The discomfort people will endure in the name of yachting, has always been a marvel to me. The less they know about the life on board, the more you will find they patiently put up with. They seem to think because they are on a yacht, cleanliness, cuisine, even elbow-room itself, should be entirely abjured. The miseries that rational, civilised human beings will suffer in this respect, is a constant source of wonder, to those who know how unnecessary they are. Not that these sufferers do not like yachting, for they are even persuaded to put their foot on board a yacht a second time after such experiences. It is only novices in the game, however, that you will find suffering these deprivations, for, believe me, there is no need for them. Do not overcrowd your vessel, or cut her accommodation up into about a dozen little cabins, into which you would not put a dog on land. You really require double the room for living afloat that you do ashore, as even your exercise has to be taken on board. There is nothing to prevent your having most home comforts, a boiling hot sea-water bath every morning, for example, and your meals served as well as they are in your own house. Neither need you have a bed only two feet wide, so that it is impossible to turn over without parting with the bedclothes. It is no longer necessary to go about on all fours, even in a 20-tonner, any size below which I would not recommend for a night's lodging.
DAPHNE AND LIL.
West and Son. Southsea.
It is the custom of builders to furnish a small saloon with gigantic sideboards, or lockers, as they are called. These are ugly, clumsy, superfluous impediments, which are only made into receptacles for every sort of rubbish, and take up an immense amount of room. There is no need to have your store cupboard in the drawing-room, as by a little ingenuity ample room can be devised in the pantry, and in a safe on deck. Another plan is to have a passage down the side from forward right away aft, which obviates the perpetual disturbance of the stewards passing through your sitting-room. There is then only one door, which necessarily makes a much cosier room. Unless you are an assured good sailor, do not be beguiled into occupying the "after cabin," which is likewise called the "ladies' cabin." How it earned this appellation I am at a loss to explain, as I was always brought up to suppose ladies came first, and if they are relegated to the after cabin they very decidedly come off second-best. There is twice the motion aft that there is in the middle of the vessel, and in a steamer you feel twice the vibration, beside being right over the screw.
How one gets spoilt! I remember sailing about as proud as Punch in an old Itchen ferry boat, with ragged sails and tarred topsides. The distances we used to cover, and the weather we went through in this old Zephyr are a wonder to look back upon. The whole day, from nine in the morning till nine at night, used to be spent on board, and the experience never palled, as far as I remember. Large lunches were always provided, in case of our getting becalmed, or stuck on the mud, both very frequent occurrences. We were always out to tea, and to boil the kettle in a choppy sea was the great excitement. There was only a kind of dog-hole place forward, where this important function took place. It was a severe test for the best "sailor" to balance a hot lamp, head over ears in methylated spirits, the hot fumes of which inundated the small cabin, while she patiently waited till the water boiled.
It was even worse at night, when a smelly paraffin lamp which would have made the atmosphere almost unbearable ashore, had to be endured, and in a small and lively boat was certainly trying. When we were "caught out" on our way home from some long expedition, the unfortunate women of the party used to be thrust into this salubrious resort, ostensibly for their own comfort, really and truly, to get them out of the way. That was a place, when there were half a dozen women in there, a paraffin lamp, and the door shut! If one of us ventured so much as to open a chink of door, it was instantly shut again, with such exclamations from our male tyrants as—"Whatever you want to come out for, into all this wet and cold, when you can be warm and cosy in there, I can't think," upon which the brow-beaten female crawled back disconsolate into her lair, muttering rebelliously. And yet we were nothing daunted. Out we would be again with the dawn, to go through all the same thing without a dissenting thought.
We had not even the luxury of a paid hand in those days, my brother, and my sisters and myself doing all the work, which was a splendid education in more ways than one. I reluctantly confess I am spoilt for this sort of thing now, though I shall always look back upon the time with pleasure, and I very much doubt if it was not one of the most enjoyable experiences in my life. It was all so new, so different from inland amusements, and I then learnt that a sea life has a charm all its own.
In 1888 we hired a 40-ton old-fashioned yawl called the Fox, with which we went in for the regular stereotyped cruising, as generally accepted. It was not a success, and I cannot say I enjoyed it. My back was always aching from stooping, and there was a permanent bruise on my head from constant impact with the beams. Besides, we were always being thwarted in our most urgent desires by the weather—as the skipper said—really by the incompetence of the vessel to cope with the elements. It was never worth while for instance starting with a head wind, as the time the yawl would take in accomplishing any distance, would have worn even Job's patience to a shadow.
Of course we share the sailor's love of fishing, and two large trawlers have been built at Brixham, by my brother and brother-in-law, for the special purpose. The Goddess was a huge great yawl, most comfortable below, and a grand sea boat. We did plenty of trawling in her, miles outside the Eddystone, and made some grand hauls. She had an enormous great trawl-beam, and steam to get it with. Night was the best time for fishing, and we were not spared if we happened to be enjoying our beauty sleep, when the momentous four hours were up. The row of course would have awaked the dead, and so we scrimmaged into our clothes and rushed on deck ready to claw the great net on board. A waterproof overall and indiarubber boots were essential for this performance, and old gauntlet gloves were a precaution against stinging fish, advisable for the uninitiated. What a grand sight it was. Picture a bright moonlight night, when you were alone on the great rolling ocean, nothing in sight except perhaps the fitful gleam of the Eddystone in the far distance. The great vessel with shortened sail, dipping and curtseying to the proud billows which toyed with her bulky form, as though it was nothing more than a feather. Then amidst great shouting and racket, the huge trawl-beam was brought slowly alongside, and the heavy net was clawed on board full of treasures from "the hallowed precincts of the deep." What a flippering was there, from whiting, soles, red mullet, etc., etc. What wonderful curiosities do live in Davey Jones' locker. All kinds of leggy, finny, and jelly mollusca, none of them very appetising in appearance, and most of them imbued with some formidable means of defence, such as a sting or a prickle. Once we got two enormous dog-fish, measuring five foot long, they were a great nuisance, as they cut the net all to pieces and were no good to man or beast.