I.

YACHT RACING AS A SPORT. BRIEF REVIEW OF THE FASCINATING PASTIME FROM ITS INCEPTION TO THE PRESENT TIME.

About half a century ago, when I wasn’t so gray and grizzled as I am now, I was shipmate with John Gulliver, an ancient mariner who fully believed in the doctrine of the transmigration of souls. He used to spin the most wonderful yarns. He had in former incarnations animated the body of a whale, a green turtle and a sea-gull. He had also been cabin boy on the good ship _Ark_. He declared that, of all the skippers he had ever sailed under, Captain Noah was the strictest.

During the brief but memorable voyage of that historic craft, the crew, he declared, never once got an afternoon watch below. When they weren’t feeding the live stock they were kept busy on deck cleaning brasswork and hauling taut the lee crossjack brace. He said he felt very glad when the time came for the crew to be paid off. He had grown weary of the weevily biscuits and the tough salt junk. There were no “manavellings” aboard the tarnation hooker and the Old Man only served out rum once during the voyage, and that was when the _Ark_ was hove-to under a goose-winged maintopsail and foretopmast staysail in the latitude and longitude of Mount Ararat, waiting for the dove to come aboard.

I remember I used to listen with my mouth wide open to the marvelous stories of this old salt. I once asked him to describe the interior fittings of Captain Noah’s ship, but from what I could gather from him there wasn’t much gilt gingerbread work in her main saloon. Everything was for use; nothing for ornament. There weren’t even brass hoops on the mess kids. Besides, she leaked like a sieve and wouldn’t steer well unless close-hauled on a bowline.

The ship _Argo_, in which Jason sailed in search of the Golden Fleece, had no artistic decorations below, but her hull, from all accounts, was a “dandy.” Built of lofty pines which flourished on Mount Pelion, she was pierced for fifty oars. She was daubed with coal-black pitch, and her bows were painted with vermilion. I don’t believe she ever made more than four knots an hour, even with fifty heroes pulling their hardest at the oars, all keeping time to the music of the harp of Orpheus, who had too much low cunning to do any work himself. The _Argo_ was a yacht manned by Corinthians and the first one that ever sailed on the Euxine, vulgarly known as the Black Sea. So far as I know, there are no photographs extant of her interior, but judging from the log of her voyage she had a fine galley on deck, in which her crew of heroes used to cook the choice parts of swine and deer for their own use, offering up the offal as a sacrifice to the immortal gods—a circumstance showing that the ancient mariners were just as level-headed as the down-to-date seamen of to-day.

[Illustration:

JASON’S YACHT “ARGO.” ]

The handsome barges which belonged to the high civilization of ancient Egypt used to ply on the muddy waters of the Nile, and highly ornate vessels they were, manned by fifty rowers. They had sails of crimson silk, richly embroidered. Their cabins were sumptuous, spacious and luxurious, gold, silver and precious stones being used lavishly in their decoration. In such a stately craft Cleopatra and Mark Antony passed many halcyon hours of splendid ease and amorous dalliance. The Romans and Carthaginians had their pleasure craft, and so had the Greeks and Venetians.

It was the custom of the Romans to hold regattas of biremes and triremes, and according to the chronicles a good deal of money changed hands over the results. Every schoolboy remembers the exciting boat race between those gallant Trojan captains, Cloanthus and Sergestus, so ably reported by one Vergil. I know that I can never forget it. That regatta cost me many a cruel birching. In these competitions oars only were used. I fancy that sails were not set in those days except when the wind blew abaft the beam, the ancients not being well versed in the art of beating to windward. The swift ships in which Father Æneas, his faithful Achates and his devoted followers, fled from Troy, had, I suppose, but scanty cabin accommodations; and when bold Pilot Palinurus glanced at the compass to see if the helmsman was steering a correct course, no highly polished brass binnacle reflected that skillful old navigator’s bronzed and bearded face.

The flagship of Columbus may fairly be classed with the _Argo_, and so may the Norse galley which brought to the rugged New England coast those hardy salts who built the windmill at Newport and left their indelible marks on the primeval granite rocks of that region.

The Dutch, I think, were the inventors of the sailing yacht proper, and from Holland the finest diversion in the world spread to Great Britain, and became the sport of kings. Quaint old Pepys, in his diary, tells us of a sailing yacht named _Mary_, which was presented by the Dutch East India Company to King Charles II. in the year 1661. Charles was a tip-top yachtsman, the merry monarch being never sick at sea. His yacht _Mary_ was beaten by another pleasure craft of English design, the match being the first between sailing yachts in the history of the pastime in England. According to Pepys, the _Mary_ was snug and cozy below, quite comfortable, but not at all luxurious. The king cruised much in her up and down the English Channel in the palmy days of his reign.

Three hundred years before, when Marino Faliero was Doge of Venice, a merchant prince of that state originated pleasure sailing on the peaceful Adriatic. A Dutchman called Van Kompf transferred the craft to the German Ocean, and gave it the name of yacht. To the Dutch and Scandinavian strain in the English blood is owing that passion for the sea which has made yachting so favorite a recreation in Great Britain. Our own love for the sport is doubtless derived from the same source.

Turning to our own land the beginnings are naturally more definite. We know the exact facts, for the New York Yacht Club was organized aboard Mr. John C. Stevens’ schooner _Gimcrack_ on July 30, 1844, the _Gimcrack_ being at anchor off the Battery. In those days there were but few yachts, and most of them were small. The fittings of pleasure craft were then simple and inexpensive, when compared with the luxurious and costly appointments of the palatial vessels which are our pride to-day. The old _Maria_, which was the last yacht owned by Commodore Stevens, would not rank very high in the present fleet of magnificent steamers, schooners, sloops and cutters. She was the finest and fastest yacht of her day, having many of what are now termed “modern improvements,” such as outside lead, a heavily weighted main centerboard, also a forward centerboard, a hollow main boom ninety-five feet long and nine feet in circumference at its greatest girth, built of white oak staves, with doweled and keyed edges, iron bands and longitudinal iron trusses. Her main sheet was fitted with a rubber compressor.

Her former sailing-master is on record as saying: “She would work within seven points, and I have sailed her seventeen knots. On her trial trip with the _America_ along the beach we beat her so badly that Mr. Stevens was in doubt whether it was good policy to send her to England; but as she defeated all the others by as much as we beat her, it was finally decided she ought to go.”

The _Maria_ is said to have cost $100,000, a vast sum in those days even for Mr. Stevens, who owned nearly all Weehawken and Hoboken. It must be remembered, however, that she was continually being altered and improved, no expense being spared. The equipments and cabin fittings of all the pleasure craft of that period were plain and economical. The greater part of their cost was expended on hulls, spars and rigging, which were of the best material. The age was not so luxurious as it is to-day. Though bronze and aluminum hulls, steel booms, wire rigging, silken sails, and the one hundred and one “fads,” patented and otherwise, which are now considered indispensable for racing were unknown, the yachts cost a pretty round sum, but merely a trifle compared with the crack clippers of this year of grace.

[Illustration:

THE VIKING SHIP. ]

The cabins of those yachts were not finished in costly hard woods carved by artists and highly polished. No upholstery of silken plush or hangings of rich tapestry were to be seen. Sperm oil in brass lamps of no particular design illuminated the space below. The fare, too, was plain and simple. Little or no wine of costly vintage was consumed. Honest claret, mellow Medford rum, and fine old whisky were the staple beverages with which those sturdy salts moistened their clay, while they solaced their souls with Virginia tobacco smoked in pipes of quaint Dutch shape. It is needless to say that the “400” of half a century ago didn’t carry their valets with them while cruising on the Sound or while sailing to Cape May.

The old course of the club was from the club-house in the Elysian Fields, Hoboken, out to the Southwest Spit and back. The yachts, as a rule, were sailed by amateurs. No uniform was worn in those primitive days, and there was no red tape whatever. But it is questionable if a finer class of amateurs ever existed than those men who sailed the yachts of the club during the first twenty years of its history.

If some of those sturdy salts who flourished in the good old days of our famous schooner _America_ could rise from their snuggeries in the cemeteries and sail on the squadron cruise of the New York Yacht Club next August, I would promise them a spectacle which would astonish them. I would first point out to them in Glen Cove a fleet of more than one hundred yachts, comprising some of the finest steam and sailing craft in the world. I would next call attention to the fairy-like electric, steam, and naphtha launches darting between the ships and the shore, some of them laden with ladies of bewitching loveliness, dressed so saucily and coquettishly in nautical raiment as to make a bachelor’s mouth water.

I would next take my resurrected friends in a naphtha launch on board one of the big steam yachts, and while on their way thither they would marvel at the handiness and speed of the little boat which carried them. If it was the flagship _Corsair_ they visited, her owner would be sure to have the side piped in true man-o’-war fashion in honor of the old-time salts. Climbing up the gangway ladder, walking aft on the snowy deck, they would be invited below, to the hospitality of the _Corsair_, which they would indeed be loath to leave.

I might then possibly convoy them aboard the big racing schooner _Colonia_ and the new cup defender, and, after gazing upon these two marine marvels, you might wager that the old chaps would make a vigorous kick against returning to their little grass-covered beds.

While rummaging over some musty documents in the library of an old seafaring friend the other day, I happened to come across some interesting memoranda concerning the good old schooner _Gimcrack_, the first flagship of the New York Yacht Club. From these items I gather that she was fitted with a fixed centerboard of heavy plate iron, four feet deep and fifteen feet long, resembling the fin of to-day, but minus the bulb of lead on the base. This is another exemplification of the truth of the old adage that there is nothing new under the sun.

The pastime which was so ably started by those old and gallant sportsmen has prospered beyond belief, and no wonder, for yacht racing, in my judgment, is the most fascinating and wholesome sport in the world. Its devotees are actuated by no mercenary or money-making motives, but follow the pastime for the many delights its pursuit affords. The praiseworthy ambition that has for its goal the winning of sea trophies is devoid of all craving after filthy lucre, because the prizes obtained, no matter whether in cash or plate, are trifling in comparison with the first cost of the yacht and the incidental expenses of running her. There are many other reasons that may be adduced to prove that the pastime excels all others; but, in my opinion, the most convincing argument that can be urged is that no scandal has ever sullied the fair name of the sport, and that its followers the wide world over are the best fellows that breathe—generous, hearty and manly—the salt of the earth, in fact.

It is a sport in which the element of gambling rarely enters, except in the case of international events, when patriotic pride impels men to back their country’s flag with a modest wager. I have been a close student of yachting lore for more years than I care to recall, but I know of no instance where yacht racing has made a financial wreck of one of its faithful adherents. Of what other gentlemanly sport can as much be truthfully alleged?

If a rich man has sons with a leaning toward yachting he should encourage its complete development. I know of no better school for the cultivation of all manly virtues. There is no question concerning its healthfulness, but my contention is that a man’s moral tone as well as his physical constitution improves by association with the sea. Self-reliance, quickness of decision, action and resource, bravery and personal endurance, are qualities necessary for success in life. Where can all these desirable characteristics be acquired with more ease and greater satisfaction than on a racing vessel, preferably one of moderate size manned exclusively by amateurs or with the aid of one paid hand?

[Illustration: [The Flagship of Columbus]]

It may properly be remarked that the love of boating is innate and can never be acquired. The mere sight of the sea has an attraction to the true son of Neptune as cogent as that of the magnet to the pole. He eagerly desires to be afloat on it, and can sympathize with Charles Lever, who once said he would rather have a plank for a boat and a handkerchief for a sail than resign himself to give up boating altogether. The man who has not the nautical instinct can never come to regard a boat with more affection than he does a horse-car. When you rave ecstatically of the virtues of your little ship he feels inclined to think that you must be half crazy. You can never make a yachtsman out of material such as this. We cannot all be sailors, so therefore let the cobbler stick to his last and the cook to the foresheet, where he belongs!

The deduction from the above is that you should be careful as to the choice of your seagoing chum. The most congenial companion ashore may prove an insufferable bore afloat. And to tell the truth, you ought not to blame him for the lack of the nautical instinct, but rather yourself for inviting a person lacking that saving qualification to go sailing with you. _Nauticus nascitur, non fit_ is a true adage. There is a huge army of our fellow creatures who think with Dr. Johnson that the pleasure of going to sea is getting ashore again from a prison, where there is also the risk of getting drowned. But a far brighter literary light than he, Thomas Carlyle, to wit, the crabbed, the cynic, who was ever ready to use his mordant pen of wormwood in holding up to execration the foibles and the sins of humanity ashore, was always blind to the faults of his fellow-man afloat. The acrid gall of his being, induced by the horrors of chronic dyspepsia, was converted into milk and honey by the magic influence of the Ocean.

Who can forget the account of his trip to Ostend and back in the revenue cutter _Vigilant_ in 1842? He described the craft as a smart little trim ship of some 250 tons, rigged, fitted, kept and navigated in the highest style of English seacraft, made every way for sailing fast that she may catch smugglers. Outside and inside, in furniture, equipment, action and look, she seemed a model, clean as a lady’s work-box.

[Illustration:

DUTCH YACHT OF 17TH CENTURY. ]

His biographer, Froude, has told, of their return trip, how at midnight they were in their berths aboard the _Vigilant_ running out into the North Sea: “The wind fell in the morning and they were becalmed. They sighted the North Foreland before night, but the air was still light, and it was not till the next day that they were fairly in the river. Then a rattling breeze sprang up and the _Vigilant_, with her vast mainsail, her vast balloon jib, with all the canvas set which she could carry, flew through the water, passing sailing vessels, passing steamers, passing everything. They carried on as if they were entered for a racing cup. The jib, of too light material for such hard driving, split with a report like a cannon. Carlyle saw the ‘Captain’s eyes twinkle; no other change.’ In ten minutes the flying wreck was gathered in, another jib was set and standing in place of it, and the yacht sped on as before. ‘To see men so perfect in their craft, fit for their work, and fitly ordered to it,’ was a real consolation to him. There was something still left in the public service of England which had survived Parliamentary eloquence. They entered at Deptford and the gig was lowered to take the party up to London.

“Five rowers with a boatswain; men unsurpassable, I do not doubt, in boat navigation; strong, tall men, all clean shaved, clean washed, in clean blue trousers, in massive clean check shirts, their black neckcloths tied round their waists, their large, clean brown hands, cunning in the craft of the sea—it was a kind of joy to look at it all. In a few minutes they shot us into the Custom House stairs, and here, waving our mild farewells, our travel’s history concluded. Thus had kind destiny projected us rocket-wise for a little space into the clear blue of heaven and freedom. Thus again were we swiftly reabsorbed into the great, smoky, simmering crater, and London’s soot volcano had again re-covered us.”

I am sure my readers will pardon me for quoting at such length from Carlyle, if only for the reason that the matter I reproduce is far more interesting than any I can originate. Besides, I need the extract to emphasize my argument concerning the healthful moral tonic of my much-loved sea. Here is atrabilious, doleful, indignant, and scornful Carlyle cured temporarily of all his mental disorders by a rattling run across the North Sea and back. He lands in a delightful frame of mind, and has nothing but the most pleasant reminiscences of the _Vigilant_, her skipper and her crew. The readers of his stories of other journeys by land will appreciate the surprising contrast.

Very few men go into yachting for the advertisement that it may offer. It is always possible for some seller of quack medicines to achieve cheap notoriety by claiming that he is about to build a yacht to defend or capture the _America’s_ Cup. If he uses diligently whatever art of claptrap he is endowed with he will find numbers of newspapers gullible enough to give him columns and columns of gratuitous puffs. The public may be beguiled for a time into the belief that his intentions are really honest; but the experienced yachtsman will not be deceived for a moment, as he knows that no yacht club of repute will father the challenge of such a person, even in the unlikely event of his building a yacht for the purpose of a real race. Yacht clubs on both sides of the Atlantic, to their credit, fight very shy of such queer customers.

[Illustration:

COMMODORE JOHN C. STEVENS, The Father of American Yachting. ]

Thus it is that the sport is confined to gentlemen; nautical blacklegs, blackguards, and “welshers” being unknown. The membership committees of the clubs are very discriminating and cautious as to those whom they admit; and even if a “black sheep” succeeds in entering the flock his presence is soon discovered, and he quietly learns that his room is more desirable than his company. His resignation follows as a matter of course.

A yacht club composed principally of men who love the sport for the precious gifts it offers, and not for fashion’s sake, or because “It’s the proper caper, you know, to belong to a yacht club, don’t you see?” is an excellent school for a young man, both morally and physically. In the arena of professional sport, as we all know, objectionable characters, unhappily, fairly swarm. It would be invidious to particularize or to single out any one sport as being remarkable from the number of black sheep among its adherents. But of yachting it may truly be said that the pastime never has been disgraced or degraded by the professional hands necessarily employed in its service. Officers and men before the mast quickly realize that good conduct is the only secret of success, that braggarts and bullies have no place in its symmetry, and that dishonesty of any kind, whether selling a race or robbing a yacht owner, is quickly detected and punished. I have never known an instance of the first-named disgraceful offence, and the lack of it speaks volumes in behalf of the honor and integrity of yacht skippers the wide world over. Be it remembered that for a sailing-master to lose a race would be as easy as for a jockey to so ride a horse that in spite of his gameness or his speed he could not possibly win. Scandals such as in the past have made the turf a byword are happily unknown in yacht racing. In all my experience of yachtsmen I never heard one of them, in his most open and confidential moods, with his mind mellowed with grog, boast of winning a race by unfair or questionable methods.

Many stockbrokers race their yachts, and, although the Stock Exchange is supposed to have a peculiar effect on the moral tone of its members, yet when these gentlemen engage in a yacht race they display the nicest honor, the most chivalrous conduct toward their adversaries, that is indeed most admirable to contemplate. Lawyers, too, who in the exercise of their profession are full of wiles and stratagems, lose their chief characteristics when they enter their yacht club or get aboard their yachts. The transformation is magical. You fail to recognize in the bluff, open and honest sea-dog in his natty suit of serge the shrewd gentleman of the long robe who, with his quips and his quirks and his long list of precedents and his unfailing gift of the gab, has just succeeded in making the Supreme Court of the United States feel exquisitely unhappy. Talk of Aladdin’s lamp or any other famous storied talisman as you please but, upon my word, the sea has worked more wonders than them all!

There is much patriotism among our yachtsmen, the bulk of the Naval Militia of the various States, possessing such a volunteer organization, consisting of men who are devoted to the sport. That the United States Government is much indebted to yachtsmen is now generously conceded by our naval authorities, who, at the outset of the war with Spain, availed themselves of a large fleet of steam yachts, which were transformed with marvelous celerity into despatch boats, protected cruisers and torpedo boat destroyers. They proved of immense service to the navy, as that arm of our national defence was destitute of these almost indispensable vessels. It may be truthfully alleged that the navy would have been in an unpleasant predicament if it had not been possible to call upon the steam yachting fleet of the Atlantic coast. The splendid achievement of the converted yacht _Gloucester_, formerly the flagship of the New York Yacht Club, which drove ashore two Spanish torpedo boat destroyers near Santiago de Cuba on July 3, 1898, will always be remembered as one of the most brilliant episodes of that “most just and charitable war.” She was in command of Lieut.-Commander Wainwright, who was executive officer of the _Maine_ when she was blown up in Havana harbor on February 15, 1898.

[Illustration:

“GIMCRACK” AND “MARIA.” ]

The generous response of the Naval Militia to the call of the President and the eagerness of yachtsmen generally to recruit its ranks have been highly appreciated. Yachtsmen will ever feel proud of the gallantry of the Naval Militia because it is so largely composed of their shipmates and messmates. It is needless to expatiate on the patriotic part of my theme. The advantages of yachting as a nursery for the navy in war-time are indisputable, and will occur to anybody who will give the matter due reflection.

[Illustration:

“AMERICA,” 1851. ]

[Illustration:

“MARIA,” 1851. ]

The Corinthian Yacht Club of New York, now unhappily extinct, did excellent work in its rather brief but not inglorious career. It achieved much in the way of the abolition of the pernicious broad and shallow type of boat which at the time of the Corinthian Club’s heyday was extremely popular. I should be disingenuous were I not to confess quite frankly that the extreme type of plank-on-edge cutters favored by the leading lights of this club was, in my judgment, nearly as objectionable as the class of craft it sought to supersede. But still it must be said that the boat of to-day, which is a compromise between the extremes mentioned, owes a share at least of its existence to the bold efforts of the Corinthians. To abolish the “skimming dish” was one of the chief aims of the club, and that it did yeoman’s service in that direction was one of its greatest glories.

[Illustration:

“AMERICA’S” LINES. ]

An innovation made by this club was the establishment of cadets as members. These cadets were the sons or relatives of members who took an interest in the sport. They were entitled to many of the privileges of their elders, including the right to wear the club button. It always impressed me that the idea was a good one. I know of no other club that has followed its example. Now that the ban against women has been removed by half-a-dozen clubs of importance, Young America may also be granted an opportunity to rise and shine. There is no doubt that the average American boy is fond of a sailor’s life. It is also true that some of the genus would hardly be a joy in the life of a yacht club if admitted to cadetship. There is every likelihood, therefore, that it may be long before the boy becomes an active participant in yachting, so far as clubs are concerned. But I know several ambitious youths who can handle their fathers’ vessels as well as a veteran, and who can be depended on to enter into the vigorous practice of the sport as soon as they get old enough to run their own affairs.

It is my intention to discuss in detail the cost of running a racing yacht, in a subsequent chapter, but I may say in a general way that capital sport may be had each season at a moderate outlay. There never before were so many yacht clubs as there are to-day, and never has a more intelligent interest been taken in the economical pursuit of racing. _Defenders_, _Vigilants_, _Colonias_ and _Emeralds_ are vessels beyond the reach of all but millionaires. It is only the very richest of our fellow citizens who can enjoy the delights of racing these large and costly vessels. But the popular restricted classes of 1899 offer inducements that the ordinary man of affairs earning a moderate income may easily avail himself of. Suppose that two chums, who have sailed together long enough to find out that their idiosyncrasies of disposition and temperament will allow them to dwell together in amity afloat, form a marine partnership and buy jointly a knockabout or raceabout for cup-hunting and cruising purposes. The first cost of the boat, complete and delivered, might be $800. A second-hand boat might be picked up much cheaper. The expense of keeping her in commission would be modest. No paid hand would be necessary, and the boat might be so moored that one of the club hands would keep a general watch on her to see that no harm befell her in a summer storm, his recompense for this being a generous “tip” at the end of the season.

In nearly all of the yacht clubs in the vicinity of the metropolis special efforts are made to induce owners of small craft to join, and there are facilities for the safe anchorage and also the hauling out of the club’s mosquito squadron. In this the clubs act wisely, for the small classes are really the life of the organization, which, without their active interest, might stand a fair chance of perishing of inanition.

Most pleasures are evanescent when compared with the comfort that a sea-dog gets from fixing up his cabin for the season’s sport. The ingenuity displayed in making the most of the necessarily limited quarters at his disposal, the stowage of his “dunnage,” so as to be able to put his hand on anything at a moment’s notice in the dark, the capacity of creating a home-like interior out of chaotic surroundings, call out every faculty.

The first sail on a new boat which is your very own causes a thrill of joy. To see the noble craft respond to the slightest touch of the tiller, to watch her gradually eat her way to windward in the teeth of a merry breeze, with a shining furrow of foam in her wake and her sharp cutwater cleaving the blue billows, and when, with sheet eased off and wind abeam, her lee rail almost awash, she puts on an extra spurt—all these are ecstatic raptures which your poor land-lubber has never experienced.

Yachts are fickle jades, as all who have been victims of their whims and humors must fain concede. It is no wonder that they belong to the feminine gender. No coquette can be coyer or more difficult to please than the highly strung racing yacht. On occasions it is hard to realize that she is an inanimate fabric. I have known one to develop nerves and even hysteria. It takes a man of great judgment and infinite tact and good temper to get the best speed out of a modern racehorse. Qualifications similar and quite as highly developed are necessary to the successful yacht skipper, be he amateur or be he professional.

The ambition to excel in the art of yacht racing has been the means of inducing a great number of our fashionable youth, both golden and gilded, to cultivate the sport of yachting. The wholesome and invigorating influence of sea life and salt water have developed scores of dudes into men; and the one-design classes, now so popular, do much to keep young fellows out of mischief.

Racing in the smaller classes is encouraged by all the clubs except one—the New York Yacht Club—and open regattas are plentiful, to which the boats belonging to all recognized clubs are not only eligible but cordially welcome. The Yacht Racing Association of Long Island Sound has made a specialty of encouraging and promoting these open regattas, and the result is a programme of most attractive events, with no conflicting dates, that offer golden opportunities to ambitious amateurs to win trophies of their skill and daring. All existing classes are invited to take part in these competitions, as the most generous and sportsmanlike spirit of comradeship pervades the yacht clubs of the Sound; so, if a man prefers a catboat or a sloop or a yawl to a knockabout, he will have many opportunities of gratifying his yacht-racing instincts. The rules of this Yacht Racing Association are so fair and liberal that the most carping of critics can find nothing in them to cavil at. A hearty welcome is accorded the owners of all visiting boats by the club holding the regatta, and nothing can be more satisfactory than the system which so happily obtains in this present year of grace.

The benefits bestowed by this association on the yachtsmen of New York and Connecticut are rivaled by those offered to Eastern yachtsmen by the Yacht Racing Association of Massachusetts. Similar associations exist on the Lakes and the Pacific Coast, while the International Yacht Racing Union, established in 1897, promises to wield a powerful and benignant influence in the immediate future on the promotion of international matches, which, in the past, have proved so beneficial to the sport.

It may thus be deduced that the outlook for sound and thriving sport was never brighter or more promising than it is to-day. White sails of racing craft dot the waters of our coast line where the sport is practicable. In the inland lakes the pastime, too, is pursued with zeal and intelligence. The advance and progress made in the sport date, strange to say, from 1880, when what is known as the “cutter craze” first made itself manifest in this country. In the light of history it should be candidly conceded that the lessons learned from the Scotch cutters _Madge_, _Clara_ and _Minerva_ proved of incalculable benefit to the sport in America. Broad-minded Britishers will also admit that the victories of moderate and able compromise craft like _Puritan_ and _Mayflower_, combining the American breadth of beam and the centerboard with the British outside lead, over such representative English cutters as _Genesta_ and _Galatea_ caused the alteration of the British rule which penalized beam and which resulted in the building of vessels like _Britannia_, _Valkyrie_ and _Meteor_.

The adoption by the English of cotton duck for sails, and also of the Yankee laced mainsail, show how our transAtlantic cousins appreciate a good thing when its advantages are made manifest. The eager way in which they snapped up the Herreshoff fin-keel is further proof of the active interest the British designers take in the development of American yacht naval architecture and how keen they are to avail themselves of any new “wrinkles” in hull, sails or rigging that Yankee genius may invent.

And while the British eye is kept wide open in our direction, it must not be thought that we are blind to the doings of our rivals across the sea. The friendly feelings that have been enhanced between the two great English-speaking nations ever since the outbreak of the late war with Spain did much to make another race for the _America’s_ Cup possible and popular, and neither nation can afford to nap when the yachting supremacy of the sea is at stake.

Queen Victoria’s policy has ever been to encourage yacht racing, as the many Queen’s Cups she has presented to yacht clubs during her long reign abundantly prove. The most popular act of her life, so far as professional yacht sailors are concerned, took place on April 8, 1897, when she visited the Prince of Wales’ cutter _Britannia_, at Nice, and presented Capt. John Carter, her skipper, with the medal of the Victoria Order, accompanying the gift with a graceful compliment. In America the yachting fraternity, both amateur and professional, has received no encouragement whatever from the Congress, and is still subject to harassing legislation. This is much to be regretted, as it is without question bad and unwise policy.