864 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 26, 1910. 
snug for contingencies, a trysail taking the 
place of her unwieldy mainsail. We were, how¬ 
ever. well manned, and at last the breeze found 
us under full sail. With the wind on the port 
quarter we slowly forged toward the Bar light¬ 
ship. our progress being accompanied with the 
most gruesome leaps and jumps against the 
short swell. 
The .sky up to windward was banking up in 
a very solerpn way as the sun went down. The 
breeze kept improving as the gloom thickened, 
and when the word was passed for the side¬ 
lights, we were down to the rail and churning 
in great style through the remains of the swell. 
We soon overhauled our consort under our 
press of sail, and went comfortably through her 
lee. Two of her paid hands had left her in 
Liverpool, not caring to face any more pas¬ 
sages in that ship. Her skipper, however, re¬ 
mained staunch, and shipped a new hand in 
place of the two deserters. She was plunging 
very viciously into the choppy swell, and at 
times she buried herself to the mast, while the 
skipper sat smilingly at the tiller, and the new 
hand betook himself to the companion, whence 
he viewed with some consternation the torrents 
of muddy brine sweeping on to the tiny deck 
and cascading noisily over the lee side. 
When near the bar we kept away on our 
course for Ramsay, and the breeze had 
hardened so much that we thought it prudent to 
stow the mainsail and set the trysail before 
worse should come. There was now every in¬ 
dication of a nasty night, and the outlook 
around was gloomy to a degree. The air was 
raw after the excessive heat of the day. We 
were now in the open sea and bowling along 
with the wind astern, at a great pace. Our con¬ 
sort for a time was faintly visible, but we soon 
lost sight of her in the gloom. The rain began 
at 11 o'clock, and with the rain the wind piped 
up to a merry gale. This was not altogether to 
our satisfaction, for with every symptom of 
bad weather (and the first instalment thereof, to 
boot), the thought of running on to a lee shore 
is not exhilarating. 
The passengers, clad in oilskins, now betook 
themselves to the cabin, where leaky decks 
made their raiment very appropriate indeed. 
After the fatigues of the calm at Formby, we 
were fain to forget our present miseries in sleep. 
We must, indeed, have been tired, to secure 
slumber in such circumstances—the rush of the 
water and the heaving of the little ship as she 
slowly rose on the following billows almost 
keeping pace with them, and heralding their ad¬ 
vent with a terrific roar of boiling foam off 
both quarters, the groaning of the light fabric, 
and the continuous rattling of cooking utensils, 
concealed in some inaccessible region—all these 
are bearable, and even pleasant when one has 
grown accustomed to the din; but the steady 
drip, drip, drip, of the rain through countless 
leaks in the deck is a thing little calculated to 
enhance the soundness of one’s sleep. No spot 
in the inferior of that ship was free from the 
incursion of the rain. Try this place, where the 
deck seems tightest; a sudden lurch brings a 
whole crowd of leaks to bear on your devoted 
face, and, with a groan, you realize that there 
is no place like home. However, by dint of 
multitudinous oilskins, we three passengers 
were soon in the “land of Nod,” without a 
thought of the strife going on around us, or the 
increasing murkiness of the night. 
One of us, less tired, or perhaps more anxious 
than his fellows, awoke at 1 a. m., and straight¬ 
way rolled and tumbled to the barometer. 
Small need to go on deck to ascertain how 
things are going. The tumult all around shows 
that a storm is raging now. A glance at the 
glass reveals the fact that in two hours it has 
dropped six-tenths. Up he goes on deck with 
many a bump en passant on the head, and con- 
s”lts with the hardy young sailor at the tiller. 
No one on board knows Ramsay Harbor well, 
though all are aware that it is tidal. After some 
talk it is resolved to shane a course for Doug¬ 
las, and accordingly the helm is put down for 
an instant, and the little vessel runs on with 
the wind on her port quarter. 
It may be well to state here the anxieties 
of our position. At Liverpool, as said before, 
we were dismasted. This was owing to the 
breaking of our port rigging screws. These 
were not made in the approved style, with 
double screws, but with a swivel at the lower 
end. After the breakage it was found that the 
neck of this swivel was no less than one-eighth 
of an inch less in diameter than the screw, and 
this notwithstanding the fact that the drawing 
from which they were made was carefully pre¬ 
pared, and the various sizes also marked in 
figures. We were now sailing with two stout 
shackles in the port channels, but on the star¬ 
board side we still sported the two screws cor¬ 
responding to those which played us false at 
Liverpool. No doubt this was a culpable pro¬ 
ceeding, but some excuse was forthcoming, and 
the proverbial recklessness of Jack sometimes 
extends to his master. 
The gale was on our port quarter, and so far 
our rigging was safe; but what if we make a 
bad landfall! We are running on to a lee 
shore, and that shore girt with the most cruel 
rocks. The wind and fain now bore excellent 
testimony to the merits of our barometer. The 
force of the gale was such that thrice did it 
lift the yachting cap from the head of the 
writer, and in the end removed it without the 
option of a clutch. Yet it fitted tightly, and he 
believes that his head is of no mean order for 
the purpose of retaining hats or caps. The sea 
was running very high and the night was 
opaque to the last degree. In the driving rain 
and darkness the billows loomed immense. The 
little ship sped along splendidly without giving 
the following sea a chance to poop her. Her 
high counter served well in this respect, and 
indeed through all that night, and in the far 
more trying time to follow she behaved as no 
other boat of her size, or as few vessels of 
thrice her tonnage at that time could have done. 
Perhaps, for a time, the gravest feature in 
the situation was the fact that we had sprung a 
really bad leak. The pump—at the best of times 
but an indifferent fixture—was utterly unable to 
cope with the volume of water which found its 
way aboard. It is no exaggeration to say that, 
shortly after changing our course for Douglas, 
our craft was sinking. Two large iron buckets 
were kept going to aid the pump, and yet the 
water- gained. It had soon risen over the cabin 
floor, and it was clear that something must be 
very seriously wrong. Fortunately the spot 
where the leak existed was suspected. It had 
given trouble earlier in the season, but had 
been, as we thought, properly repaired. The 
caulking in two of the seams on each side had 
worked in for a length of some two or three 
feet. This was just abreast of the apron, close 
to the junction of the planking with the stem. 
These leaks were difficult to get at, but on go¬ 
ing forward the water could be plainly heard 
squirting viciously in. Nothing under the cir¬ 
cumstances could be done to stop the mischief 
completely, but by dint of stuffing bundles of 
tow in between the planking and the apron, and 
piling the chain cable on top, we were enabled 
to keep the leak under by a continual use of 
the buckets and the miserable apology for a 
pump. Truly these were changed times for us 
who had been, but eight hours before, basking 
in sunshine of almost tropical heat. 
The dawn broke at last on as cheerless a 
prospect as those on board had ever witnessed. 
The sky was inky and the cold rain drove with 
cruel force. All hands were hard at work, and, 
at the pace which the little craft had kept us 
since leaving the bar, land should sopn be close 
at hand. As we flew on, the sea became every 
minute more and more broken, and we rightly 
regarded this as a certain indication of our 
proximity to the land, for truly still-vexed are 
the waters which encircle Mona. It was a time 
of keen suspense when we sighted land. Close 
to it we needs must be to see it at all in the 
thickness of the rain. At length it loomed up 
in front of 11s, high and faintly defined, and we 
could even now hear the roar of the breakers 
at the bottom of the cliffs. What the land was 
" r e were not sure, joa-e of ns held it to be 
Douglas Hpotl but others said we must be far 
southward of Douglas, and that this could not 
be the head because there was no tower on its 
summit. The range of view was very small, 
owing to the thickness of the rain, and little 
time could be given to argument. All were 
agreed that if the land were not Douglas Head 
we must be to the southward. This belief was 
apparently confirmed by our suddenly espying 
a small yacht running up along the coast. We 
took her to be a craft which had sailed some 
three hours before we left Birkenhead, and wc 
thought that, making a bad landfall, she was 
now running for Douglas. In this we were 
right in all save that, as it afterwards appeared, 
she was making for Ramsay. 
Three minutes or so was all the time we had 
in which to decide after sighting land, so we 
stayed the little ship (we dared not gybe), and 
nobly she went round, and, with sheets all 
checked, away we scudded with the gale on our 
starboard quarter. 
This was the tender side of our rigging, and 
many an anxious glance was cast at our screws 
when a heavy sea swept up to us. Thus we flew 
along for the space of about twenty minutes, 
when suddenly, as one of us gazed back over 
the lee quarter, the atmosphere cleared for a 
brief space, and there was Douglas Head, about 
four miles astern! It was the head that we had 
sighted first, and had we trusted more to our 
splendid little binnacle we should have been 
saved the anxious moments which were now to 
follow. We preferred to thrash back, if possible, 
for Douglas rather than run for Ramsay, with 
which we were none too well acquainted. More¬ 
over, with the dread of the bad rigging screws, 
and a hopelessly cruel shore on our lee, any¬ 
thing seemed better than going on. 
It was indeed a terrible sea to work against, 
and a really savage gale was at its very height. 
However, the little ship went round like a top, 
pausing one moment for a vicious plunge when 
head to wind, and then filling on the port tack. 
We dropped the peak of the trysail—the fore¬ 
sail was long since stowed—and under third jib 
and half trysail we began our journey. Only 
two on board realized the vital issue involved 
in the question of whether or not she would lie 
Douglass Harbor without breaking tack. We 
were once more on the “safe” tack, and for a 
few minutes our anxiety was great. Not three 
hundred yards away lay the shore on our lee; 
the cliffs were sheer, their base composed of 
ragged crags and caves, amid which the surf 
thundered continuously. The sea was running 
fearfully high, and every instant we met a 
comber which broke as it neared us, and meet¬ 
ing our weather bow with its broken crest, sent 
a deluge of spray far over our trysail. The tide, 
too, was running strong against us, and the 
whole question now was whether she would lay 
high enough to keep it on the lee bow. 
We were not kept long in suspense on this 
point. The grand little ship went out over the 
sea in magnificent style. It was amazing to look 
out to leeward and mark how rapidly we passed 
each cliff. In smooth water under our present 
sail we might have been down to our sheer 
plank, but in that veritable vortex it was im¬ 
possible to say. Every now and then the fore¬ 
sail would break adrift from its lashings, and go 
over the lee bow. To secure it was a matter of 
extreme danger, nevertheless the crew (by 
which is meant one man) twice effected this, 
but in the end gave it up as a bad job, and 
merely hauled taut the weather sheet. We just 
succeeded in keeping the tide on the lee bow, 
and had the satisfaction of seeing Douglas gradu¬ 
ally open up, while all the time we struggled on 
in a perfect deluge of spray. Just as we eased 
off for the harbor mouth we saw a small yacht 
running in for the same haven. She proved to 
be our consort .of the night before, and her 
canvas was a close-reefed trysail and foresail. 
She must have been about an hour and a half 
behind us when we first sighted Douglas Head, 
-"id probably altered her course at the same 
timp as we did. 
The weather had cleared now, but as we 
thankfully let go our anchor in the harbor the 
gale still whistled as loudlv as ever in the rig¬ 
ging of the various craft, and the surf on the 
rocks outside raged as fiercely as before. Not 
