as they went up on the 
mast, the main topsail being to starboard, the top¬ 
gallant halliards came to port, and the royal to 
starboard, alternating. What I could not at first 
reconcile to any regular order were the many 
buntlines and clewlines, but I learned them a 
before Valparaiso was reached and could find any 
on the darkest night. 
The gear was old and worn, and our crew 
none too large, so when we came to the heavy 
main topsail the captain, cook and all hands 
tallied on. , , , 
Going through the Narrows we were boarded 
by a pilot from a pilot schooner that was beating 
out, although our captain had refused to hire 
him, saying he had waited over an hour tor 
his pilot at the dock and did not want one now. 
There was just enough wind in the lower bay 
to keep what sail we had set full, and all hands 
were now given a few minutes’ rest after the 
heavy work of setting sail. My strength was 
well nigh exhausted, and I was just beginning 
to think I could get a moment’s rest, when the 
mate came forward with a blue flag on his arm 
and a couple of rope yarns and told me to seize 
the flag on the fore royal backstay. So aloft i 
started and got half way up the topmast rigging 
when my strength nearly failed me. I hung 
close to the ratlines for a minute for my head , 
to stop swimming, and then slowly crawled up 
to the gallant rigging. I reached the royal rig¬ 
ging, made the flag fast, and noticed as it blew , 
out that it was the blue peter, the pilot flag. 
Looking ahead, as I made my way slowly down, 
I saw it was a signal, for there lay a pilot 
schooner at anchor just ahead of us, her large 
blue flag flying from a long pole at the main top 
mast, and as I looked a boat put out Root her 
side and pulled off to intercept us. Our tug 
then slowed down, the heavy hawser sagged and 
dipped into the water, but still the bark forged 
ahead so it took some skill for the men in the 
pilot yawl to hook on to our main chains. But 
they knew their business, and making no effort 
to catch the line hove to them by our mate they 
caught the channels with their boat hook, while 
the pilot, disdaining the use of a side ladder our 
captain had had thrown over for him, dropped 
