Among the sailing-yachts that did not race, were—the Emily, Rev. C. H. Kimball, of Hartford, Conn.; and the Champlain, J. Armor Knox, of New York. The list would not be complete without a mention of three screw-yachts: the Sappho, owned and sailed by the ever-hospitable Dr. W. S. Webb; the Scionda, which knows every reef and bay of Champlain, under the guidance of the genial commodore, Jacob G. Sanders; and the Alexandria, upon whose decks and within whose cabins Mr. Alexander Macdonald, of St. Johns, dispensed true Canadian hospitality, and added much to the social features of the regatta by the presence of his guests, Mayor Macdonald, U. S. Consul Bertrand, and Mr. Charles Aspin, of St. Johns, and Judge Davidson, Col. and Mrs. Bond, Miss Bond, Miss Wood, and Miss Grant, of Montreal.
It is hoped, and rather expected, that another year we may see a race for steam yachts. The Sappho is 104 feet long, 15 feet beam and 7 feet 6 inches in draught. The Scionda is 98 feet long, 17 feet beam and 6 feet in draught. The Alexandria is about 85 feet long, with a beam and draught nearly the same as the Scionda. She is built not so much for speed as for porpoise and other fishing off the coast of Newfoundland, and all of her arrangements and appliances are of the most complete and compact kind. An engine, from Providence, R. I., gives the motive-power.
The new yacht club starts with all the advantages that the experience of the older clubs can offer. It is really the pioneer of strict yachting on the inland waters of the United States. Even on salt water the history of yachting commences with the New York Yacht Club less than fifty years ago; and all the developments of the present day date from within the past twenty years. The pioneer of clubs in New England, the Boston, was not formed till 1865. The South Boston was formed in 1868; and the Bunker Hill and the Portland in 1869. At the latter date there were only fifteen clubs in the United States—all of them on salt water. So the new club enters the lists not much behind the others in age, and with every inducement and opportunity to avoid their mistakes, and to profit by their success. In these days of steam-power the yachtsmen are the only ones left to keep alive the tone and vigor of the old-time seamanship which was the theme of song and story. And when the American navy finds its reserve—as it surely will—in the well-trained yachtsmen of the day, then the Champlain Club will offer aid that is worth having upon a lake that saw the transit of arms for more than 200 years.
But the Lake Champlain Yacht Club is thus early in the process of changing from its original design and scope. We have already seen how it has grown beyond the sharpie. In spite of schooner or barque rigs and lower freeboards and more cutter-like sterns the sharpies that entered the races showed that they were both out-pointed and out-footed by the sloops. In other words, they failed to hold that grip upon the water that all boats must have when beating. Their narrow beams also keep down the area of their sails. As racers, therefore, the regatta showed them to be failures—although they are safe, roomy and comfortable boats for cruising. The accident to the White Wings should not tell against the sharpie model, for even a broader beamed boat is liable to go over when a gybe comes along and the booms and the ballast are on the same side of the keel. In running before the wind, however, the sharpie proves to be a safe and a fairly speedy boat.
The other extreme—to which the club seems to be tending—is the salt-water sloop of the latest design. Such an one, the Nautilus, was expected to be ready for this regatta, but it will surely be on hand next year, prepared to beat all comers, if what is claimed can be proved. The hull floats a mile or two down the lake, and the spars and boom are laid aside till another season. Burgess, of Boston, finished the lines, and they are very nearly those of the Volunteer, the defender of the America’s Cup, but on a smaller scale. The length on deck is 53 feet, and on the waterline 40 feet. The beam is 15 feet and 3 inches, and the draught is 5 feet—or about 13 feet with the 12-foot center-board down. The color is white, but the gunwales are of oak, and the combings are of mahogany. Steel rigging is used. The mast is 42 feet high, and the topmast is 34 feet more, a total of 76 feet from the deck. From the step of the mast to the end of the bowsprit is 39 feet, while the boom is 47 feet long. This makes the lower edge of the sail-plan triangle 86 feet. With a single rig of sails spread the Nautilus will carry about 350 square yards, but if the flying-jib, the spinnaker, and other extra sails are included, the area will reach about 700 square yards.
Of course the building of the Nautilus is tentative. It remains to be seen whether as much sail area as can be spread to the steady breezes of salt water can be spread with profit, or even with safety, to the comparatively unsteady and uncertain winds of an inland lake that is surrounded by mountains. The American Canoe Association has proved, on a smaller scale, that big sails on a mountain-locked lake are to be avoided. Experience has shown that a moderate area of sail, well handled, wins the day; but there are times when a light wind gives the race to the man who has the largest area. The same experience is likely to come to the yacht club, and our prediction is that it will soon be shown that the Nautilus has too many and too large sails for her hull, and that by the time of the regatta in August she will appear with a smaller area. But if the Nautilus can go through the narrow pass in the lake known as Split Rock, with its varying currents of air and water, and its sudden and terrific squalls from off Whallon’s bay, then she can do anything; for that is the test of seamanship, according to the old sailors on the lake. Such a severe trial, however, should not be asked of the Nautilus, or of any other new boat that is built for the same purpose. Her mission is not so much to tempt Providence as to mark an era in the advancement of yachting upon the unsalted waters.
Whatever may be thought of Burlington as a place of winter resort, it is certain that it is developing into a more popular place for the passing of the warmer months. Instead of the winter carnivals we have not only yacht-racing, but all the other pleasures that the water can afford. While the principal rivers of the New York shore are bounded by rocks, those on the Vermont shore are bounded by long bars of sand. To the northward of Burlington the Lamoille sends out a long sand-bar on which, with a little assistance by men, a drive has been formed to one of the larger islands. It goes by the name of the Sandbar Bridge. Then there is the Winooski, or Onion River, which empties into the lake seven or eight miles south of the Lamoille River, and a mile or so north of Burlington. The river rises close to the Connecticut River, on the southern borders of Vermont breaks through the range of the Green Mountains and shows caves at Duxbury and many other points along the slope of the Camel’s Hump. The river, in fact, runs through the valley between Mansfield and the Camel’s Hump, and presents a series of surprises to the tourist.
Burlington was in the old seigniory of La Manaudiere on both sides of the Lamoille River, and belonged to Pierre Rainbault, who was one of the French victims at the time of the conquest of Canada by the English. Burlington has many beautiful spots, and the monuments to Lafayette and Allen are especially worth visiting. The isolated rock Dunder, only a mile or two off from the wharves, has always been an object of mystery, many claiming that it was the original boundary between the French and English Indians. Then there is Juniper Island, on which the United States has established a light-house, and the breakwater which forms the real harbor of the city except when, as occasionally happens, the waves break down the breakwater itself. Only a short distance down the lake are Shelburne town, and the neighboring resort known as Cedar Beach. Then we come to the extensive grounds, thousands of acres in area, recently purchased by the Vanderbilts and their connections, and now developed into most beautiful parks and all kinds of driveways, that would do credit to cities of much larger growth.
Indeed, Burlington is the city which Edward Everett Hale recently described as a fitting answer to Matthew Arnold’s strictures upon the homeliness of Americans and their surroundings. Mr. Hale spoke of the new hospital in Burlington, and its fund of half a million dollars, and said: “If this be a commonplace monument, let us thank God that we live in a commonplace land.” He spoke of the public library with its choice collections, and was informed that it was a question whether there were three or four paupers in the poorhouse. Then Mr. Hale went on to say: “This is so distinguished a condition of affairs that I should not dare tell that story in any social science congress in Europe. It would be set down as a Yankee exaggeration. People would say it was impossible. It is not impossible, because the men and women of Burlington have known how to give themselves to the administration of the wealth in common.”