
Nov. 16, 1907.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
783 


Story of the Ocean Race. 
A NEW book bound in blue cloth, with out- 
lines of schooners passing across the cover and 
in. neat gold letters, “The Race For the Em- 
peror’s Cup,” at the top with the name Paul Eve 
Stevenson. below, has just arrived at the Forest 
AND STREAM office. Anyone who has read the 
previous works of this author can hear the roar 
of the wind, see the ever-changing colors of the 
sea, and know that all the pleasures of another 
“spell” at sea awaits them even before they open 
the book. Handsome photographic reproductions 
of all the yachts that raced across the Atlantic 
in May, 1905, charts showing each boat’s position 
from day to day, and copies of each yacht’s log 
are but after thoughts good to preserve as facts, 
but the real charm lies in the author’s account 
of how the little racing yacht Aika, flush-decked 
and with a lead mine slung on her keel, was 
driven across to England. There were fair spells 
of weather, hard wholesail breezes, and a gale 
that finally made them heave-to, all told as only 
Mr. Stevenson can describe them. 
One day as he says, “The sky is only exceeded 
in beauty by: the cerulean sea, for we are off 
sounding now, and the color of the ocean holds 
the marvelous blue that it assumes only when 
the floor sinks to the graver depths of the open 
sea. The water seems to be full of bluing, .with 
the transparency of plate glass. This morning, 
during a light, smooth spell the rudder pintles 
showed as plainly as through air at ten feet 
below the surface.” 
If you have been to sea, how vividly his descrip- 
tion brings back similar sights to one’s memory. It 
might have been a shark or a bonito, but that 
transparent blue is a color unmatched ashore 
but never forgotten. There were three ‘“passen- 
gers’’on Aika. The owner, the author and the 
artist. No doubt the latter caught.some sketches 
of the author with his brush or pencil, but we 
doubt if he could with as few marks portray 
character and conditions as is done in one para- 
graph in the book. . 
“The artist, master of tints and shades, with 





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his paints and his brushes and his dazzling 
palettes, is living the time of his existence. I 
never knew the ocean before. I never saw the 
sea till the last few days,’ he rhapsodizes. “The 
colors of it all. Oh! the colors of the belly of 
a sea as it curls. It drives you mad because 
you have never seen how to paint deep salt 
water till after you have found out how little 
you have known all these years.’ And he 
whelms down his pigments on paper and canvas, 
sketch and fragment chasing each other like 
clouds jn the sky. 
He never wearies. Now with pencil to snatch 
the pose of a sailor heaving on a halliard or 
sheet, now the watercolors to catch the shadows 
on the sea, now he appears with the oils for the 
sunset flames and afterglow, till his energy fires 
the ardors of the very winds of heaven and a 
sudden puff oversets easel and tubes into the 
scuppers. 
Then just glance at Aika a little later, “and 
when we had clawed up on deck again from the 
dense air and sooty lamps of the saloon, the 
sun was beaming in a blue sky, and we won- 
dered where were the sources of this mighty 
wind. The heavens hung stainless above us, but 
the sun gazed down on a scene of primal chaos, 
and on twenty-eight humans reeling along in a 
racing machine like a leaf in a squall.” 
That was when Aika was being hard driven 
preparatory to heaving-to. She rode like a duck 
when brought up by the wind under trysail. 
“And when a big Hamburg expressman surged 
by at 3 o'clock, half a mile away, we seemed to 
be making better weather of it than the liner. 
Indeed, she sank out of sight to her funnels 
sometimes. We presented her with an undoubted 
novel spectacle—a racing machine hove-to in 
mid ocean—and she appeared to appreciate it, for 
her rails were crowded with passengers with 
cameras, waving hats and shawls, and no doubt 
cheering, though the roar of the gale drowned 
their most valiant efforts.” 
After taking one with him across the ocean 
Mr. Stevenson does not leave one there alone, 
but like a good host takes one with him in the 

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SAIL PLAN OF PUP. 
and does not let one go until 
a week at Kiel with him. 
It is yachting for which we might be thank- 
ful—even if we cannot get wet—just to read 
about. The Rudder Publishing Co. have just 
put the book on the market. 
Heligoland race 
they have spent 

Bilge Board Sloop Pup. 
Douse bilge boards are generally connected in 
one’s mimd with freak shaped hulls, rule cheaters, 
etc. There is nothing at all freakish, however, 
about Pup, a new boat on the Great South Bay, 
whose plans we publish this week. 
Mr. C. D. Mower drew up the plans for Mr. 
John R. Suydam, who hired boat builders and 
built the boat himself at Bayport, L. I. 
She did not race in any of the regattas, as 
she was only completed and launched late this 
fall,, but on her trial spins with her designer 

SIDE VIEW OF PUP, 

BOW 
VIEW OF PUP. 
aboard she behaved splendidly, carrying her sail 
well and pointing up high when brought by the 
wind. At running and reaching naturally she is 
a witch, as the hull only draw§ ten inches. Her 
dimensions are: 
Length— 
Over all SRO ae ee SaQlits ei Oiiis 
WEY TSclliinQs ath 0 Lome. on decane A I8ft. o1n. 
Overhang— 
EM OT Wall don eden erect tether cca s iste vet, Otis 
Aft 6ft. 3in, 
ean ds >? Hames ods scene wnticlen ibe oh aacite Sea OLC POLES 
ratte. Mill Moly vn ac idcetels Meese ere ocak Toin. 
GASts TreebOat dianaeni cigs cee Gato okie ec LL Cae SLE 
Area— 
Mian Sait i eee pets oc oe rn Sette ae 404 sq. ft. 
JA eee AS wih eaten ee es Pita ee ache 8o sq. ft. 

Tue death occurred in Washington, D. C., on 
Nov. 6, of Capt. George Theodore di Zerega, 
son of the late. Augustus di Zerega, who 
operated a line of vessels, known as the Red 
Z Line, between New York and Liverpool be- 
foré the Civil War. Capt. Zerega was master of 
one of his father’s ships in early life and was 
later a well-known yachtsman. He was 77 years 
of age. 

