Thursday, December 19, 2019
Friday, November 22, 2019
1923 - Racing Put-Puts - A New Thriller
Just a note on the author, Judge Aaron B. Cohn found in a 1935 Popular Mechanics article on the history of outboard racing -
I HEARD a yachtsman say, “I have sailed sloops, schooners, yawls and eat boats, and have raced in power boats, but never have I felt the thrill that I have in a race with the put-puts.
In the presence of about 700 people, the writer who was an official and not competing that year, asked the owner of the “Y” engine if his machine was 2 horsepower, and if he had rebored his cylinder. He answered that it was rated as a 2 horsepower, and he had not touched his cylinder. He was thereupon awarded first prize. But the incident still lingered in the minds of the entrants and the next year, when another and new "Y" engine appeared, it provoked intense discussion about fair competition, and resulted in an attempt at handicapping "Y" engines and twins.
Labor day, 1920, was the high peak so far as entries were concerned. Note the evolution from a handful of entries to the grand total of 68 on Labor Day of 1920. Silver cups and pennants for first, second, third and in addition thirty-five money prizes of $35.00 for first in addition to the Cup, and graduated down to $2.00 for the thirty-fifth. Five-pound boxes of candy to every woman in a boat raced only by women. Several hundred dollars was subscribed by the people of Stops 42, 43, 44, and 45. Much publicity in the daily papers, and a film of 500 feet taken of the aquatic events, put-put races, diving and swimming. Sixty-eight put-puts churning up old Lake Erie certainly was a thriller. We were informed by outboard engine companies that that event was the biggest of its kind in the history of the put-puts.
However, up to this time the put-put races were like big family parties, racing the old family horse and buggy. 1921 saw the construction of speed row boats of % inch and 5/16 inch stock, bottom boards running lengthwise. Several of these owners of the new boats bought new engines for 1921. Note the evolution. It was thought best to have four prize races instead of two, so a silver cup for each of the four races was offered.
The first race of 1921 demonstrated so unmistakably the speed of the combination of new boats and engines that one by one the balance of the sixty-eight of last year dropped out of competition until there remained only seven speed boats so called.
The falling off of entries due to the development of the speed boat and speed engine has led Toledo Beach Boat club to another necessary step in the evolution of the put-put, that of classification. It proved manifestly unfair, of course, to have heavy fishing boats compete with light especially designed speed boats.
To the uninitiated it seems absurd to speak of a speed row boat, or a speed put-put. You would have agreed, however, with the representatives of several out board engine companies had you witnessed with them the races at Stop 43, Toledo Beach, that—much may be done in the construction of a row boat and engine to accelerate speed.
The following are a few of the attempts to speed up the boat. Pot lead the bottom and sides, some grease it and others bronze the bottom. The enthusiast takes his boat out to dry for two or three days before each race. Splash boards preferably of light metal—extending at least five or six inches out from sides and extending from bow about two-thirds of the length. Some have installed a pump so that it can be handled by the man operating the boat. One has built in a rudder in the bow to assist in turning stakes effectively. The fastest boat of the 1922 season was a light eighteen footer.
Many experiments have also been made with fuel. The writer knows personally that Bensol, high test, high speed gas, and coalene, have all been used. Castor oil has been used instead of the mineral lubricating oil. Mothballs, ether, and many other so called stimulants to power have been added to the fuel. Some of the above have helped and some have brought only experience and regret.
Now we come to the engine. Some of the manufacturers would not recognize their own product. Many parts have been subtracted and many added. Changes can be made to most put-puts because they were not originally not designed for speed. However, the benefit of those who have pioneered , the writer refrains from revealing their pet changes. You will find them yourself as you put-put through a race or two.
Games and contests always provoke the best or worst in humans. No resort or regatta should book any put-put races without formulating rules. Just as the fathers of our Country found it necessary to create a fundamental law of the land at the outset, so likewise you must establish rules for these put-put races at the outset or you will have chaos, confusion, bitterness, individual and, therefore, conflicting interpretations of fair play, fair competition, etc.
The Toledo Beach Boat club has passed through all of those stages, and this year the writer submitted the following rules which were adopted and have governed the last two races and are operative for the coming season. They are offered to the field not as the best set of rules, but merely as an effort to help keep the put-put races clean, orderly and fair, and uniform.
By 1924, Judge Aaron B. Cohn, of Toledo, O., was causing a sensation at the Detroit Regatta of the American Power Boat Association by speeding around the course at twelve miles an hour with an outboard.
I believe that is true because I do all my own work in preparation and operate the put-put myself." This is the secret of the thrill—You do all the work and racing of the put-put.
No, a put-put is not a new parlor game, nor is it related to putting in golf. A put-put is an outboard engine, so named because put-put is the language it speaks. If it putters, you're out of luck, but if it put-puts with increasing power and frequency, then you have a winner. Right at the outset you ask where is the thrill in those darn little things. “I’ve always seen them advertised as being able to go so slowly and noiselessly that you could use them in trolling."
That may be true, but Oh, Boy, those ads surely are singing another tune now. Each ad is trying to find the nth degree superlative for—FAST—each ad in graphic word pictures tells of how its outboard engine took first, second and third with a field including all its competitors.
What’s the reason for the sudden change—the radical change? A change that has sent the Sales Manager panic stricken into the plant, to seek out the mechanical experts — and frantically demand that they create something faster (note here—the "er" is the first step in search for the nth degree superlative for fast) than the X engine which beat them at some regatta.
No, a put-put is not a new parlor game, nor is it related to putting in golf. A put-put is an outboard engine, so named because put-put is the language it speaks. If it putters, you're out of luck, but if it put-puts with increasing power and frequency, then you have a winner. Right at the outset you ask where is the thrill in those darn little things. “I’ve always seen them advertised as being able to go so slowly and noiselessly that you could use them in trolling."
That may be true, but Oh, Boy, those ads surely are singing another tune now. Each ad is trying to find the nth degree superlative for—FAST—each ad in graphic word pictures tells of how its outboard engine took first, second and third with a field including all its competitors.
What’s the reason for the sudden change—the radical change? A change that has sent the Sales Manager panic stricken into the plant, to seek out the mechanical experts — and frantically demand that they create something faster (note here—the "er" is the first step in search for the nth degree superlative for fast) than the X engine which beat them at some regatta.
But the beating didn't cause the hysterics of Sales Manager. Oh no, the X company's next ad in all the sport magazines read, “The fastest (Ah! in the "est" we have arrived at the base of all superlatives of fast) outboard engine on the lakes." Imagine the consternation in the A, B, C, D, and other competing companies. Advertising managers had to acquire a new set of phrases or give way.
Next followed what—a veritable revolution. Safety, comfort, slowness, durability, dependability, all had to give way to the twin infants Fast and Speed. There seems to be more truth than aptness in the use of the word twin - the outboard engine of tomorrow bids fair to be a twin cylinder - for the simple and obvious reason that a twin is faster, and is non-vibrating.
Next followed what—a veritable revolution. Safety, comfort, slowness, durability, dependability, all had to give way to the twin infants Fast and Speed. There seems to be more truth than aptness in the use of the word twin - the outboard engine of tomorrow bids fair to be a twin cylinder - for the simple and obvious reason that a twin is faster, and is non-vibrating.
The frantic efforts of the rival outboard company to produce the CHARLIE PADDOCK, the GAR WOOD, the MISS AMERICA, the MAN OF WAR of outboards is but a natural evolution of that engine, an evolution that is resistless as trying to stem Old Faithful by putting a dishpan over it.
Several larger regattas, including Peoria, Ill.; Madison, Wis.; Sandusky, Ohio; Houston, Texas; Put-in-Bay, Ohio; Detroit and many others, included the put-puts on their racing program, and next year no regatta will be complete without them. So the race is on, and the put-put will be heard throughout the land.
 |
| Judge Cohn (the author) at the wheel of his racer winning the Inter-Lake put-put championship at Put-in-Bay. |
A Fascinating Sport
Instinctively feeling the inevitable and certain popularity of the put-put races, everyone is asking, Why? The answer is get into one race, and you're gone. You immediately give your order for an "X" engine, and either buy or build a rowboat of some design, that you, or the builder, knows is the last word in speed. While you are doing that, however, others are doing the same thing, and as two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time, and likewise two boats cannot be first, the game is on.
Early Attempts at Racing
The history of put-puts at Stop 43, Toledo Beach is probably the same as at other summer resorts. However, as I will show, it may have been more highly developed.
As far back as 1914 a few races were held with a maximum of seven or eight entries. At that time only the heavy fishing boats and old style engines were used. For several years interest in the put-put races ceased. In 1919 it was again revived and two big races were scheduled, on on the Sunday before the Fourth of July and the other the Sunday before Labor Day. That year fishing boats and old engines were still used, and there were about twenty or more entries.
The Need for Uniform Rules
Next year, in 1920, the evolution started. Some of the competing boats had been specially designed and constructed during the winter. A "Y" engine that apparently created trouble, but in reality served as an important agent in the evolution. This particular engine had been used intermittently for seven years, and then retired to the woodshed, but resurrected for the race of 1920, and it finished in the lead. Its unmistakable superior speed caused considerable questioning on the part of all other entrants. The only requirements at that time were:
- Flat bottom boats, minimum length 14 feet.
- Single cylinder outboard engine.
- Standard 2 horsepower.
- No reboring of cylinder.
Real Sport in 1920
Labor day, 1920, was the high peak so far as entries were concerned. Note the evolution from a handful of entries to the grand total of 68 on Labor Day of 1920. Silver cups and pennants for first, second, third and in addition thirty-five money prizes of $35.00 for first in addition to the Cup, and graduated down to $2.00 for the thirty-fifth. Five-pound boxes of candy to every woman in a boat raced only by women. Several hundred dollars was subscribed by the people of Stops 42, 43, 44, and 45. Much publicity in the daily papers, and a film of 500 feet taken of the aquatic events, put-put races, diving and swimming. Sixty-eight put-puts churning up old Lake Erie certainly was a thriller. We were informed by outboard engine companies that that event was the biggest of its kind in the history of the put-puts.
A Change from Sport to Science
However, up to this time the put-put races were like big family parties, racing the old family horse and buggy. 1921 saw the construction of speed row boats of % inch and 5/16 inch stock, bottom boards running lengthwise. Several of these owners of the new boats bought new engines for 1921. Note the evolution. It was thought best to have four prize races instead of two, so a silver cup for each of the four races was offered.
The first race of 1921 demonstrated so unmistakably the speed of the combination of new boats and engines that one by one the balance of the sixty-eight of last year dropped out of competition until there remained only seven speed boats so called.
The falling off of entries due to the development of the speed boat and speed engine has led Toledo Beach Boat club to another necessary step in the evolution of the put-put, that of classification. It proved manifestly unfair, of course, to have heavy fishing boats compete with light especially designed speed boats.
To have twins and 3 horsepower engines compete with single cylinder engines is unequal competition. So classification has led to the establishment of three classes:
- Speed boats—flat bottoms,
- Fishing boats—flat bottoms,
- Free-for-all—Flat bottom, round bottom, or V-bottom twins, single cylinder, of any horsepower out board engine.
Class B immediately brought out 23 additional entries.
To the uninitiated it seems absurd to speak of a speed row boat, or a speed put-put. You would have agreed, however, with the representatives of several out board engine companies had you witnessed with them the races at Stop 43, Toledo Beach, that—much may be done in the construction of a row boat and engine to accelerate speed.
Getting the Most out of the Boats
The following are a few of the attempts to speed up the boat. Pot lead the bottom and sides, some grease it and others bronze the bottom. The enthusiast takes his boat out to dry for two or three days before each race. Splash boards preferably of light metal—extending at least five or six inches out from sides and extending from bow about two-thirds of the length. Some have installed a pump so that it can be handled by the man operating the boat. One has built in a rudder in the bow to assist in turning stakes effectively. The fastest boat of the 1922 season was a light eighteen footer.
Many experiments have also been made with fuel. The writer knows personally that Bensol, high test, high speed gas, and coalene, have all been used. Castor oil has been used instead of the mineral lubricating oil. Mothballs, ether, and many other so called stimulants to power have been added to the fuel. Some of the above have helped and some have brought only experience and regret.
Now we come to the engine. Some of the manufacturers would not recognize their own product. Many parts have been subtracted and many added. Changes can be made to most put-puts because they were not originally not designed for speed. However, the benefit of those who have pioneered , the writer refrains from revealing their pet changes. You will find them yourself as you put-put through a race or two.
Games and contests always provoke the best or worst in humans. No resort or regatta should book any put-put races without formulating rules. Just as the fathers of our Country found it necessary to create a fundamental law of the land at the outset, so likewise you must establish rules for these put-put races at the outset or you will have chaos, confusion, bitterness, individual and, therefore, conflicting interpretations of fair play, fair competition, etc.
Games and contests always provoke the best or worst in humans. No resort or regatta should book any put-put races without formulating rules. Just as the fathers of our Country found it necessary to create a fundamental law of the land at the outset, so likewise you must establish rules for these put-put races at the outset or you will have chaos, confusion, bitterness, individual and, therefore, conflicting interpretations of fair play, fair competition, etc.
Some Practical Suggestions
The Toledo Beach Boat club has passed through all of those stages, and this year the writer submitted the following rules which were adopted and have governed the last two races and are operative for the coming season. They are offered to the field not as the best set of rules, but merely as an effort to help keep the put-put races clean, orderly and fair, and uniform.
I. The races shall be managed and supervised by a Race Committee of three appointed by the president and confirmed by the executive committee (consisting of President, Secretary and Treasurer, etc.. of the club). The race committee shall serve for a period of one year. Ruling of racing committee shall be final. Committee shall appoint its assistants, subcommittees and officers.
BOATS
2. Flat bottom—with or without skeg—minimum length 14 feet. N0 restriction as to care of sides, bottom or any part of boat. No restriction upon application to surface for the purpose of increasing speed.
ENGINE
3. Any single cylinder out board engine—rated as a standard 2-horsepower. No restrictions as to make or type, or to additions or subtraction of parts. Boring cylinder prohibited.
CREW
4. No occupant of any boat shall be under 15 years of age or less than 100 pounds in weight.
5. Competing boats shall contain not less than two occupants, the owner of the boat or engine or member of his family, and one crew, both amateurs.
6. For the purpose of this race, an amateur is defined as one who is not, or who has not, been within the last year engaged or employed in a mechanical capacity in the business of building, or operating, boats or outboard motors as a means of livelihood.
COURSE
7. Triangular equal or unequal sides. Course to to be less than 4 miles in the aggregate.
FUEL8. No restrictions as to fuel or mixtures of fuel.
STARTING9. By air bombs or cannon. Preliminary gun 5 minutes before starting gun. Starting gun 5 minutes later. (If air bombs are used—time is computed from explosion in air.) Starter shall display cards 4, 3, 2, 1, and 1/2 or drop indicators to show the passing of starting line.
10. The race shall be run in such a direction that the boats shall have turning stakes on their port hand.
11. The boat that is in the lead has the right of way at stakes and straightaway providing sea room is given to all boats to port at the stakes.
12. Touching stake with boat or hands or any other device shall disqualify such entrant.
13. Crossing starting line before final gun shall disqualify unless entrant returns to a fair position and starts anew.
14. No occupant of any boat shall touch any other boat or person therein with hands, oars, or any other device. Any violation of above shall disqualify such entrant.
15. The hulls of competing boats must have no breaks in the longitudinal continuity of the immersed surface.
16. Competing boats must carry a racing number, assigned by the racing committee.
17. Competing boats must report to the racing committee at starting dock at least 10 minutes previous to start of races and immediately on crossing finishing line, competing boats must again report at a place designated by the race committee.
18. The race shall start at 2:30 p. m. No postponements from the advertised time of start of the race shall be allowed, excepting for weather conditions.
19. These rules shall remain in effect without change through and including the 1922 races. Changes made to these rules shall not become effective earlier than five months subsequent to their passage
.20. An entry fee of $5.00 must accompany entry for the season's races or a fee of $2.00 for each race.
Class “A” and “B” includes only flat bottomed boats. Class “C” includes any type of boat, and is a free-for-all.
What is the future of the put-put? Judging by the interest created at Stop 43, Toledo Beach, and many other resorts, and by the reception accorded them at several regattas, the writer predicts that put-put races will sweep the country during 1923. No regatta, or races of any size will be complete without the little fellows - the put-puts. Commercially the rivalry is intense and this winter will see the greatest activity on the part of every outboard motor company to develop the fastest put-put. The greatest activity will probably be in the manufacture of a fast light twin.
Another great stride will be made this winter winter in the construction of speed boats - flat bottom, round bottom types.
The big reason for the popularity, the universal appeal of the put-puts is the cost, compared with any other power races. Most any type of put-put can be bought for $75.00 to $110.00, and a boat can be built or bought for the same price. It's a game for the man of modest means.
1923 with a put-put race on every program will bring out the results of the winter’s intensive effort for speed, and make that season a most memorable one in the history of the put-put.
1923 with a put-put race on every program will bring out the results of the winter’s intensive effort for speed, and make that season a most memorable one in the history of the put-put.
January 1923, Motor Boating
This extra comment from 1923 is from Rudder:
"A reader wrote in following the publication of the February Boat Show issue and said: "... It seems as if the 1923 racing season will be what is known to small boys as a "whopper"."
Tuesday, October 29, 2019
1915 - Account of a Voyage From New York to Boston in a 12-Foot Dinghy Driven by an Outboard Motor
In 1915 Capt. Thomas Fleming Day, then editor of THE RUDDER magazine, conceived the idea of having an outboard cover the distance between New York City and Boston.
With the co-operation of the Evinrude Motor Company, Hans Mikkelsen and Oakley Fisher took upon themselves the job of driving the little boat over the long course. Hans Mikkelsen was with the Evinrude company wearing many different hats over the years.
HE man who wanted to get to Boston in the worst way was told to take the Joy Line.
The usual way is to take the New Haven Railroad or the Fall River Line, the one doing the distance in six hours, and the other in fourteen.
In the passage I am about to chronicle it took much longer, but was a far more interesting and enjoyable trip than being Pullmaned or paddled to the city of beans.
Convoying under power is a simpler and a more comfortable task, if the speed of all the vessels can be regulated to a uniformity. Had we a nurse boat that could have been run at the same speed as the small boat, the voyage would have been deprived of most of its difficulties. But owing to the big boat not being able to slow down to the dinghy's speed, we had to be constantly on the alert so as not to become separated from our convoy.
The nurse boat was a high-sided 40-foot cabin cruiser, powered with an old-fashioned two-cylinder, two-cycle motor that would run at full speed, but obstinately declined to be slowed down to anything less than five and one-half knots, the maximum speed being six and two-thirds. The nurse's name was Mayzi II, Captain Charles K. Sackett, and enrolled in the Robins Reef Y. C, of Bayonne, N. J.
Knowing what such a trip meant to a crew, especially if bad weather was encountered, it was my intention to have along at least eight—four to run the small boat and four the large—but as usual, when the time came to go, several who had volunteered backed out and left us short-handed. But having said I would start on such a day and hour there was nothing to do but go.
With sufficient crew we could have pushed right through without a stop, but owing to my being the only navigator on board, we were obliged to come to anchor so as to get a rest. The Evinrude Company sent on Mr. Oakley Fisher to run the motor in the little boat, and another Evinrude man, Mr. Hans Mikkelsen, volunteered to go along and work in shifts with Fisher. This they did alternately, driving the little boat all the way from New York to Boston.
The success of the voyage is largely due to the pluck, skill and perseverance of these two boys and if any glory is to be earned by making this successful passage, it belongs to Fisher and Mikkelsen, who performed their duties like real sailors. When it is known that neither of these men had been over the course before, and. had had little or no experience on salt water it will be admitted that they showed courage in tackling the undertaking, and skill in carrying it through without a hitch. It cannot be expected that all will go as planned, but usually three-quarters of the planning turns out as promised, and the rest, while causing delay and extra work, does not prevent the adventure being successful.
It was half-past one when we left the Robins Reef Y. C., and started for the Battery, with Sea Pup in tow. My intention was to start at two o'clock, it being low water at Governors Island, and take the flood up the East River. The tide sets very strong in this river, both on the flood and ebb, and it is waste of time and money to buck it with a small or low-powered vessel. Owing to the docking and straightening of the banks it is getting worse, especially in the Blackwells Island channels.
Our reason for starting from the Battery was twofold—first, that is the beginning of New
When off the boat basin, which lies on the West Side of the old Castle Garden building, I told Captain Sackett to lay-to and wait until we got through with the cameras, and then we would come out and start.
With the co-operation of the Evinrude Motor Company, Hans Mikkelsen and Oakley Fisher took upon themselves the job of driving the little boat over the long course. Hans Mikkelsen was with the Evinrude company wearing many different hats over the years.
HE man who wanted to get to Boston in the worst way was told to take the Joy Line. 
The usual way is to take the New Haven Railroad or the Fall River Line, the one doing the distance in six hours, and the other in fourteen.
In the passage I am about to chronicle it took much longer, but was a far more interesting and enjoyable trip than being Pullmaned or paddled to the city of beans.
Why we chose to make this voyage in so small a craft with such unusual power is told in another chapter. You will also find a drawing and description of the Sea Pup in May and June numbers of this magazine, so it is unnecessary for me to give you other than the two principal dimensions. Length over all, 12 feet; extreme breadth, 4 feet 3 inches. The power was an Evinrude outboard motor, a regular stock model, using a magneto, nothing being altered in anyway to fit it for the long passage.
In order to carry the fuel for the motor and food for the crew, it was necessary to have a nurse boat go along, and I intended to take Sea Bird for the purpose, but a few days before the start was planned she developed an obstinate leak which necessitated her being hauled out. She would have been just the boat for the job, as her speed under power is about equal to that of the dinghy, so enabling the two to keep readily together. Convoying another vessel is never a pleasant task, and it is especially arduous and wearying when your speed exceeds that of the convoy. You are constantly obliged to stop or circle back so as not to lose sight of the charge.
What a miserable temper-breaking job it must have been in the sailing-ship days when men-o'-war convoyed big fleets of merchantmen from port to port. How the captain of a smart sailing frigate or sloop must have cursed at a rotten old tub that, elbowing along at a speed of two or three knots, kept the whole bunch waiting. He and all his crew must have rejoiced when at sun up the tortoise was missing, having foundered or been picked up by privateers during the night.
In order to carry the fuel for the motor and food for the crew, it was necessary to have a nurse boat go along, and I intended to take Sea Bird for the purpose, but a few days before the start was planned she developed an obstinate leak which necessitated her being hauled out. She would have been just the boat for the job, as her speed under power is about equal to that of the dinghy, so enabling the two to keep readily together. Convoying another vessel is never a pleasant task, and it is especially arduous and wearying when your speed exceeds that of the convoy. You are constantly obliged to stop or circle back so as not to lose sight of the charge.
What a miserable temper-breaking job it must have been in the sailing-ship days when men-o'-war convoyed big fleets of merchantmen from port to port. How the captain of a smart sailing frigate or sloop must have cursed at a rotten old tub that, elbowing along at a speed of two or three knots, kept the whole bunch waiting. He and all his crew must have rejoiced when at sun up the tortoise was missing, having foundered or been picked up by privateers during the night.
The nurse boat was a high-sided 40-foot cabin cruiser, powered with an old-fashioned two-cylinder, two-cycle motor that would run at full speed, but obstinately declined to be slowed down to anything less than five and one-half knots, the maximum speed being six and two-thirds. The nurse's name was Mayzi II, Captain Charles K. Sackett, and enrolled in the Robins Reef Y. C, of Bayonne, N. J.
Knowing what such a trip meant to a crew, especially if bad weather was encountered, it was my intention to have along at least eight—four to run the small boat and four the large—but as usual, when the time came to go, several who had volunteered backed out and left us short-handed. But having said I would start on such a day and hour there was nothing to do but go.
With sufficient crew we could have pushed right through without a stop, but owing to my being the only navigator on board, we were obliged to come to anchor so as to get a rest. The Evinrude Company sent on Mr. Oakley Fisher to run the motor in the little boat, and another Evinrude man, Mr. Hans Mikkelsen, volunteered to go along and work in shifts with Fisher. This they did alternately, driving the little boat all the way from New York to Boston.
It was half-past one when we left the Robins Reef Y. C., and started for the Battery, with Sea Pup in tow. My intention was to start at two o'clock, it being low water at Governors Island, and take the flood up the East River. The tide sets very strong in this river, both on the flood and ebb, and it is waste of time and money to buck it with a small or low-powered vessel. Owing to the docking and straightening of the banks it is getting worse, especially in the Blackwells Island channels.
Our reason for starting from the Battery was twofold—first, that is the beginning of New
York, and second, because I wanted to get some movie films which my good friend, Dr. Salisbury, had kindly offered to take for me.
When off the boat basin, which lies on the West Side of the old Castle Garden building, I told Captain Sackett to lay-to and wait until we got through with the cameras, and then we would come out and start.
The basin has two entrances, and a float inside, but despite the protection of the walls, it is a bobbly place, owing to the swell thrown in by the constantly passing craft. Luckily, this day it was unusually smooth. We found the camera men and scribes waiting for us, and after a few words of instruction, started in circling around so the film artists could get what they wanted.
As soon as daylight made, I sent the small boat off ahead, and began creeping and nosing through the fog to find the Port Jefferson breakwater. The first thing was to pick up the shore and find out where we had fallen upon it. We gradually shoaled the water until the beach came right aboard, with not six inches under the keel. All these Long Island beaches look much alike, and it was only after running up and down it for a mile or two we decided it was about 5 miles to the East of the breakwater entrance, and turned the boat bow West again.
At last, we picked up the black buoy off , and ran in until the bell sounded right ahead. The vapor was so thick I could not see the tower until within fifty feet of the rocks. The little boat had gone in ahead of us, and made the village all right.
At the entrance to the canal, just below the railroad bridge, Collector Ghen met us with the guard boat, and piloted the Mayzi to the pier, where we tied up and waited for Sea Pup to arrive. While she was coming along I telephoned Walter Moreton in Boston, and asked him to come down with his speed boat, Flying Clam, and meet us off the East end of the canal. This would allow us to leave the nurse boat at Buzzards Bay, saving the canalage and gasoline.
In regard to the boat: Several designs have been put forth for the purpose of providing a small boat that will carry the weight of one of these outboard motors without squatting. Such of these that I have seen have been either failures or abortions, where the desired buoyancy has been obtained by making a craft that is out of proportion aft, and for this reason, useless for any other purpose. What we endeavored to produce in Sea Pup is a boat that is all-around useful, one that can be rowed, sailed or driven by motor. In plain words, what every experienced yachtsman wants his dinghy to be.
The average dinghy is a misfit affair. The reason for this is that they are designed and built by shop sailors, men who, no doubt, are good boat-builders, but having little or no outside experience. A yachtsman was unfortunately drowned this Summer out of one of these boats, and in a like craft I very nearly capsized in a moderate seaway. The most glaring defect of these boats is too much ends and not enough middle, the ends being pared and drawn out to make what is considered a good looking craft.
Sea Pup is not in any way original or novel. She is the result of centuries of experience; nothing more or less than a ship's yawl, modified to carry the outboard motor. You have in her the accumulated experience of your ancestors, and that is a compound worth more—a thousand times more—than all the modern shop knowledge lumped together.
It has been the practice of The Rudder when it sent forth a design, to test it out, and that is the reason why this voyage to Boston was undertaken. To this is largely due the success of Rudder boats. They are not office ideas worked up on a sheet of paper, but the result of years of experience, observation and study. We can now recommend this design to you with confidence that it will be found to be seaworthy, speedy and all-around useful.
In closing, I want to again compliment Mr. Fisher and Mr. Mikkelsen for their fine work, and to thank Captain Sackett for his able assistance in aiding in making the test a success.
To Mr. Meyer and Mr. Moreton, for helping us out, our thanks are also due, and, above all, the weather deserves to be remembered, for never did men enjoy four finer days for voyaging in a 12-foot boat.
Total distance 232.9 sea miles
Total time 52 hrs. 47 min.
Gasoline used 14 gallons
Lubricating oil used 7 pints
Total fuel cost $2.10
Total oil cost .56
Time taken per sea mile 13 min. 6 sec.
Average speed 4.58 knots (5.27 m.p.h.)
Quantity of gasoline per mile 0.48 pint
Cost of gasoline per mile 9/10ths of one cent
Quantity of lubricating oil per mile O.03 pint
Cost of lubricating oil per mile 1/5 of one cent
Price of gasoline 15 cents per gallon
Price of oil 65 cents per gallon
Quantity of fuel per hour 2 pints (approx.)
We then took on one of the crew, a few dress-suit cases, and other stuff that had been forgotten in the morning. The Pyrene Company very kindly sent down an extinguisher to carry in the boat, which we were all glad to get, as we never feel entirely safe unless equipped with that fire-fighting device. This summer there have been an unusual number of boat fires, several serious ones, entailing loss of life. Nine-tenths of these are the result of smoking. Careless use of matches. It would be a good idea to make every man who insists upon smoking on or in a motor boat carry a Pyrene extinguisher strapped to his waist, so he could put out the fires he starts with his widely flung matches.
(Do I spy an embedded ad here?
Nothing like a free fire extinguisher I bet!)
It was three o'clock when through with the camera men, and we shot out of the basin to pick up the nurse boat. She was nowhere to be seen, so supposing she had gone on up the East River, we rounded the Battery and motored off up that stream. The little boat was heavily burdened, there being three of us, three dress-suit cases and ten gallons of gasoline, but she ran dry through the ferry wash, making good time, with the young ebb helping along.
Owing to the many bridges and tunnels, the river is not the watery hell it used to be when dozens of ferry boats cut across from side to side. Now, you see very few of these boats, and some of the lines have been wholly abandoned, the slips and houses falling to ruins. So the old order changes; what will put bridges and tunnels out of employment?
It took Sea Pup one hour and twenty minutes to make Hell Gate, a distance of seven miles. She had good weather all the way up, the wind being Southeast, and so off the Long Island shore. The river is not the pleasantest of pastures when the wind blows up or down, against the current. Not seeing anything of our nurse, we decided to go into Pot Cove, land and telephone to the Battery and find out why the delay.
Just as we got through planning, Mayzi II came whizzing around Halletts Point, and without stopping, went on upstream. It was not until the Brothers were passed that she stopped and awaited our coming. We then heard the tale of woe.
Instead of laying-to outside, the nurse went into the police pier and made fast, and was promptly run into by a police patrol boat that smashed her steering gear. This was the cause of the delay. We now transferred the baggage and with one man, started off the little boat, with instructions to follow in our wake.
I had arranged a set of whistle and flashlight signals, the little boat having one set and the big boat the other. These consisted of numbers, for instance, 23 was go ahead; 43 come aboard. These proved good meat on several occasions. The boat was fitted with a small flag pole; on this she carried a white lantern by night. During the day we put a small piece of canvas on it as being so low it was difficult to keep her in sight in a seaway.
We passed Fort Schuyler at 5:45 p. m., and entered Long Island Sound for the first long run of some ninety miles to Race Rock. Off Stepping Stones we hoisted our lights, and passed Execution at seven o'clock, one hour behind the time fixed in the schedule. So far, all had gone well, the wind light, the sea smooth, and the sky clear.
(Do I spy an embedded ad here?
Nothing like a free fire extinguisher I bet!)It was three o'clock when through with the camera men, and we shot out of the basin to pick up the nurse boat. She was nowhere to be seen, so supposing she had gone on up the East River, we rounded the Battery and motored off up that stream. The little boat was heavily burdened, there being three of us, three dress-suit cases and ten gallons of gasoline, but she ran dry through the ferry wash, making good time, with the young ebb helping along.
It took Sea Pup one hour and twenty minutes to make Hell Gate, a distance of seven miles. She had good weather all the way up, the wind being Southeast, and so off the Long Island shore. The river is not the pleasantest of pastures when the wind blows up or down, against the current. Not seeing anything of our nurse, we decided to go into Pot Cove, land and telephone to the Battery and find out why the delay.
Instead of laying-to outside, the nurse went into the police pier and made fast, and was promptly run into by a police patrol boat that smashed her steering gear. This was the cause of the delay. We now transferred the baggage and with one man, started off the little boat, with instructions to follow in our wake.
I had arranged a set of whistle and flashlight signals, the little boat having one set and the big boat the other. These consisted of numbers, for instance, 23 was go ahead; 43 come aboard. These proved good meat on several occasions. The boat was fitted with a small flag pole; on this she carried a white lantern by night. During the day we put a small piece of canvas on it as being so low it was difficult to keep her in sight in a seaway.
We passed Fort Schuyler at 5:45 p. m., and entered Long Island Sound for the first long run of some ninety miles to Race Rock. Off Stepping Stones we hoisted our lights, and passed Execution at seven o'clock, one hour behind the time fixed in the schedule. So far, all had gone well, the wind light, the sea smooth, and the sky clear.
We were due at Stratford at 2 a. m., and arrived on time, the Sea Pup making over 4 knots and the motor running fine. You could hear its rhythmic song for a mile or more, and this, with the light, enabled us to keep track of the small craft. The motor on the big boat was giving trouble, and about ten miles East of Port Jefferson, it lay down and refused to start. Investigation showed that the batteries were dead, having died naturally, after two seasons' work.
At the same time a thick fog settled down. Luckily, Mikkelsen, who was running the Sea Pup, seeing the big boat stop, and the fog, came back, and we took his line, or else he surely would have lost us. There was nothing to do but let the hook go. This we did after running South far enough to be out of the track of the night boats. Now came a scraping up of batteries. By sacrificing both our binnacle lights and two extras we got six cells for the engine, and found it would spark enough to set the mill a-going.
Preparation—that is the keynote of success. Preparation for emergencies; meaning always having ready at hand a duplicate or substitute for what is lost or fails. Yet how few ever take the trouble to have spares aboard! Not once, but half a dozen times, I have seen boats crippled by neglecting to have spare parts of the ignition outfit on hand. Here were we, delayed for several hours through this neglect, and obliged to go back ten miles to a port to buy batteries.
Preparation—that is the keynote of success. Preparation for emergencies; meaning always having ready at hand a duplicate or substitute for what is lost or fails. Yet how few ever take the trouble to have spares aboard! Not once, but half a dozen times, I have seen boats crippled by neglecting to have spare parts of the ignition outfit on hand. Here were we, delayed for several hours through this neglect, and obliged to go back ten miles to a port to buy batteries.
At last, we picked up the black buoy off , and ran in until the bell sounded right ahead. The vapor was so thick I could not see the tower until within fifty feet of the rocks. The little boat had gone in ahead of us, and made the village all right.
How fog distorts objects! The white buoy off the entrance looked a hundred feet high; a man towered a gigantic creature. Seeing things in a fog always brings into my mind those weird pictures of Dore's. Two gulls sitting on a chip of wood looked like two men in a skiff, and I was about to hail when the birds took flight and destroyed the illusion.
Long Island is blessed with a number of fine harbors, and of these Port Jefferson is one of the best. It has been for many years a favorite Wintering place for yachts; many lying at anchor there season after season. In the good old days a number of vessels were built in its yards, Port Jefferson sloops and schooners being famous along the seaboard, but at present there is little or no building going on.
The town is directly North of Patchogue on Great South Bay, but while about nine miles apart, they are as far from each other as London from Cairo. The island has no cross communication, except in one or two places, and the South Side and the North Side seldom meet. East from Port Jefferson for forty miles there is no decent harbor, no towns of importance, and the land a sandy, scrub-covered waste, given up to huckleberries, deer and mosquitoes.
After getting the batteries, and 30 gallons of gasoline, so as to be sure not to run short, we put off outside to look for the little boat. The fog was still thick on the Sound, though clearing on the bay. Soon we heard the Evinrude humming and Sea Pup showed up, minus one hand, he having jumped the ship. As the deserter was the only relief I had at the wheel, it left me to do all the helming.
The water was dead smooth, the sun hot, and the fog passing away, we hoped, for good. At 5:30 the mist began to shut down again, and we called the little boat alongside and looked for a harbor before it got too thick. Saybrook being the nearest, we put in there, and came to anchor. I was well blown and glad of a chance to rest, having been without sleep for thirty-eight hours.
The morning dawned with promise of fine weather, and a long spell of it. The sun rose right out of the sea, his red round face cutting the horizon sharp as a sword edge. The wind came out of the Northwest, a gentle zephyr, steadily growing, sure sign of a real breeze. All hands were rested, and we determined to make a long day of it, and pick up some of the hours lost through fog.
The only spot on our happiness was a head tide, but head tide at the start usually means a fair one at the finish, but it held Sea Pup back considerably, so that it was eight o'clock before she passed New London and two hours later when Ram Island Light Vessel bore abeam. Then came the turn, and in fifty-eight minutes she was off Watch Hill, doing over 5 knots.
Such weather! If it had been ordered, you couldn't have bettered it. Clear as a bell; cool, strong breeze, and moderate sea. We were making a grand run. The little boat kept astern of us about half a mile, and when getting too far, we would circle back, and repass her. Every two hours and a half she would stop for two or three minutes to refill the tank, but except to get rid of weed on the propeller, she ran along steadily without changing one small note of her song.
We saw for the first time a number of vessels, including a large schooner yacht, carrying all the muslin her spars could stretch. This clipper was a beautiful sight, heeled to the rail, and going a good 10 knots. The Sound, once so full of sail, is almost deserted of craft. Some days you will voyage for forty miles without seeing a schooner, but this morning we saw a dozen run out of New London at the coming of the West wind, and start East through the Race. It shows how utterly bad trade is when such a highway is almost deserted. Coming back between Cuttyhunk and Watch Hill, we passed one solitary tow, and not another vessel of any size.
It will be some days before I forget that afternoon's run down the beach. Point Judith Breakwater was passed into at two o'clock, and here we shifted crews, and then set off for another leg to Cuttyhunk, passing the Light at 2:25. The wind was blowing fresh and bit rough sea, but it bothered Sea Pup not one mite. She was running along easy and dry, and her crew having the time of his life.
The mill on the nurse was an awful consumer of gas, so to save, we decided instead of circling back, to come to a halt and let the little boat run ahead for a mile or two, and go after her. We did this halfway betwixt Judith and Sekonnet, with almost dire results. I waited for twenty-five minutes, then ran ahead, expecting to pick the convoy up on the course in a quarter of an hour, but after running a mile, we could see no Sea Pup.
At last, after an anxious searching, the small bit of canvas looking like a shark's fin, could be seen far inshore, and we turned and ran up to meet it. The cause of the boat getting so far off the course was the helmsman sitting on the starboard side of the sternsheets, and the tendency to pull the helm towards him, rather than to shove it away, consequently the boat constantly worked to port. It was difficult to see so small a craft unless she was ahead of the sun; when between you and the sun, at any distance she was invisible.
At seven o'clock it was dark, and I was busy trying to locate the Hen and Chickens Light Vessel when the mill gave up again, and we came to a stop; so after trying for sometime to start, I ordered the hook let go and Sea Pup given the forty three. She came alongside, and we settled down for the night.
This run from Saybrook to Hen and Chickens in twelve hours was a good day's work—the best we had made—and without a hitch, the little boat clocking off a steady 4 1/2 knots. We could easily have made the canal that night, but might have lost the little fellow in the dark, so the best plan was to lay by and wait for daylight. What difference age and experience make to your ideas of distance!
Long Island is blessed with a number of fine harbors, and of these Port Jefferson is one of the best. It has been for many years a favorite Wintering place for yachts; many lying at anchor there season after season. In the good old days a number of vessels were built in its yards, Port Jefferson sloops and schooners being famous along the seaboard, but at present there is little or no building going on.
After getting the batteries, and 30 gallons of gasoline, so as to be sure not to run short, we put off outside to look for the little boat. The fog was still thick on the Sound, though clearing on the bay. Soon we heard the Evinrude humming and Sea Pup showed up, minus one hand, he having jumped the ship. As the deserter was the only relief I had at the wheel, it left me to do all the helming.
The water was dead smooth, the sun hot, and the fog passing away, we hoped, for good. At 5:30 the mist began to shut down again, and we called the little boat alongside and looked for a harbor before it got too thick. Saybrook being the nearest, we put in there, and came to anchor. I was well blown and glad of a chance to rest, having been without sleep for thirty-eight hours.
The morning dawned with promise of fine weather, and a long spell of it. The sun rose right out of the sea, his red round face cutting the horizon sharp as a sword edge. The wind came out of the Northwest, a gentle zephyr, steadily growing, sure sign of a real breeze. All hands were rested, and we determined to make a long day of it, and pick up some of the hours lost through fog.
The only spot on our happiness was a head tide, but head tide at the start usually means a fair one at the finish, but it held Sea Pup back considerably, so that it was eight o'clock before she passed New London and two hours later when Ram Island Light Vessel bore abeam. Then came the turn, and in fifty-eight minutes she was off Watch Hill, doing over 5 knots.
Such weather! If it had been ordered, you couldn't have bettered it. Clear as a bell; cool, strong breeze, and moderate sea. We were making a grand run. The little boat kept astern of us about half a mile, and when getting too far, we would circle back, and repass her. Every two hours and a half she would stop for two or three minutes to refill the tank, but except to get rid of weed on the propeller, she ran along steadily without changing one small note of her song.
We saw for the first time a number of vessels, including a large schooner yacht, carrying all the muslin her spars could stretch. This clipper was a beautiful sight, heeled to the rail, and going a good 10 knots. The Sound, once so full of sail, is almost deserted of craft. Some days you will voyage for forty miles without seeing a schooner, but this morning we saw a dozen run out of New London at the coming of the West wind, and start East through the Race. It shows how utterly bad trade is when such a highway is almost deserted. Coming back between Cuttyhunk and Watch Hill, we passed one solitary tow, and not another vessel of any size.
It will be some days before I forget that afternoon's run down the beach. Point Judith Breakwater was passed into at two o'clock, and here we shifted crews, and then set off for another leg to Cuttyhunk, passing the Light at 2:25. The wind was blowing fresh and bit rough sea, but it bothered Sea Pup not one mite. She was running along easy and dry, and her crew having the time of his life.
The mill on the nurse was an awful consumer of gas, so to save, we decided instead of circling back, to come to a halt and let the little boat run ahead for a mile or two, and go after her. We did this halfway betwixt Judith and Sekonnet, with almost dire results. I waited for twenty-five minutes, then ran ahead, expecting to pick the convoy up on the course in a quarter of an hour, but after running a mile, we could see no Sea Pup.
At last, after an anxious searching, the small bit of canvas looking like a shark's fin, could be seen far inshore, and we turned and ran up to meet it. The cause of the boat getting so far off the course was the helmsman sitting on the starboard side of the sternsheets, and the tendency to pull the helm towards him, rather than to shove it away, consequently the boat constantly worked to port. It was difficult to see so small a craft unless she was ahead of the sun; when between you and the sun, at any distance she was invisible.
At seven o'clock it was dark, and I was busy trying to locate the Hen and Chickens Light Vessel when the mill gave up again, and we came to a stop; so after trying for sometime to start, I ordered the hook let go and Sea Pup given the forty three. She came alongside, and we settled down for the night.
This run from Saybrook to Hen and Chickens in twelve hours was a good day's work—the best we had made—and without a hitch, the little boat clocking off a steady 4 1/2 knots. We could easily have made the canal that night, but might have lost the little fellow in the dark, so the best plan was to lay by and wait for daylight. What difference age and experience make to your ideas of distance!
I recollect when a kid, and we first went cruising, we used to think twenty miles a good day's work, and thirty something extraordinary. In a cruise from New Rochelle to Thimble Islands, some fifty miles, we took from two to three days to make the voyage, and perhaps six, getting back against the wind. Today the air would be blue if obliged to dawdle along like that. The coasters in Colonial days sailing as packets between the Eastern ports and New York, only made about thirty miles a day, taking from six to eight days to make the passage to Boston. One fellow, whose log I read, was six weeks from Boston to New Haven. They went into harbor every night, and never worked a head wind, except with a fair tide. Read Richardson's, the novelist, account of his voyage to Lisbon, and see what went for speedy voyaging a generation or three ago.
When morning broke, we were within two hundred yards of the Old Cock, the outermost rock of this dangerous reef. I never see that jagged line of stones without recalling the loss of Mystery, the New Haven sloop yacht that capsized off there, drowning all her crew. She was taken aback by a sudden shift of wind in the night and upset, being an inside-ballast, centerboard craft. One of the men was seen by a schooner's crew next morning standing on the rock just inside the Old Cock, but the vessel's captain left him to perish, giving the excuse that it was too rough to launch the yawl boat. This was supposed from description to be Bartlett, a man whom I knew.
The distance from Hen and Chickens to Wings Neck is about twenty-one miles, and leaving early, we made this by 9:50, and then headed in for the canal, Sea Pup following close behind. The fine weather still continued; light wind, smooth sea.
When morning broke, we were within two hundred yards of the Old Cock, the outermost rock of this dangerous reef. I never see that jagged line of stones without recalling the loss of Mystery, the New Haven sloop yacht that capsized off there, drowning all her crew. She was taken aback by a sudden shift of wind in the night and upset, being an inside-ballast, centerboard craft. One of the men was seen by a schooner's crew next morning standing on the rock just inside the Old Cock, but the vessel's captain left him to perish, giving the excuse that it was too rough to launch the yawl boat. This was supposed from description to be Bartlett, a man whom I knew.
The distance from Hen and Chickens to Wings Neck is about twenty-one miles, and leaving early, we made this by 9:50, and then headed in for the canal, Sea Pup following close behind. The fine weather still continued; light wind, smooth sea.
While waiting off Cleveland Ledge Gas Buoy for the little fellow to catch up, a large power skiff came to us and asked if we wanted help. We told the man why we were waiting and thanked him for his courtesy in coming to make the inquiry . I am sorry not to know the name of this man, but hope the mention of this of the act will be an incentive to others to do likewise. This Summer a power boat broken down was passed by abandoned for the mainland. It is to be regretted that not one of which offered to give him a tow, or even to make an inquiry as to whether he wanted help.
 |
| I had to look up gas buoys. Interesting! |
At Wings Neck begins the buoyed channel leading to the entrance of the Cape Cod Canal. This canal joins Buzzards Bay to Cape Cod Bay, passing across the narrow neck of sandy land lying between the sea and the Monument River. The original name of Buzzards Bay was Monumental Bay. Why it was so called, and why and when it was changed to Buzzards, I don't know.
On its shores at Cuttyhunk was the first settlement of the English in the New England States. Gosnold landed there and built a fort and village in 1609, but it was soon abandoned for the mainland. It is to be regretted that the original names of these places were not retained, instead of new or corrupted titles.
At the entrance to the canal, just below the railroad bridge, Collector Ghen met us with the guard boat, and piloted the Mayzi to the pier, where we tied up and waited for Sea Pup to arrive. While she was coming along I telephoned Walter Moreton in Boston, and asked him to come down with his speed boat, Flying Clam, and meet us off the East end of the canal. This would allow us to leave the nurse boat at Buzzards Bay, saving the canalage and gasoline.
The distance from Boston to the canal entrance is about fifty miles, and Flying Clam could make this in four hours. The canal charge for Sea Pup was five dollars, this being the minimum charge. The toll for yachts is based on their length over all, and very reasonable, it being about equal to the cost of the gasoline saved by using the longer route. The length of the canal is 8 miles, and the guaranteed depth 18 feet. The management are anxious to have boats use the waterway, and every attention is paid to vessels passing through it. The navigation on both sides is free from dangers and very simple.
Owing to the difference in the rise of the tides at the two ends, the current runs through very strongly, and as it was setting to the West, we were obliged to wait with the little boat until after two o'clock before getting underway for Boston. Moreton had promised to be waiting for us at the other end, so we loaded on all our goods and chattels and started off, the three of us, leaving Sackett and Noble to spend Sunday at Onset.
It has just occurred to me that in spinning this yarn I forgot to mention days and dates, unlike the hero who, in chronicling his campaign, wrote:
It was just 2:47 by the Buzzards Bay clock when we pulled out, and bucking a strong tide, headed East through the canal. The sides of the canal for some distance from the bridge are lined with dolphins for the waiting craft to moor to, and these dolphins are connected by a flying bridge similar to the dolphins in the Kiel Canal. To escape the current, we ran in behind the dolphins, and as close as possible to the bank. About halfway through the tide slacked and Sea Pup made better time, getting to and passing out at the other end at 4:30, being 1 hour and 43 minutes making the eight miles. Here another collector took up our pass, and we were free to proceed to sea.
The toll charged for the passage was $5, a very reasonable charge, but the toll on the large vessels is too heavy and prevents these using the canal. This is especially true of sailing craft as the wind, being furnished by nature, costs nothing, and a good Southwester makes it only a matter of ten hours' running from Cuttyhunk to Highland Tight, so that the saving of time is nil. If I was running the canal, my plan would be to station a tug at Minots Tight and another at Hen and Chickens to pick up and tow the schooners through free of charge. Keep this up for a couple of years, and they would become accustomed to employing the short cut and continue to use it. The ultimate fate of the canal is to come into the Government ownership, and to be made free of toll. Then all hands will use it.
Our promised escort was not at the canal mouth, so we decided to go ahead and make as far North as possible before overhauling her. It was decidedly cramped, three in the boat, and we did not relish several hours packed in with all the other goods and chattels. The sea, luckily, was like a looking-glass, and no sign of wind. Loaded as she was, the boat driven by the cheerful motor reeled off 4 1/2 knots. We saw two other boats, but neither proved to be the Flying Clam.
When Gurnet Light showed up at sunset, I decided to run into Plymouth and put up for the night, so headed in across the shoal, never doubting, even at low water, there would be draught enough to float a dinghy.
Friend, have you ever been in the harbor of Plymouth, Mass.? If so, it is unnecessary for me to enlarge on the subject. The first thing we nearly landed on was Browns Island; backing off this we ran into the channel, and then into another bank. Two boats ahead of us went aground, each supposing the other knew the way. One man we hailed answered that they had an 18-foot channel.
"What, 18 feet wide?" was our rejoinder.
Take my advice, go into Plymouth in daylight if you don't know the way, or go in at high water. We ended up at the clubhouses, being very kindly received, and courteously treated by several members who were on hand. We heard Flying Clam was in port and that her owner and Mr. Meyer, of the Evinrude Company, had come in her, and were awaiting us at the Rock House. They had left Boston late, and made into Plymouth for the night, hoping to find us there. In coming, they had bumped several times, and picked up a lot of weed on the wheel. A lobster supper and a real sleep followed.
At daylight we were underway again, passing Gurnet Light at 6:15, and heading away North, headed into a brisk breeze.
It was cold, and after passing Green River, I was glad to get into the Clam where there was room to move my legs.
Fisher took the Sea Pup, and the other four voyaged in the speed boat. It was surprising to see the way in which the dinghy drove up against the sea and wind; it did not seem to check her speed a particle, and at 9:50 she passed Scituate, while we went in back of the breakwater and put on some more clothes to keep warm.
Scituate is a fine harbor for small craft, and very easy to enter, except when a heavy Easterly is blowing. The entrance is behind a breakwater, which is marked by a ruined light tower.
The coast below Scituate as far as the canal entrance is free of all dangers if you give it a berth of a mile, but above this point there are many outlying rocks, and it is dangerous to approach at night or in bad weather.
But in fine weather and daylight, small craft can make passage among these rocks, as they can readily be detected by the break of the sea, or color of the water.
Another danger at night to power craft is the lobster pots, the place being pestered with them.
We made Cohasset at 10:50, going inside the rocks, so saving two or three miles, which would have been tolled if taking the course outside Minot's Ledge.
The wind now went more Easterly, and the sea smoothed out. It was warming up, much to our cheer. At 12:o6, Sea Pup passed Point Allerton, which is the South gatepost of Boston Harbor, and made up to the finish at the Boston Y. C. At 11:29, she finished at the club float, having made the run from port to port in 52 hours and 47 minutes.
All through the run the Evinrude motor never stopped, except when it was stopped by the engineer, and never balked or missed fire, to my knowledge. Any further comment on the excellence of the little machine is needless.
Owing to the difference in the rise of the tides at the two ends, the current runs through very strongly, and as it was setting to the West, we were obliged to wait with the little boat until after two o'clock before getting underway for Boston. Moreton had promised to be waiting for us at the other end, so we loaded on all our goods and chattels and started off, the three of us, leaving Sackett and Noble to spend Sunday at Onset.
It has just occurred to me that in spinning this yarn I forgot to mention days and dates, unlike the hero who, in chronicling his campaign, wrote:
"Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are week-days three:Monday, the army met;Tuesday, off we set;Wednesday, beaten were we."So to get you right in the reckoning, it was Wednesday, September 8th, when we sailed, and Saturday when we arrived at the canal entrance. It was scheduled to be in Boston Saturday, about 1 p.m., but owing to the fog, we lost some thirty hours, and as all who have voyaged know lost hours are untraveled miles and hard things to make up.
It was just 2:47 by the Buzzards Bay clock when we pulled out, and bucking a strong tide, headed East through the canal. The sides of the canal for some distance from the bridge are lined with dolphins for the waiting craft to moor to, and these dolphins are connected by a flying bridge similar to the dolphins in the Kiel Canal. To escape the current, we ran in behind the dolphins, and as close as possible to the bank. About halfway through the tide slacked and Sea Pup made better time, getting to and passing out at the other end at 4:30, being 1 hour and 43 minutes making the eight miles. Here another collector took up our pass, and we were free to proceed to sea.
The toll charged for the passage was $5, a very reasonable charge, but the toll on the large vessels is too heavy and prevents these using the canal. This is especially true of sailing craft as the wind, being furnished by nature, costs nothing, and a good Southwester makes it only a matter of ten hours' running from Cuttyhunk to Highland Tight, so that the saving of time is nil. If I was running the canal, my plan would be to station a tug at Minots Tight and another at Hen and Chickens to pick up and tow the schooners through free of charge. Keep this up for a couple of years, and they would become accustomed to employing the short cut and continue to use it. The ultimate fate of the canal is to come into the Government ownership, and to be made free of toll. Then all hands will use it.
Our promised escort was not at the canal mouth, so we decided to go ahead and make as far North as possible before overhauling her. It was decidedly cramped, three in the boat, and we did not relish several hours packed in with all the other goods and chattels. The sea, luckily, was like a looking-glass, and no sign of wind. Loaded as she was, the boat driven by the cheerful motor reeled off 4 1/2 knots. We saw two other boats, but neither proved to be the Flying Clam.
When Gurnet Light showed up at sunset, I decided to run into Plymouth and put up for the night, so headed in across the shoal, never doubting, even at low water, there would be draught enough to float a dinghy.
Friend, have you ever been in the harbor of Plymouth, Mass.? If so, it is unnecessary for me to enlarge on the subject. The first thing we nearly landed on was Browns Island; backing off this we ran into the channel, and then into another bank. Two boats ahead of us went aground, each supposing the other knew the way. One man we hailed answered that they had an 18-foot channel.
"What, 18 feet wide?" was our rejoinder.
Take my advice, go into Plymouth in daylight if you don't know the way, or go in at high water. We ended up at the clubhouses, being very kindly received, and courteously treated by several members who were on hand. We heard Flying Clam was in port and that her owner and Mr. Meyer, of the Evinrude Company, had come in her, and were awaiting us at the Rock House. They had left Boston late, and made into Plymouth for the night, hoping to find us there. In coming, they had bumped several times, and picked up a lot of weed on the wheel. A lobster supper and a real sleep followed.
At daylight we were underway again, passing Gurnet Light at 6:15, and heading away North, headed into a brisk breeze.
It was cold, and after passing Green River, I was glad to get into the Clam where there was room to move my legs.
Fisher took the Sea Pup, and the other four voyaged in the speed boat. It was surprising to see the way in which the dinghy drove up against the sea and wind; it did not seem to check her speed a particle, and at 9:50 she passed Scituate, while we went in back of the breakwater and put on some more clothes to keep warm.
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| Old Scituate Light |
The coast below Scituate as far as the canal entrance is free of all dangers if you give it a berth of a mile, but above this point there are many outlying rocks, and it is dangerous to approach at night or in bad weather.
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| Scituate Harbor |
But in fine weather and daylight, small craft can make passage among these rocks, as they can readily be detected by the break of the sea, or color of the water.
Another danger at night to power craft is the lobster pots, the place being pestered with them.
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| Minot's Ledge Light |
We made Cohasset at 10:50, going inside the rocks, so saving two or three miles, which would have been tolled if taking the course outside Minot's Ledge.
The wind now went more Easterly, and the sea smoothed out. It was warming up, much to our cheer. At 12:o6, Sea Pup passed Point Allerton, which is the South gatepost of Boston Harbor, and made up to the finish at the Boston Y. C. At 11:29, she finished at the club float, having made the run from port to port in 52 hours and 47 minutes.
All through the run the Evinrude motor never stopped, except when it was stopped by the engineer, and never balked or missed fire, to my knowledge. Any further comment on the excellence of the little machine is needless.
In regard to the boat: Several designs have been put forth for the purpose of providing a small boat that will carry the weight of one of these outboard motors without squatting. Such of these that I have seen have been either failures or abortions, where the desired buoyancy has been obtained by making a craft that is out of proportion aft, and for this reason, useless for any other purpose. What we endeavored to produce in Sea Pup is a boat that is all-around useful, one that can be rowed, sailed or driven by motor. In plain words, what every experienced yachtsman wants his dinghy to be.
The average dinghy is a misfit affair. The reason for this is that they are designed and built by shop sailors, men who, no doubt, are good boat-builders, but having little or no outside experience. A yachtsman was unfortunately drowned this Summer out of one of these boats, and in a like craft I very nearly capsized in a moderate seaway. The most glaring defect of these boats is too much ends and not enough middle, the ends being pared and drawn out to make what is considered a good looking craft.
Sea Pup is not in any way original or novel. She is the result of centuries of experience; nothing more or less than a ship's yawl, modified to carry the outboard motor. You have in her the accumulated experience of your ancestors, and that is a compound worth more—a thousand times more—than all the modern shop knowledge lumped together.
It has been the practice of The Rudder when it sent forth a design, to test it out, and that is the reason why this voyage to Boston was undertaken. To this is largely due the success of Rudder boats. They are not office ideas worked up on a sheet of paper, but the result of years of experience, observation and study. We can now recommend this design to you with confidence that it will be found to be seaworthy, speedy and all-around useful.
In closing, I want to again compliment Mr. Fisher and Mr. Mikkelsen for their fine work, and to thank Captain Sackett for his able assistance in aiding in making the test a success.
Total distance 232.9 sea miles
Total time 52 hrs. 47 min.
Gasoline used 14 gallons
Lubricating oil used 7 pints
Total fuel cost $2.10
Total oil cost .56
Time taken per sea mile 13 min. 6 sec.
Average speed 4.58 knots (5.27 m.p.h.)
Quantity of gasoline per mile 0.48 pint
Cost of gasoline per mile 9/10ths of one cent
Quantity of lubricating oil per mile O.03 pint
Cost of lubricating oil per mile 1/5 of one cent
Price of gasoline 15 cents per gallon
Price of oil 65 cents per gallon
Quantity of fuel per hour 2 pints (approx.)
The End
Just following up on "one of the boys", the Evinrude man Hans Mikkelsen. Nine years later in 1924 this article was in Motor Boating.
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