V.

DUTY AND DISCIPLINE AFLOAT. THE SHIP’S COMPANY IN DETAIL FROM THE SKIPPER TO THE SEA-COOK.

To cruise with pleasure from port to port and to win races—the yacht owner must remember that he can do neither unless his sailing-master thoroughly understands his business. Whether amateur or professional, the skipper must be a man of dash and daring tempered with a modest _soupçon_ of discretion, active, vigilant, with his weather eye wide open at all times and seasons. He must have the knack of handling men so as to get every foot-pound of energy out of them that is in them. He should be a strict, but not necessarily a stern, disciplinarian; and he should have sufficient diplomatic instinct in his make-up to know when to wink at a slight lapse on the part of a generally capable and faithful blue-jacket.

The personnel of the racing yacht is of the greatest importance, and, if not of the best, the career of the vessel is not likely to be crowned with the laurels of success. The man in command must have the rare gift of personal magnetism, the art of inspiring enthusiasm, of compelling victory. A cool head is no less necessary than are nerves of steel. He must be a splendid helmsman, a good practical seaman and skillful navigator.

A man possessed of all these attributes commands high wages and deserves all he can get. The discipline of his yacht is perfect. Everything goes with the precision of clockwork, at sea or in port. He is prepared for every emergency that may arise when at anchor or under way, and is never caught napping. Keeping a watchful eye on the interests of his owner, he is also careful of his crew, being fully aware of the evil consequences of a discontented forecastle, and knowing that sulky or surly sailors never yet were conducive to the capturing of sea trophies. A good skipper must therefore be a good judge of human nature, alive to the idiosyncrasies and frailties of sailors, who have in good sooth as many whims and vagaries as silly schoolgirls in the transition stage of development. In fact he should be quite a past master in the cunning art of “jollying along.” It is astonishing what a number of men there are who possess all these qualifications. Modest, unassuming men, skillful navigators and seamen they will prove to be, and you can avail yourself of their services for a moderate compensation.

There is no fixed scale of wages for a yacht skipper. The sailing-master of a large steam yacht may be paid $3,000 a year, while the skipper of a racing 51-footer might think himself lucky if he gets $80 a month with the prospect of being paid off when the yacht goes out of commission. This practice of engaging a skipper for the season seems to me to be short-sighted policy. It cannot be expected that a captain hired for three months only will take more than a passing interest in the vessel. He would be more than human if he lay awake nights, scheming how to save his owner money. Whereas, an honest, conscientious skipper, assured of receiving living wages all the year round, will more than earn his salary by the extra care he takes of the yacht. He naturally looks upon the vessel as a prime source of revenue. He realizes that it is to his interest to run her as economically as possible, to keep her in thorough repair and order at the least possible cost, to make life aboard her as pleasant as possible to his owner and his guests, to win as many prizes as he can if the boat is a racer, or if simply a cruiser to get her talked about for a phenomenally fast passage from one port to another, for beating a rival of approximate size by a handsome margin, or for successfully reaching her destination in a heavy blow, when other boats were glad to scud under bare poles for a harbor. These little acts if performed with tact, make an owner prouder than ever of his yacht and more appreciative of the services of his skipper.

Permit me to illustrate. A friend of mine several winters ago purposed to buy a schooner and fit her out for a West Indian cruise. He provided himself with a number of tickets of admission to several vessels laid up in a dock at South Brooklyn. He invited me to accompany him on a prospecting tour. It was a dirty day, sleet, snow and wind being the objectionable features that confronted us.

Our first port of call was the office of the dock, where we found a man in charge who examined our credentials and sent to a neighboring tavern for the “ship-keeper,” who he said had “gone to lunch.” In about half an hour this functionary made his appearance, and piloted us to the pier where several schooners which we desired to look at were moored. We boarded the first on our list, a cruising vessel of some celebrity, whose owner desired to sell her, as he was building a steamer. The decks were deep with water, the scuppers being obstructed. Everywhere were signs of disgraceful neglect. The binnacle was a mass of verdigris. Costly and artistic wood carving was without protection from the weather. The handsome companionway of mahogany was without a canvas cover. Going below we found everything mildewed and musty. The bedding in the berths was damp. Water trickled from the deck beams. What really had been a most attractive interior presented an appearance of dampness most dispiriting, as well as every evidence of decay. It was indeed pitiable to see such a fine vessel in so sad a plight. We passed on, and inspected two other craft whose condition was only slightly better, and which presented few attractions from a purchaser’s point of view.

The next yacht we visited was in marked contrast to the others. A handsome, sunburned man greeted us at the gangway, and after we had explained our mission, invited us below. He was the captain of the schooner, he told us, and was spending the winter aboard of her. Stepping down into the cabin we saw a snug and cozy saloon, a cheerful fire burning in the open grate, everything bright and spick and span, as though the yacht was in Newport at the height of the season. A pretty young woman was at work at a sewing machine, while a pampered Persian cat basked luxuriously on a handsome rug in front of the fire.

“This is my wife, gentlemen,” he said, and then he showed us all over the vessel from right forward to right aft. The staterooms were in perfect order, not a sign of damp or mildew anywhere. Everything was clean and spotless as a new pin. We found that the skipper had been in charge of the yacht from the day of her launch, that he and the steward and a boy lived on her every winter and kept her in thorough order outside and inside.

We were shown the logs of several deep-water cruises she had made, together with track charts of the voyages. We were entertained with an intelligent and interesting description of the yacht’s behavior in a hurricane off Bermuda, given with a wealth of seamanlike detail, which we both hugely enjoyed. It was evident that the skipper was a firm believer in his boat, and that he had tended her with care and loving kindness from her christening to that day. He explained that his owner had married a woman who hated the sea, and that the vessel was in the market at a reasonable price.

That schooner now flies my friend’s private signal, and that same skipper is still her sailing-master, and, according to his employer, is worth his weight in gold. This practical illustration may demonstrate the advantage of employing a sailing-master by the year and not by the season.

Every word I have written about a skipper applies, in the case of a steam yacht, to the engineer. And if possible, still more strongly, for the deterioration of marine engines left without care or protection is both rapid and, I need hardly add, costly in the extreme.

I strongly advise a yacht owner who thinks he has the skill and knowledge requisite for the command of a yacht, to assume command himself and dispense with the services of a professional sailing-master. Let him ship a competent man as mate and give him to understand that his duty is to carry out the owner’s orders, and simply to act as executive officer. It is impossible that a yacht can have two captains and turn out a cup winner. Jacob found two wives in the same house quite incompatible; and the discipline of a racing craft with the owner and the sailing-master both issuing commands at the same time is not unlikely to be lax, and with lax discipline races cannot be won.

The treatment of the sailing-master by the yacht owner varies according to the temperament and disposition of the latter. A gentleman is incapable of rudeness to an employé—especially to a man holding so responsible a position, and in charge of such a valuable piece of personal property as a yacht. The judicious owner always treats his skipper with respect. If he desires to preserve proper discipline aboard, he will let the crew see that the captain has his entire confidence. The owner, therefore, should always give his orders to the skipper, who will then communicate them to the crew. For instance, if he wants a boat lowered he should not sing out to the crew to lay aft and lower the launch. That would be a grave breach of yachting etiquette. The correct course to pursue is to tell the captain that he wants the boat, and leave to him the issuance of the necessary commands for the carrying out of his wish. This may seem a small matter, but it is really of importance. If neglected, it is subversive of discipline. The owner should always address the master as Mr. ——, never as “Skipper” or “Cap,” as is too often the case aboard a certain class of craft conducted after slipshod methods. The men should always address the sailing-master, and also the mate, as “Sir,” and no departure from this rule should be tolerated. The sailing-master should be held responsible for any breach of discipline on the part of the crew, and his authority should always be sustained by the owner.

I have seen more than one sailing-master who, not content with tyrannizing over the crew, held the owner in complete subjection. It may be readily surmised what kind of worms these owners were. But take yacht skippers by and large, the average is worthy of confidence and respect. The percentage of black sheep among them is almost infinitesimal. The same remark applies to the mates and the men.

The following hints to sailing-masters were written by a dyspeptic martinet of a yacht owner, but there is much good sense in them. They are hung up in his sailing-master’s berth:

1.— Never curse the crew. The owner will do all the swearing.

2.— Should the owner or any of his guests not use tobacco, never smoke to windward of him or them. Have the goodness to step to leeward.

3.— Always be at the gangway when the owner comes alongside. No matter how warm it may be, do not receive him in your shirt-sleeves.

4.— Have a memorandum of all the stores in your department. Do not rashly answer, “There is none on board,” without consulting your list when asked for an article required.

5.— There are yachts afloat whose owners are run by the sailing-masters. This yacht is governed differently.

6.— If the sailing-master is at any time dissatisfied with the owner or the yacht he has an unfailing remedy, and the sooner he avails himself of it the better.

7.— The owner trusts that pleasant relations will always prevail between the sailing-master and himself.

Having secured your skipper let him ship the crew. If your yacht is a large vessel you will need a mate. In the interest of harmony it is advisable to let the skipper have some say in the matter of his selection. It will be advisable to look over his credentials, with a view to finding out if he is competent to take charge of the vessel in the event of any accident befalling the captain. If you contemplate a blue-water voyage, be careful that the mate is a navigator and has the requisite license. If deprived of the services of your skipper by any unforeseen cause, it would be awkward to find yourself, say, a thousand miles from land, with nobody aboard capable of finding the vessel’s position otherwise than by dead reckoning—a hit or miss method always unreliable.

The wages of mates vary. Some of them are paid $10 or $15 a month more than the men, whose pay ranges between $25 and $30 a month. This is much more than is paid to English yacht sailors, who have to feed themselves out of their pay.

The mate’s duty is to take charge of the yacht when the master is below. When the master is on deck the mate’s station is forward. He superintends the setting, taking in and trimming of sails, and in a general way carries out the skipper’s orders. He is a very important man in a race, for then the captain’s place is at the helm and the mate is responsible for the proper working of the vessel and the prompt setting of balloon sails. If any of the running gear gets foul or parts he is tolerably certain of a brisk dressing-down, especially if the mishap causes the loss of the race. The reason of this is because he has charge of all the gear and sails and spars, and is responsible for their being always in good condition.

The mate superintends the work of getting under way, sees the head-sails clear for hoisting, looks after the windlass, sees that the hose is played on the chain cable if the vessel has brought up on muddy bottom. Also when coming to anchor he sees that the mud-hook is clear for letting go, all halyards ready for lowering, booms in good shape for swinging out, and the boats in good condition for lowering. The captain is in command of the starboard watch, and the mate takes hold of the port watch. In long runs the watches are set as in ocean steamers, the men taking two-hour tricks at the helm and the same on the lookout.

The mate, as executive officer, superintends the washing down of the decks in the morning, and is held responsible for the yacht’s ship-shape appearance. If any “Irish pennants” are seen towing overboard or if there is a speck of dirt anywhere to be found, the mate is brought up with a round turn. A good mate is invaluable, and if he and the sailing-master work in harmony together, the yacht, so far as discipline is concerned, will be perfect, and the vessel will be a pleasant one for all hands. The mate in large steam yachts has generally the charge of the launch, bringing aboard guests and taking them ashore. It is imperative that he should have a thorough knowledge of the art of boat-handling and that he should be a smart, all-round man in every detail.

Only very large craft carry a boatswain. His duty is to care for the rigging and “pipe the side.” Personally, I like to hear the cheery sound of his whistle. It reminds me of old times. The boatswain nowadays finds no occupation for his “call” on a racing craft.

Great Britain and the United States are the leading yachting nations of the world. The yachting flags of both countries have been seen in nearly every harbor of the globe. France, Italy and Germany have during the last decade made some noticeable progress in the pastime, but neither in racing nor in cruising have they accomplished anything of real significance.

For instance, how galling must it have been to the patriotic pride of the German Emperor to be forced to sail his imperial racing cutter, _Meteor_, designed by a Scotchman and built on the Clyde, with a crew of Hampshire and Essex sailors. But stern necessity compelled him. The German seaman has many merits, but he doesn’t show up to advantage aboard a racing cutter. One would have thought that the Emperor would have trained a crew of Germans especially for the task, but the idea either did not occur to him or was judged not to be feasible.

He might have followed the example of our countryman, Mr. C. Oliver Iselin, the managing owner of the _Defender_, who in 1895 turned the tables on certain of his British critics, who had declared that no American crew could possibly beat the trained British yacht sailors who formed the crew of the _Valkyrie_. These seamen, all hailed from Wivenhoe or Brightlingsea in Essex, had sailed in cutter yachts in the summer and cutter-rigged fishing smacks in the winter from boyhood, and were indeed the flower of the racing sailors of England. Captain Cranfield, one of the smartest skippers afloat, had drilled them for several seasons. They were pronounced invincible by recognized authorities.

In previous contests for the _America’s_ cup the crews of the _Puritan_, _Mayflower_, _Volunteer_ and _Vigilant_ were composed largely of Scandinavians, concerning whose ability as seamen I have nothing to say except in praise. It was the general idea that without the Scandinavian element the battle was lost. Mr. Iselin undertook to expose the fallacy of this notion. Without disparagement of the excellent yacht sailors hailing from Danish, Swedish or Norwegian ports, he determined to prove practically that the native-born American sailor, when properly licked into shape, makes as fine a yachtsman as ever trod a deck or broke a biscuit.

Accordingly Captain Haff was sent to Maine, and there the veteran skipper shipped an American crew worthy of the saucy Stripes and Stars—active young fellows who had never sailed on pleasure craft but had followed the sea on fishing schooners and coasting vessels. After being drilled by Captain Haff for a few weeks they became as smart and efficient a crew as ever tailed on to a mainsheet or manned club-topsail halyards.

I had many opportunities of comparing them with their British opponents, and I pledge you my word as a sailor and a gentleman that one crew was as smart as the other in setting or shortening sail and in all marine manœuvres. It was a surprise to many, but nobody was more astonished than Captain Cranfield, who admiringly admitted the ability and efficiency of the boys from Maine who manned the _Defender_.

This achievement opened the eyes of the British critics and showed them of what our raw material is capable. It was also a surprise to many of our racing skippers, who were laboring under the delusion that Scandinavian sailors alone are capable of manning our yachts. Never was a greater error. The native-born American, when properly trained, makes as smart a yacht sailor as ever walked a deck.

Most of these Maine sailors, judging from their names, belonged to the great Anglo Saxon race whose deeds afloat are written on the bright pages of sea history. America has reason to be proud of her seafaring ancestors. The infallible law of heredity and the no less assured principle of the survival of the fittest have been well exemplified among the dwellers on the British coasts. The bold sea-dogs of the West Country to-day are fitting successors to those sturdy semi-pirates who under the flag of Frobisher, of Drake, of Raleigh and of Hawkins shed so much glory on the nation they upheld and so much of the enemy’s life-blood. The smugglers and privateers of the southern and eastern coasts may justly be classed as the progenitors of our racing yachtsmen. For be it remembered that speed was the prime necessity of their means of livelihood. The contests between revenue cutters and luggers were continuous struggles for sea supremacy. If a lugger was captured by a cutter, the keel of what was hoped to be a still faster lugger was laid, and so the war went on. British privateers generally got the best of their Gallic opponents. Nelson crushed Great Britain’s foes at sea as effectually as Wellington defeated her enemies ashore.

In the war of 1812 America proved her naval superiority by many a heroic deed. Until the devastating cruise of the _Alabama_ our mercantile marine was our national pride. It is true that our mercantile fleet of to-day is by no means what it ought to be, but it is also a fact that our fine coasters and fishing vessels, although manned by a large percentage of foreigners, are, as a rule, commanded by native-born Americans. Those of our countrymen who follow the sea for a livelihood soon rise in their profession. The somewhat scanty emoluments offered are sufficient reasons for deterring the average ambitious American youth from seeking his fortune afloat, but should more liberal inducement ever be offered, the sea-loving Yankee will be to the fore again.

That the raw material is at hand was proven by the adaptability of the Maine men to be transformed into efficient yachtsmen in so short a time. Had the Emperor of Germany tried to convert some of his seafaring subjects into a crew for the _Meteor_, he might have met with a far different result.

Sailors are a queer lot, and good ones are to be found in every maritime country. In their native climes a crew of lascars, hard as nails and agile as monkeys, cannot be surpassed. Ship them aboard a vessel bound to the English Channel and due there in midwinter, and you might just as well have a ship’s company of frozen earwigs. In the Bay of Bengal, blow high or blow low, you couldn’t wish for smarter sailors. I speak from personal knowledge, having had command of a smart schooner engaged in a certain lucrative trade on the Coromandel coast and in the China seas, the precise nature of which I decline to divulge, but which called for quick work. Never have I sailed with a more satisfactory crew than Abdool, the Serang, and his twenty alert followers. They made that schooner talk. In the Bay of Biscay they would have been as useless as a dead steam-engine. They were the most economical sailors I ever knew—five rupees a month and a modest ration consisting principally of curry and rice. I wonder in what seas my faithful Abdool and his lithe and dusky shipmates are cruising to-day, for I am writing of thirty years ago, when I was a little spryer on my pins than I am at present.

The selection of a crew, especially for a deep-water cruise likely to be of long duration, is an important piece of business. The skilled skipper, from long experience, possesses the instinctive faculty of picking out the right men from a small army of applicants. This, too, without any unnecessary delay. A short talk, a glance at papers, and the trick is done. A sea lawyer has no chance of being shipped. The skipper detects him at once. He knows that breed. The inexperienced yacht owner cannot appreciate what troubles he is saved from by the wise selection of his ship’s company. One sea lawyer with the pestilent gift of the gab will infect a whole forecastle full of honest and well-meaning men, just as one sheep with the rot will taint a sound and healthy flock. The incessant wagging of his jaw, his perpetual growlings like a bear with a sore head, are as likely as not to breed a mutiny, or, at any rate, to make a floating hell of that part of the vessel that is forward of the foremast. Such a man will grumble even if he gets roast beef and plum duff three times a day and a “nobbler” of rum every hour of the twenty-four.

It is well, therefore, to exercise due care in shipping your crew if bound on a globe-circling expedition. Some owners insist that candidates for berths aboard their ships shall undergo a medical examination, in order to make sure that they are physically fit for a long voyage. This is, in my opinion, a wise course to pursue, for sickness at sea is like a wet blanket on the pleasure of a voyage, and no owner wants to ship a sailor unfit to fulfil the duties for which he signs articles.

A crew intended for the usual coastwise cruising and racing, taking part in all the events of the season for which the yacht is eligible, should, of course, be selected with care. You will often see the same crew stick to a yacht for years. They are paid off at the close of the season, get through the winter as best they can, some of them subsisting on their summer savings, others shipping on coasting vessels or fishing craft, or even finding odd jobs to do ashore. When the yacht goes into commission at the beginning of the following summer, there they are to be found aboard of her, and ready for anything that may turn up. Smart and steady men are always in demand, and when they leave the yacht in the fall they get the tip from the sailing-master to report for duty in the spring.

The prudent yacht owner, when preparing for a deep-water voyage, should ship a crew as small as possible for the proper working of the vessel. Every device for the economizing of labor should be adopted. In these days, when a crew of six, all told, sail a big fore-and-aft cargo schooner, a large ship’s company is not absolutely necessary aboard a yacht of moderate size. It is easier to keep a small crew in good health than a large one, especially when cruising in the tropics. The necessarily limited space at the disposal of the “jackies,” in spite of all the modern contrivances for their convenience and comfort, causes some forecastles to be unhealthy. Without taking into consideration the saving of money in the wages of men not absolutely necessary for the handling of the yacht, the owner is likely to get more solid comfort out of a small, contented crew of picked men than he would out of a large, injudiciously selected crowd of sailors. The fewer the mouths to feed the more stores and water for each can be carried. Personally, I would rather have twelve good men to work a large schooner, than a score of indifferent lubbers and skulkers masquerading under the names of able or ordinary seamen.

These may seem to be revolutionary notions in these days of kid-gloved skippers and large crews. But let us go back half a century or so, and see what the custom was in the brave old days of the Yankee schooner _America_. In her historical voyage to England in 1851 she was commanded by Captain “Dick” Brown, with Nelson Comstock as mate, and only six men before the mast. Messrs. George Steers, James Steers and young Henry Steers were the passengers, and these, of course, lent a hand when required. But there were no more cats aboard than could catch mice.

The _Sappho_, a much larger schooner, sailed from New York to Falmouth in July, 1868, the time of her passage being fourteen days. She was in charge of Captain T. P. Baldwin, a retired merchant skipper, two mates, and six men before the mast, none of whom were yacht sailors. Judging from the logs of these two representative schooners, no difficulty was experienced in handling them, and both made excellent passages, the _America_ reaching Havre in seventeen days and a half, in spite of the retarding circumstance that she carried only the small sails of the pilot boat _Mary Taylor_, a wonderfully fast schooner built by Mr. George Steers.

Mr. E. F. Knight, the English yachtsman, has some very sensible things to say on this subject, and, as he speaks from wide experience, my readers will be interested in his remarks. He says:

“It is my opinion that there should not be a single yacht sailor on board the foreign-cruising 50-tonner. It is difficult to get the right ones, and it will be bad for the owner if he fall in with the wrong ones—men who have been spoilt by foolish employers, for instance; a numerous class, I fear. We all know them. Smart-looking fellows enough, maybe, but shirkers of honest work. They prefer to ship on show yachts belonging to owners who like to exhibit themselves and their vessels in the fashionable yachting ports each season, but who are not sailors in any sense of the word, and have no real love of the sport, following it only for the swagger of the thing. Men who have served such owners would prove a great nuisance on an ocean cruise, and would not be likely to go far. I have heard such hands grumbling on a friend’s yacht because they had to pass one night at sea instead of in some port where they happened to have friends. They look to frequent tips from the ‘governor’s’ visitors, and to other less legitimate perquisites. These they cannot get in mid-Atlantic, so it is not the place for them.

“Hands from fishing-boats, sailing barges and small coasters, are the best men for the foreign cruiser of small tonnage. Among these, one is not likely to come across spoilt and pampered mariners, and they are accustomed to roughing it, and to the shifts of short-handed craft. But were I undertaking a lengthened tropical voyage I think I should ship my English crew simply for the run over to my first West Indian or South American port, and there engage a negro crew. These blacks are excellent fore-and-aft sailors, easy to manage, and always happy and ready for any amount of hard work, if kindly but firmly treated; while they are, of course, far better fitted than white men to withstand the debilitating influence of sultry climates, an influence, which, as everyone knows, has caused the ruin of many a good British sailor, driving hitherto sober men to injure their health by excess whenever they get shore leave.”

Sir Edward Sullivan, Bart., who saw the _America_ win the cup that bears her name, over the Cowes course in 1851, and has been a devotee of the sport ever since, says: “Yacht sailors, as a rule, are sober, honest, obliging, goodtempered, original. During the many years I have yachted I have had crews from north, east, west, and south, and I have almost without exception found them the same. A man must be hard to please, indeed, if after a three or four months’ cruise, he does not part from his crew with regret, and with a genuine wish that they may meet again. Amongst yachting skippers I have come across some of the most honorable, trustworthy, honest men I have met in any class of life, men who knew their duty and were always willing and anxious to do it. The chief peculiarity of all the seafaring class that I have been brought into contact with, is their entire freedom from vulgarity. They are obliging to the utmost of their power, but never cringing or vulgar.

“The winter half of their lives is spent in fishing-boats or coasters, or sea voyages, where they have to face dangers and hardships that must be experienced to be realized. As a rule they are religious, and their preparations for the Sabbath, their washings and soapings and brushings, show with what pleasure they welcome its recurrence. Yacht minstrelsy, with its accordion, its songs of twenty verses, its never-ending choruses, its pathos, is a thing of itself. Some day, perhaps, some Albert Chevalier will make it fashionable. Such as they are, I know of no class of Englishmen superior, if any be equal, to the sailors who man our yachts. Of course, there are sharks, or at any rate dogfish, in all waters, but where the good so immensely outnumber the bad, that man must be a fool indeed who gets into wrong hands.”

With these sentiments I most cordially concur.

The yacht owner will engage his cook and his steward to suit himself. Some seagoing _chefs_ of steam yachts get bigger pay than a commodore in the navy, while many stewards have grown wealthy out of their perquisites. With these men I have nothing to do. They belong to the owner exclusively, so let him deal with them as he may see fit. The ship’s cook, however, is a most important functionary, and every canny skipper tries to ship a thorough “tip-topper,” who will feed the boys “high,” while at the same time taking care of the owner’s interests by guarding against waste. A cook of genius will on a pinch “create” a savory dinner for all hands out of what may appear a most unpromising batch of materials, and I am glad to say that cooks of genius are by no means scarce. The Japs make excellent cooks, and so do the Portuguese. Hungry sailors go in for hearty fare. Beef and beans, pork and peas, clam chowder, roast joints, and plenty of fresh vegetables are their principal dishes, but they by no means despise the ice cream and the cabin delicacies which fall to their lot on cruises when there is a heavy sea, and landsmen feel more like throwing up their commissions than taking in ballast.

“The internal economy of a yacht,” says Sir Edward Sullivan, “constitutes one of its greatest charms. Your cook with only a little stove for which a shore cook would scarcely find any use will send you up an excellent dinner cooked to perfection for any number of guests. And the steward! who can describe the work of a yacht’s steward? I doubt whether Briareus with his hundred hands could do more than a steward does with two. At seven in the morning he is ashore for the milk, and the breakfast, and the letters, and the flowers; he valets half-a-dozen people, prepares half-a-dozen baths, brushes heaven knows how many clothes, gets the breakfast, makes the beds, cleans the plate, tidies the cabin, provides luncheon, five o’clock tea, dinner, is always cheerful, obliging, painstaking, and more than repaid if occasionally he gets a _petit mot_ of compliment or congratulation. When he ever sleeps or eats I never can tell; and far from grumbling at his work he often resents the assistance of any shore-going servant.”

I have quoted the above at length because it is in my judgment the best description of a _good_ cook and a _good_ steward ever written. What yachtsman cannot testify to the truth of every word? I have sailed with a _bad_ cook and an utterly worthless and incompetent steward, and my imperfect knowledge of the English language does not permit of my adequately describing the inevitable horrors and discomforts attending the martyrdom of my shipmates and myself. Therefore let us draw the curtain down on the unsavory subject. But nevertheless let us resolve in the interest of our brother yachtsmen never to give a misleading recommendation or certificate of character to either a bad cook or a worthless steward. If the first-named is a “grub-spoiler” masquerading under the guise of a _chef_, and the other is a sham and a fraud, hesitate not to brand them correctly and thus prevent them from imposing on others. Have backbone!

In England there is a regular schedule of racing wages—a system which has not been adopted as yet in this country. The skipper gets five per cent. or ten per cent. of the value of the prize won, while every member of the crew is given $5 if you win and $2.50 if you lose. In addition to this expense, bounteous supplies of beef, soft tack and beer are generously dispensed on race days, while on other occasions the crew supply their own rations.

The life of a yacht sailor is by no means hard. From twenty to thirty dollars a month and good grub should be attractive to the foreigners who, for the most part, man our pleasure fleet, and who would earn considerably less than half that sum in the vessels of their native mercantile navy. There are so many smart and deserving men in the market, that a yacht owner has no difficulty whatever in engaging a satisfactory ship’s company.

[Illustration: [Yacht fender]]