Yachting, Vol. 1

The yachtsman who is inexperienced, or much out of practice in the management of a boat, had far better take a sailor or a couple of sailors with him. By observing what they do he will learn or remember how to do things properly, and the tiro will pick up in a day or two, from watching an expert, many things that he would take long to learn for himself. Indeed, I think that in dangerous weather it is always as well to have a seaman on board. He will be unnecessary, probably, if nothing happens—that is to say, if nothing carries away or gets jammed; but it is just on such days that things do happen, and it is in such emergencies that the difference between a sailor and an ordinary amateur becomes widest. A good sailor has some resource for almost everything that can happen, and if one thing will not do he tries something else. Even if the amateur is as quick to know what should be done, he is usually far slower and more clumsy in the doing of it. Suppose, to take a very simple instance, the peak halliards carry away. How many amateurs are there who could make a long splice and re-reeve them with reasonable expedition? In a tumble of a sea, with a lee shore imminent, the mere reeving of them, if no splice is required, will very likely bother him considerably.

Still no one will ever be a passable boat-sailer, or will ever enjoy boat-sailing as it can be enjoyed, until he learns to dispense with professional assistance and to manage his boat single-handed if necessary. So, when he has learnt with his eyes, as far as a man can, how things should be done, other than steering and giving orders, let him go out alone or with an amateur like himself and learn his business. Let him choose a fine day and sail away if possible out of sight of the most powerful glasses on his ship, and then deliberately and of set purpose practise everything essential that is comprised in the art of boat-sailing. He will instantly discover that between knowing how things are done and doing them there is an extraordinary difference, and he will find himself curiously awkward in doing what he has seen his men do a hundred times. He will make acquaintance with the malign tendency of all ropes to get foul of each other, and the strange law that whenever you are trying to put something right on a boat something else always goes wrong. When he first tries to reef his sails—he will do it at anchor if he is wise—he will find that the foretack is horribly inconvenient to get at, and that the foresail will keep running up the stay and muffling his head, while the main-boom seems to be possessed by a devil and tries to push him overboard whichever side of it he gets. When he gets under way again he finds that he has got the anchor-line foul of the foresheets, and while he is clearing these and re-reeving them through their fairleads, a puff of wind knocks the boat nearly flat and sends him scrambling aft to the tiller and the mainsheet. He will bruise his shins and bark his knuckles all manner of ways—he hardly knows how; he will get hot and blown, and go near to tumbling overboard in the violence of his exertions; he will do things and he will forget to do things that it will make him blush in bed to remember afterwards. But let him not feel too deeply humiliated. For even experienced sailors will make the most monstrous blunders in a boat when they are strange to her, and to boatwork; and he will find that his awkwardness seems to vanish miraculously after a few lessons, and it will not be long before he has the satisfaction of feeling that he can handle his boat as well as any man on the ship.

It is foolish to go far, and especially far to leeward, when there is every appearance of bad weather coming on, and a low glass. You may do it many times with impunity, but some day you are sure to get caught, and the consequences may be serious. Remember that you are always liable to meet with an amount of wind that your boat will not be able to bear under the shortest canvas that you can work her with. Many people do not realise this; and indeed it requires some powers of imagination, when a boat is standing stiffly up under her full canvas in a good breeze, to realise that in a few hours, or even minutes, there may come an amount of wind which will make it impossible to keep her lee-rail out of the water even with close-reefed sails and sheets flying loose. But a few rough and unpleasant experiences will soon convince the young boat-sailer of the fact, and teach him that a boat has no business to be out in a gale of wind, and that when he is caught in one the thing to do, if it is possible, is to gain shelter at once. If he sails much he will come across plenty of bad weather without courting it, and when he does he will probably meet it with more coolness and confidence if he is free from the depressing sensation that the scrape into which he has got himself, and perhaps others as well, is entirely due to his own wanton folly.

It is always best, if possible, to reef down and make everything snug before the squall or storm comes upon you; but you cannot be continually reefing down for every threatening cloud, so this is not always practicable. When the wind has become too strong for the sail you are carrying, you will have to act according to circumstances. It is not always wise to attempt to reef at once. There may not be sea-room enough to lower down the sails to reef them, and to attempt to reef a cutter's mainsail in a squall when she is nearly overpowered by wind is extremely dangerous. For the sheet must be hauled right in, and cannot be eased while the earing is being made fast. It is better under such circumstances to lower your peak altogether, taking up any slack in the topping-lift so as to support the boom. This will ease the boat immensely, and gives you a capital leg-of-mutton sail. Possibly this will be a sufficient reduction, and you may stand on under this canvas until you get shelter, or sea-room to reef in, or there comes a lull in the squall. If it is not, and the boat is still overpowered, haul down the foresail as well and double reef it, and when it is set again you can, if you have then got sea-room, take down the reefs in your mainsail, keeping the peak down all the time.

There are generally three reefs in a cutter's mainsail. If when these are taken down you have still too much canvas, let the throat run down, and lash the jaws of the gaff down to the boom. It is well to have a line of reef points running from the throat of the mainsail to the cringle of the third reef on the after-leach to make this arrangement snug. It is then called a balance reef.

Most boats will stand rather more wind when it is on the beam than they will when they are close hauled. For while they do not feel it quite so hard, it is easier to keep good way on, and you can spill the sails by slacking the sheets as much as you like without fear of losing it. So that in smooth water you will be as safe in a blow with the wind abeam as you are when sailing close to it and luffing up into the puffs. But a beam sea is the most dangerous sea of all, and when it is heavy you must always be ready either to luff up towards it, or to keep right away before it, as may be best. But if you do the former be careful not to have too much way on, or you will run your boat's nose right into the sea. If your course gives you a dangerous beam sea the best plan is to keep your luff until your port is well to leeward, and then up helm and run for it.

In running before a strong wind and a dangerous sea do not attempt to carry much sail. It is a common belief among the inexperienced, founded upon nautical literature absorbed in youth, and even amongst some who ought to know better, that you must carry plenty of sail in order to run away from the sea and avoid being pooped. But, in the first place, you cannot run away from the sea, which travels more than twice as fast as any boat can sail, and a press of canvas which buries the boat's stern as it drags her through the water increases the danger of being pooped. Moreover, it makes her harder to steer, and increases the much greater risks of broaching to or running the boat under water in those desperate rushes on the steep front of the big seas, which are at once the danger and the delight of running before a wind. So far from its being desirable to emulate the pace of the sea, the sooner the wave passes the boat, and the shorter, therefore, these rushes are, the less is the danger.

I learned this once by experience. Many years ago, on the coast of New Zealand, I was caught out at sea by a gale of wind in a 13-ft. sailing dinghy, and had to run home before it in a short, dangerous, rapidly rising sea. The little boat tore before the wind under a reefed mainsail and jib, running her nose and stern alternately level with the water, until it became evident that we should be swamped in a few minutes. I ordered the man who was with me to haul down the sail. The moment he did so the little boat, which was sharp at both ends and was steered with an oar, began to ride the seas like a duck, and we ran home before the gale with ease and safety under a bare stick and a fragment of head-sail.

A boat with a sharp stern, steered with an oar, has a great advantage under such circumstances. For the rudder is sometimes right out of the water and useless; and though the water of a great wave does not really move forward with the wave as it appears to do, the breaking top of it does, and when the rudder is in this water, which is going faster than the boat, it is useless for the moment. It is well to have a place for a crutch in the gunwale far aft, so that an oar can be used to steer with if necessary.

There is generally less wind under the shelter or lee of the land. But this is not always the case, and the most experienced seaman cannot always foretell whether this will be so or not. Sometimes the wind seems to belong to the land, and there may be little or none of it out at sea. Under high land—cliffs or mountains—you may lose the wind altogether; you may find it blowing in occasional baffling puffs of great violence and uncertain direction, or you may find it blowing much harder, not in puffs merely but altogether. It is not an uncommon experience, especially in the Mediterranean, to run down a coast before a fresh breeze, and to find a perfect tornado blowing when you turn a corner and luff up under the land. This is one of nature's paradoxes—one of the undoubted facts that one occasionally meets which seem opposed to all reason and probability. I do not know how far it has ever been scientifically explained.

Some places where there is high land seem to brew their own wind. Loch Scavaig, in Skye, under the Coolin hills, is an instance of this. It may be fine and almost calm outside, but as you sail into its gloomy waters you may find a perfect tempest blowing in or out. It staggers one to think what it must be like in a real gale of wind.

In Carlingford Lough, Ireland, last autumn, when there was but a fine-weather breeze blowing outside, the puffs off the mountain on the south of the lough took the form of a succession of regular waterspouts, any one of which would have twisted the mast out of the boat or capsized her if it had struck her. We kept as far to leeward as we could, and most of them died away before they crossed our track, but they felt very uncanny.

Speaking generally, high land is always dangerous for boat-sailing, as well as trying to the temper. On a day when there is nothing but a fine-weather breeze elsewhere, under high land you are liable to get puffs as violent while they last as a gale of wind. It is as though the hills bottled up and concentrated the wind, so that when it is let loose it comes with double force; and these puffs are specially dangerous to a boat apart from their force: first, because the angle at which they will strike is so uncertain, and secondly, because, coming from above and striking downwards, a boat does not relieve the pressure on her sails by heeling over as she does when the wind blows horizontally along the water. This is the reason why you will probably find that the squalls that go nearest capsizing your boat are not those that you have seen tearing towards you turning the water into smoke as they come, violent as these may be, but those which you have hardly seen a sign of on the water at all, and which strike the sails with a downward blow straight from the mountain side. The Sound of Raasay, outside Portree Harbour, when a westerly wind is blowing over the tremendous cliffs of Skye, is a fine place for the study of these phenomena.

When the wind is blowing up or down a channel with high land on either hand, the fiercest puffs will be near the sides which seem to concentrate the wind, and the safest place will be the middle of the channel. One day, in Loch Scavaig, beating out of that inferno of furious winds against the usual succession of tearing puffs, with double-reefed sails and all passengers down in the bottom of the boat, I stood rather far over one tack under the high mountain on the west side. Just as I was preparing to go about a furious blast struck the boat like a cannon-shot. I thrust the helm down, letting fly the mainsheet. The foresheet fortunately carried away of itself, but for a few seconds a volume of water poured over the rail, and I thought we should go over or fill. A minute later, as we were standing off on the other tack, setting things to rights and pruning our ruffled plumes, my coxswain, a most excellent boat-sailer but a man of a somewhat sardonic humour, remarked grimly, 'I should think that would be a lesson to you in future not to stand over too far under high land.' It has been.

Here follow a few of the things which it is well to remember when boat-sailing, whether you are acting as captain or crew, or both in one.

As soon as your sails are set and properly trimmed, coil away the ends of all your halliards, topping-lift, &c., in the bottom of the boat, capsizing the coil after you have made it so that the part of the rope that has to go up first becomes uppermost, and so will not get foul when the halliards are let go.

See that all your blocks are clear. A reef pendant (earing) getting drawn into the mainsheet block, or a bit of bunting or spunyarn into the block of the peak halliards, may easily cause an accident.

Always see that your mainsheet is clear, and that it cannot get foul of anything in running out. The most favoured lady passenger should not be allowed to put her feet on it.

When you have passengers on board in dangerous, squally weather, try to get them to sit down in the bottom of the boat. It adds greatly to stability, besides getting them out of the way. But if there is much water in the boat already, they may require some persuasion.

Always carry an anchor or grapple and a line to attach to it, and see that both are ready for instant use if you are likely to want them. The anchor for a 25-ft. boat should weigh about 30 lbs. If it is heavier it will tax your wind severely to get it up quickly in deep water.

Always carry some water and biscuits when you may be out many hours.

Always have the centreboard down in coming alongside a ship. The boat will answer her helm better and steer more accurately with the centreboard down, as the wind and sea cannot push her about on the surface.

If it is ever necessary to leave your boat untended, take great care that she can neither damage herself nor get adrift when the tide rises. Nothing will make you feel so intolerably foolish as to come back and find your boat damaged or gone, perhaps still in sight bobbing away without you. The writer was once left stranded on a small island in the Hauraki Gulf, New Zealand, owing to his man having considered a round stone a suitable object to make a boat fast to.

Finally, never 'moon,' or think about such things as politics, philosophy, or people, when boat-sailing. Frivolous conversation on subjects unconnected with the boat or the weather should be sternly discouraged in any but the most familiar waters and the finest of weather. Distraction is a real danger in boat-sailing, and is probably the commonest cause of fatal accidents. The attention of the boat-sailer should always be concentrated on his business. He has plenty to attend to and think about. He must always have an eye on his sails, and at the same time must keep watching the wind on the water before it reaches him, and the general appearance of the weather. And in spite of these preoccupations he should be continually noting the features of the coast. If he is leaving a place to which he is going to return, he should be constantly taking note of the relative bearings of rocks and headlands by which to remember the proper channel when he comes back, not forgetting that the state of the tide will be different, and carefully observing, therefore, if the tide is low, the position of rocks and shoals that may be submerged on his return, or if it is near high water, the bearing of places which his chart tells him will have to be avoided when the tide is out. In short, it is an engrossing occupation, permitting of no distraction, except perhaps fish, and even then one man must continue to give his attention almost entirely to the boat. There is a time for all things, and the man who wants to talk or to read his book in the boat has no business there. Shelley used to read, it is true, and he was an ardent boat-sailer. But Shelley's case is a bad one to quote as an example, for his boat-sailing came to an unlucky end, and we shall never know now how much or how little that little volume of poetry had to do with it.

I have said a good deal in these pages of the dangers of boat-sailing. It has been necessary to insist upon them, because the price of safety in boat-sailing is eternal vigilance and a little knowledge. The careless man may drown himself any day, and there is no saying what mess the complete duffer may not get into. But given the habit of carefulness, which soon becomes instinctive and unconscious, together with a little experience, and a moderate amount of prudence as regards weather, and boat-sailing is certainly not a dangerous sport as sports go.

CHAPTER IX

Curiously enough, the advantages of the Solent for yachting have only been fully appreciated during the past few years. It is true that the Royal Yacht Squadron was started early in the century, and the Royal Southern and Royal Victoria Yacht Clubs early in the forties; but yachting on the Solent as we know it now was not dreamt of, and the Thames held for many years the leading position as the centre of this essentially English sport.

Many things have combined to drive yachts from the Thames. Manure, marmalade, cement, gas, and other manufactories now line its banks; the Barking outfall fouls its waters, and an enormous steamer and barge traffic obstructs them. No wonder the yachtsmen deserted the Thames. But this is not all; a new sport has been born—the racing of small yachts, for which the Thames is peculiarly unsuited. Steam yachting has caused this development of small yacht racing. Men who would otherwise have built or purchased large sailing yachts now prefer steam, and, although they may themselves race but little in any craft, their action has destroyed our fleet of large sailing yachts, and with it the market for outclassed racers of any considerable size. Moreover, the very perfection to which racing has been brought tells in the same direction, because few men can afford to build large racers year by year to replace those which are outclassed. Yacht clubs have increased both in numbers and wealth, and the executives find that racing brings grist to the mill and repays the cost and the trouble. This especially applies to small yacht races, the prizes for which are not a severe tax on a club's exchequer, and can therefore be given more frequently.

Owners were not slow to avail themselves of the sport offered, which on trial proved to possess many advantages over large yacht racing.

In small craft an owner is more his own master, and frequently steers and sails his own boat. Corinthian hands can form all or a large portion of the crew; ladies can take an active part; the sport is less costly and better fun than with large craft; there are more races; fouls and accidents are less dangerous; and people can get home to dinner.

In short, the advantages are so numerous and real that one marvels at any men preferring to act as passengers on board their own yachts in the more ancient sport. Even this adjective belongs really to the boats, as prehistoric men no doubt owned and raced canoes for ages prior to the existence of larger vessels. But we as moderns are concerned with the nineteenth century, during which sailing boats have certainly raced frequently on the Solent. The square stem and stern boat used by the Itchen ferrymen for fishing in Southampton Water and the E. and W. channels is still a favourite type, and during the seventies became almost a class for small yacht racing, inside lead ballast, moulded, being first introduced, then lead keels, until in 1878 heavy lead keels, with fore and aft overhang, became the fashion with racing owners, and the Solent 'Length Classes' were introduced to the yachting world; 21 feet, 25 feet, and 30 feet L.W.L. being the top limits of each class.

A scale of time allowance for length was made by the Y.R.A., and the boats developed into great 'brutes' which were efficient sail-carriers if nothing else, the final outcome being over 70 square feet of canvas to each foot of L.W.L., whereas a modern rater in the small classes is driven almost as effectively with 20 square feet per foot of similar hull length.

There being no limit to sail in the length classes, it was not a difficult matter to outbuild the crack boat of the year every winter. Each succeeding boat had longer overhang, greater beam, draught, and displacement than her predecessor, and consequently won, being a larger boat and carrying more sail. The table of Solent racers prior to 1886, appended to this chapter, gives some details of interest.

A few races were given every year for what was termed the 27-ft. class ('Sorella,' 'Whimbrel,' &c.), also for Itchen punts and for fishermen's boats; and, early in the eighties, races under various conditions were provided for small yachts by the Royal Southampton and Royal Portsmouth Corinthian Yacht Clubs, under the energetic direction of their respective Honorary Secretaries, Mr. Wolff and the late Mr. McCheane. These clubs may fairly claim to have started that small yacht racing on the Solent which now employs so many hands in building boats in the winter and sailing them in the summer, and affords so many people a healthy pastime for their leisure hours. The rest of the Solent clubs were not long in following suit, first one then another giving races for small yachts, until in 1891 'The Squadron' so far forgot the distich:

Nothing less than 30 T
Must ever race with our Burgee,

as to permit two 'extra' races for 5- and 2½-raters, the prizes having been subscribed for 'privately' by some sporting members of this distinguished club. The same recurred in 1892 and 1893, but it is impossible to feel overwhelmed with gratitude, as the manner of granting the concession was too like that of an old lady introduced sorely against her will to people and things she deems infra dig.

On the other hand, the Royal Victoria, or the 'Red Squadron,' as its friends delight to call it, has since 1890 taken to the sport with becoming enthusiasm, the committee being said to possess more knowledge of the requirements of yacht racing than the Y.R.A. itself. This has produced some strange realities which the racing owner may see for himself at Ryde, in the shape of drums, time-post and semaphores galore, together with a 500-guinea cup and other remarkable 'Gold cups in waiting,' if he step ashore and can make friends with the good-natured secretary. The club gave several special days in 1892 and 1893 for matches in the Solent classes, and the Royal Albert did the same at Southsea, in addition to similar races at their annual regatta—a two days' affair. The Royal London and the Royal Southern Yacht Clubs followed suit. In short, these elderly dames of the Solent are acting in a very proper spirit by adopting and assisting to support the offspring of their younger relatives, requiring them simply to belong to something 'Royal or Recognised'—a peculiar distinction somewhat rough on the former word.

One caution to the unwary. Some of the senior clubs are very proud of their ordnance, but racing boats of modern construction should give them a clear berth, or the concussion may cause damage. One of the cracks had to proceed to the builder's for repair soon after a race at which that great artillerist the hall porter of the Royal London Yacht Club shook Cowes to its foundations. Certain it is that some racing boats are now built far too light for safety if caught in a gale on the open sea.

Returning to the clubs, the table at the end of the chapter gives some prominent facts at a glance, so it will not be necessary to repeat them.

An aspirant to fame in any of the small classes should belong to the Royal Southampton Yacht Club. It has plenty of members, of vitality, and 'go.' Its house is good and comfortable, with a fair cuisine and attendance, and its position is excellent for the racing sailor-man. The fees are not heavy,[7] and the sport is good.

The beginner will do well to make the acquaintance of the leading members of the committee, for their sound advice and local knowledge may be of service to him; but he may be cautioned not to disturb them after the racing with written memoranda about rounding buoys; the soul of man is not to be worried by such frivolities when absorbed in the worship of crab, tap, or Nap in the cosy cabin of the Committee-boat—and this applies with more or less force to all sailing committees and club secretaries. Some shrug the shoulder and vent an expletive, the more pious sigh deeply and glance to the zenith, while many impose a heavy fine on that enemy of peace and quiet who dares to protest against a breach of the regulations. An exception, however, is said to prove a rule; and the committee of the Castle Yacht Club administers the law with strictness, and perhaps severity. If this policy were general, many of the difficulties connected with yacht racing would disappear, as a large percentage is due to irregularities which sailing committees might easily correct, instead of scanning them with a blind eye at the telescope end. Real sportsmen like rules to be strictly observed and administered, and the discipline enforced at the Calshot racing has, if possible, increased the popularity of the club which was started in 1887 by some eccentric enthusiasts who considered that small yacht racing required further encouragement. At that date the idea was not so preposterous as it now appears; but whether this and other clubs assisted materially in the production of modern racing, or were themselves the products, is a problem for the Macaulay of sport to solve in the dim future, when he writes on the pursuit of pleasure in the nineteenth century.

The adoption of the present Y.R.A. rating rule in the winter of 1886 practically killed the 'Length' classes; for, although the Solent clubs continued to support them for another year, no more 'lengthers' were built, and, the existing boats gradually dropping out, the racing with 'footers' collapsed.

The year 1887 was a turning point in small yacht racing on the Solent, as elsewhere.

There was much diversity of opinion as to the suitability of the new rule for small yachts. Mr. Clayton declared in January that 2½-raters would soon be 29 or 30 feet long. Mr. Dixon Kemp, on the other hand, so late as 1881, when the sixth edition of his book was published, gave 'the lengths of water-line ... possible in the classes ... as follows':—

This forecast erred in the three smallest classes, where prophetic utterances, if only for six months, are extremely hazardous. The fact gives additional piquancy to small yacht racing.

The Solent clubs most interested in this racing began the year 1887 with a conference on January 28 at Southampton, and another on February 2 at Portsmouth, when it was finally agreed to recommend:—

SPECIAL RACING, 1887

Two new boats were built for class (a), Miss Cox's 'Madcap' and Colonel Bucknill's 'Thalassa' (see table). They were well matched, the rig being the same, viz. sloop with a small topsail of about 80 square feet. They were capital 'day boats,' with roomy wells, and fairly good performers in a sea-way. At first 'Madcap' proved the faster, but towards the end of the season 'Thalassa' won most prizes, and captured the class medal of the R.S.Y.C.

Mr. Campbell's 'Merrythought' was the only new boat in class (b), but she failed to beat 'Tootsie' (afterwards named 'Minnow'), which belonged to Mr. Payne, and was altered to fit the class. On the whole, the racing in the new classes was somewhat disappointing, owing to the small number of competitors and of races. See the following table, which also includes the races for the 'Solent Classes' in 1888 and 1892, and shows the great development of the sport during the past five years.

The actual races only are recorded, as clubs deserve but little credit for offering prizes hedged in by such conditions that owners will not compete for them.

Races in the Solent Classes

CLASS RACING, 1888.

Early in 1888, delegates from several of the Solent clubs met at the house of the Royal Southampton, to settle the difficult question of the classes of small racing yachts to be encouraged on the Solent, it having become clear that racing under a rating of length alone was played out.

The Y.R.A. recommended that 10-, 5-, and 2½-rating, by the new formula L. × S.A. ÷ 6,000, should be encouraged as the small classes, but the Scotch and Irish clubs favoured 6- and 3-raters as better suiting their 3-tonners, which had been produced under the 1730 rule, and were about 6-rating. After a lively correspondence in the 'Field,' in which the Editor steered a middle course between the Southern buoys and the Northern shallows, the conference at Southampton decided to adopt the classes recommended by the Y.R.A., and there has been no cause to regret this decision.

10-, 5-, and 2½-raters consequently became known as the 'Solent Classes,' and the limits on S.A. in mainsail and on L.O.A. were quashed, no objection being raised by vested interests.

The 10-Raters, 1888.

The 10 class racing this year mainly consisted of a duel between Mr. Clarke's new 10, the 'Dis,' and Mr. Arabin's 6½-rater, the 'Lollypop,' built for cruising, but a very fast and capable boat (see table opposite).

The lengthers 'Verena' and 'Frolic,' each about 7-rating, tried their luck on a few occasions, but they were soon proved to be outclassed under the rating rule. 'Little Nell,' 'Raven,' 'Ina,' and 'Jenny Wren' also competed. 'Dis' finished the season with the excellent figure of merit 52.2, and 'Lollypop' with 34.6. This figure of merit is found by the formula proposed by Colonel F. J. Smith, R.E., in 1890, viz.:

M = 100P ÷ (N + √N + 2)

where M is the figure of merit
N is the number of starts
P is the number of first prizes,

all referring to class races only. Colonel Smith subsequently elaborated the formula by allowing points for sails over, and for second prizes when three boats started; but it is practically impossible to get such records with accuracy, and the resulting order of merit is the same whichever figure of merit be adopted. Hence it is best to employ the simplest formula in which first prizes alone count, as in the one just given, which will be adopted in these pages.

Further details of the 10-rater racing will be found in a tabulated form on p. 488 of 'Land and Water,' Oct. 20, 1888.

The 5-Raters, 1888.

Mr. L. M. Ames attempted to start the 5-rating class by building 'Fair Geraldine' (see table of dimensions), but the class received but little encouragement from the clubs this year, and there were very few purely class races. The 'Flutterby,' 4-rater, designed by her owner, Mr. Fred. Hughes, Mr. Farmer's 'Chittywee,' and Mr. Newton-Robinson's 'Rose' were the only competitors available.

The 2½-Raters, 1888.

Mr. Waller's 'Lady Nan,' Mr. Manning's 'Ada,' and the late Mr. Sidney Watson's 'Chipmunk' were the new boats in this class, the first named being a great success at a moderate cost, the usual oak timbers, bent ash frames, and pine planking being used in her construction. Her lines are given in Mr. Dixon Kemp's 'Yacht Architecture,' second edition. 'Madcap,' her chief opponent, had been slightly lengthened during the winter, and a counter added; thus improved, she was able to turn the tables on 'Thalassa' (see following table).

Racing Records, 1888.

The feature this year was the birth of the heavy lead fin-keel. Mr. Payne tried it in 'Lady Nan,' and Captain Hughes had a similar keel placed on 'Fairy,' thereby improving both her speed and power.

Another excitement was caused by Mr. Simpson very gamely sailing his 'Tottie' (4.5 feet beam) round from the Thames, so as to try the Solent 2½-raters. 'Tottie' was designed by Mr. G. L. Watson for a special class, 21 feet L.W.L. and 500 S.A. She won easily in this class on the Thames, but only scored on the Solent in light weather, and soon found it expedient to return to her muddy headquarters. 'Minnow' also won a few prizes in light weather by means of her time allowance; but 'Chipmunk' 12 starts, 'Ada' 4, 'Titu' 2, and 'Cormorant' 1 start, failed to score for their figure of merit.

The season's racing was good, and the class evidently established itself in public favour. The Castle Club, then at Hamble, gave a number of races for the class, and several members of the club agreed to build 2½-raters for the coming season.

For the results see the record table for 1888 (p. 231).

CLASS RACING, 1889

The 10-Raters, 1889.

The owner of 'Lollypop' being encouraged by her performances in 1888, commissioned Mr. Arthur Payne to design a racing 10-rater; whence it came about that the swift and handsome 'Decima' was launched from the Belvidere yard in the following spring. She was a few inches shorter than 'Dis,' but in every other respect a more powerful boat—more beam, draught, and displacement, also a larger mainsail.

The 'Drina' was built at Cowes about the same time, but she was designed simply as a 32-ft. L.W.L. day boat, and her owner, Prince Batthyany Strattmann, only decided to race her when she was already in frame. The lead keel was then dropped 1.8 foot and the sail increased 400, to 1,800 square feet. Unfortunately for 'Drina' it was a windy summer.

Mr. Ratsey tuned up his fine square-sterned yacht 'Dolly Varden' with a lovely suit of sails. Captain Montagu lengthened 'Lil' and converted her into the 9-rater 'Nety'; and Mr. Clarke brought out 'Dis' from her padlocked abode and did all that he could to make her win—but in this he was disappointed, though when beaten he stuck to the fight as only a true sportsman can.

Towards the end of the season the attention of Clydesiders was drawn to 'Decima's' long string of successes, and the sporting owners of the old 'Doris' and the new 'Yvonne' sailed them round to do battle in the Solent lists.

Racing Records, 1889.

'Yvonne,' designed by the famous son of Fife, was narrower and shorter than 'Decima,' and had 45 square feet more sail, which placed her in the van in light weather. But 'Decima' beat her five times in eight starts, and beat 'Doris' eleven times in fourteen starts.

The results for the season are given in the record table.

It was a red-letter year for the 10's on the Solent, nothing like it having occurred either before or since.

The 5-Raters, 1889.

Energy in one class is often accompanied by stagnation in another, and the 5's were certainly slow enough during 1889 to satisfy the most exacting Puritan.