626 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 15, 1910. 
BIG SI.OOPS IN 
Motor Boat Spoiled Vacation. 
At one of the small boat houses at the foot 
of the slope where Riverside drops off into the 
Hudson, a young man gloomily was mooring a 
small, black-hulled motor boat one day last 
week. It wasn’t much of a boat, as motor boats 
go. It was minus a motor, but there were all 
the signs of one, its bottom being smeared with 
dirty oil, and a disconnected gasolene tank was 
fitted in the bow. ^Having tied his boat, the 
young man walked a few steps to a battered 
looking motor that lay on the boat house float. 
Tucking his toe under it, the gloomy young 
man shoved it overboard. There could be no 
mistaking the young man’s intent. He meant 
the motor to go just where it did. And as the 
ripples grew larger and disappeared he sadly 
turned away and started shoreward. 
The strange proceeding had been witnessed 
by several persons on shore, according to the 
New York Times, and one was so deeply in¬ 
terested that he .accosted the gloomy young 
man. 
“Is that where you store your motor for the 
winter?” he asked. 
“Yes, next winter and the next and summers, 
too. for that matter,” he answered. “I’m done 
with it. Done with everything like it, too, you 
bet. Once I was an amateur at this motor boat 
game. I’m not one any longer. I’ve qualified. 
I started on a vacation about the middle of the 
summer. My wife went with me, and we had a 
bully long rest ahead with the prospect of lots 
of sport. We took a fine little bungalow at the 
edge of the waterway, some miles from here, 
and I bought a rowboat. 
“But there were lots of motor boats around, 
and my wife was quite taken with them. She 
succeeded in getting me interested, too. I only 
had a few hundred dollars, but we figured it out 
and decided we coul afford to put about $50 
in a motor boat. Of course one couldn’t ex¬ 
pect to get much of a motor boat for that, but 
I began to look around, and one day I came 
across that little boat you see moored out there. 
It’s only 15 feet long, but it was strong, so I 
bought it for $15. 
“Next I began looking for a motor—a sec¬ 
ond-hand one would do, a friend told me, and 
unkind fate led me to a dealer who had one he 
would sell for $15. He wouldn’t guarantee it 
to run, but he didn’t see any reason why it 
shouldn’t. He assured me it used to run, and 
that he recently had had the cylinder rebored— 
whatever that meant—so I bought it. 
“Now I had a boat and a motor, and my 
wife was delighted. I took both to a machine 
shop, and my troubles began. It cost $10 to 
have the rowboat’s stern bored for the shaft 
and a bed installed for the motor. It cost $15 
more to have the gasoline tank put in, the en¬ 
gine fitted out with necessary piping and a few 
nuts and bolts and connections screwed on. 
“Two weeks thus slipped by, and at last all 
was ready to start the engine. They started it 
—or rather they tried to. The motor went 
about four strokes and then stopped. More 
days were lost refitting and repiping, and the 
machinists decided that the rings on the piston 
were too small for the cylinder. It would only 
cost $10 for a new piston and new rings and a 
new casting for the piston. I told them to go 
ahead. Two more weeks passed. 
“In the meanwhile my wife had taken a look 
at the boat. She said she didn’t think much of 
its looks, and to please her I got a boat builder 
to construct a strip deck over the bow, put an 
oak combing around the deck, and in other ways 
make her look neater. The strip deck and 
other woodwork cost me $30 more. 
“Then there were other expenses. I found 
that the regulations required a red and green 
light, also a white one. Life preservers also 
were required, likewise a whistle and a foghorn. 
The things that were necessary for that boat 
were really alarming. 
“I was getting desperate. My vacation was 
slipping away and I was wasting my time 
around the machine shop. But at last, when 
only five days more of my vacation remained, 
everything seemed to be ready. They started 
the engine on the dock, and it ran finely. My 
wife came down to see the launching of the 
Spendthrift, as we had named it. 
“Once in the water, the machinist started the 
motor without connecting it to the propeller 
shaft. It ran fine. Then he connected the shaft 
and gave the fly-wheel a turn. Suddenly there 
was a rr-upppp and a thud and a hiss. The 
motor stopped dead and a piece of metal flew 
past my ear into the water. The connecting 
shaft had broken, the water jacket was punc¬ 
tured, the fly-wheel was broken, and a few other 
things. It was the last straw, and I decided to 
shove it overboard and save money. I’m done.” 
Canoeing. 
D. T. Cash more’s Serious Fall. 
Dudley Thurman Cashmore, a member of the 
Knickerbocker C. C., met wtih a serious acci¬ 
dent recently while climbing the Palisades op¬ 
posite Spuyten Duyvil. He, with Robert J. 
Romlein and another companion started out 
from the camp at Hermit Point, where they 
were for the week end. The camp site at 
Hermit Point is a concession from the Palisade 
Park Commission to the Hudson Canoe Club 
Federation, of which the Knickerbocker, Fort 
Washington, Inwood and Algonquin clubs are 
members. 
The canoeists had donned spiked shoes, and 
equipped with alpenstock and ropes, started 
to scale the Palisades half a mile north of 
camp, where the cliffs rise perpendicularly 
nearly 350 feet. The climb at this point has 
all the hazard of a mountain climb. 
The party got up as high as 290 feet over the 
most difficult kind of going. They found only 
at intervals ledges wide enough upon which to 
rest. They tore their clothing making their 
way over jagged and rocky portions of the way. 
Suddenly Cashmore slipped, and with a cry dis¬ 
appeared from view. His companions turned 
and looked for him in vain. Then they hurried 
down to look for him. 
Seventy feet below they found him. He had 
struck on a ledge about three feet wide. The 
ledge was sloping, and all that saved Cashmore 
from continuing his plunge to the bottom was 
a group of three shrubs in which his clothing 
had caught. Cashmore was unconscious. All 
efforts to revive him failed. Romlein and his 
other companion realized that they could not 
succeed in any plan to carry him down with 
them, and decided that the best thing to do was 
to go back to the camp for help. They drove 
A CLOSE RACE. 
their alpenstocks into the shallow earth as far 
as they could, wound ropes around Cashmore’s 
body and attached them to juts of rock and the 
shrubbery to prevent his falling, and then made 
their way painfully to the bottom. Reaching 
the base of the Palisades exhausted, they started 
to run the half mile to the camp. 
Cashmore’s fellow campers formed a rescu¬ 
ing party without loss of time. One of the first 
members of the party to ascend was Dr. Davis, 
who administered first aid to the injured man. 
He stanched the flow of blood, but failed to re¬ 
store Cashmore to consciousness. Members of 
the second rescue party had hauled Cashmore’s 
cot up after them by slow and arduous stages, 
and arrived a quarter of an hour after the ad¬ 
vance party with the doctor. 
With great difficulty and at considerable per¬ 
sonal danger Cashmore was lifted on to the cot 
and fastened to it with ropes. The cot was 
slung on a cradle of ropes, and then with men 
above and men below, was gradually lowered 
from one stage of the descent to another. It 
took an hour and a half to complete the work, 
during every minute of which it was feared that 
Cashmore might die, and during scarcely an in¬ 
terval of which the members of the rescuing 
party did not take hazardous risks. 
The wind was high and the Hudson was 
choppy, but the situation demanded that Cash¬ 
more be hurried to a hospital as quickly as pos¬ 
sible. He was placed in the bottom of a canoe, 
manned by the two best paddlers in the three 
canoe clubs. When they got into midstream, 
they fortunately met a motor boat, which took 
Cashmore the rest of the distance to the landing 
at Cox’s boat house, near Dyckman street. A 
telephone message was sent to the Washington 
Heights Hospital, which sent an ambulance. 
Cashmore had a double fracture of the jaw. 
broken collar bone and internal injuries. He is 
on the fair road to recovery. 
SOMEWHAT MIXED. 
“I can't see why men like to get up early 
and go fishing,” remarked Mrs. Maud N. Mala- 
prop. “Now, my husband is a regular anglo- 
maniac. I mean he’s a debauchee to the epis- 
catory art. Fish? Why, lie’s an apostle of old 
Izaak Newton himself!”—Scraps. 
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