More, probably, could be written on boat-sailing than on any other sport; for this pursuit owes much of its extraordinary fascination to the fact that its science is practically infinite; the most experienced sailor has always something new to learn, and is ever acquiring fresh wrinkles. Of all inanimate objects a boat is surely the most beloved of its owner; there is something almost human in its ways and vagaries; and whereas it is possible to conceive the attainment of perfection in the design of the instrument employed in any other sport, the complexity of the problem involved in producing the ablest craft renders improvement ever possible, and the sailing of a boat is not more fascinating than the designing of one.
It is easy to acquire the art of sailing a boat under favourable circumstances; but it is only after considerable experience that the sailor is able to do the right thing promptly in the various emergencies which he is sure to encounter. The tyro will soon discover that the more he knows the more he has left to learn, and if once he commences to acquire this knowledge of seamanship, he will be thirsty for more, and he will never weary of his favourite sport all the days of his life.
This book is intended for the tyro, and in it, therefore, only the more necessary and elementary portions of nautical science will be treated of.
In the first place, he must have his boat, and to assist him in the selection of this is no easy task—so much depends on the idiosyncrasy of the tyro, the character of the waters he proposes to navigate, and other circumstances. It may be safely premised that he cannot possibly know what sort of boat will best satisfy his needs, and as his more experienced friends have each their separate views as to what he should procure in the way of a craft—their views of course depending not on his, but on their separate idiosyncrasies—it is many chances to one that, whether he follows the friend’s advice or his own inexperienced inclination, he will not in the first instance obtain the boat he really requires. It is, indeed, as an old salt remarked, as impossible to choose for another man the boat that will suit him as to pick out a wife for him; and some men—good sailors too—never succeed in mating themselves with the right craft, but are perpetually building or buying and selling again without ever satisfying themselves.
We, therefore, recommend the novice not to be over-ambitious at first. Let him content himself with a modest and inexpensive craft until he has acquired at least the rudiments of the art of sailing, and is better capable of deciding what he wants. Of course, if he has friends who own boats, on board which he can pass his apprenticeship, so much the better; but we have observed that as soon as a young fellow is bitten with a taste for sailing, he—small blame to him—insists on having a boat of his very own, and will take little pleasure in the boat of another.
In recommending the novice to content himself at first with a cheap boat, we of course do not mean a cheap bad boat, not one of those extraordinary bargains one comes across in the advertisement columns of the newspapers—a five-ton yacht, for instance, going for the ridiculous sum of five pounds, an ancient hull patched up with paint and putty, which will certainly cause much heartburning to the innocent novice who acquires possession of her, and will probably so disgust him that he will abandon yachting altogether. For first she requires a new mast, then she must have new sails, then it is found necessary to re-timber her, possibly re-deck her, and then, after twenty times the purchase-money has been spent upon her, it is discovered that the hull is so rotten that it were madness to put to sea in her at all; so all the expense has been for nothing, and the great bargain slowly falls to pieces, neglected, on a mud flat.
The following hints may prove of some service to a novice who, despite what we have said, determines to commence his aquatic career by purchasing a second-hand yacht, without having a friend who can assist him in the examination of a vessel.
Though a craft will often be found to be as sound after thirty years or more as on the day she was launched, still if sappy wood was used in her construction, or if she has been neglected while lying up, she may become utterly worthless in less than ten years.
In surveying an old vessel, soft spots can be detected by thrusting a penknife into the wood.
Those streaks of her planking that are between wind and water, alternately dry and wet will generally rot first.