 Chapter 7 of A Water Biography by Robert C. Leslie This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Chapter 7 Keel of Rip Van Winkle laid and shed built over it. Sawyers at work, getting timber to pit, etc. Reasons for and against a clench-built yacht. How to ensure sleep on board one. The designing of the RVW. How her molds were connected with church restoration. We begin to make a show in the dockyard. And gentile people and nautical men visit it. And Admiral does so. His advice. A retired ship owner's criticisms. The bolt builder criticizes his critics. Why the RVW took some time to build? Steam called to our aid. The persuader. Riveting. Its effect upon visitors. Plan of RVW inside, etc. Getting a mast for her. I go in foam to Aixmouth after a spar. Find one, and after some trouble, pay for it. Toe it to Sidmouth. Strange behavior of spar on the voyage. Conant and I cut out some sails. Difficulties to be overcome in launching the RVW. How met, etc. Engage a crew for her. Invaluable qualities of William Barron. The keel of the Rip Van Winkle in the meantime still lays sleeping in the meadow opposite Sidhouse. And here it may be well to inform young readers ignorant of the properties of wood used by their grandfathers in shipbuilding that Elm destined for underwater purposes even in the royal dockyards was not kept long seasoning before being converted into keel pieces or a bottom plank. It was, however, not till autumn that the yacht's keel was really laid in place under a temporary shed or roof 50 feet by 20 feet in a piece of ground rented for the purpose behind the eastern end of the Esplanade. This spot formed part of a coal and timber yard and had large, convenient sawpits close at hand. Unlike a house, one of the first cares of the prudent shipbuilder is his roof or deck, material for which should all be cut out and even planed as long as possible before it is wanted. One of the first things, therefore, after starting the foundations of the yacht was to select a clean balk of yellow pine and have it sawn into deck plank which we planed on both sides and then carefully stowed away to dry. Some may ask here, but what can two men do in the way of converting timber into yacht? The answer is that all the heavier part of such conversion is done on the sawpit or by the sawmill and that the actual work of a civilized boatbuilder is upon plank and sided timber. That is, after it is cut of a certain thickness or technically sided so many inches. The yachtbuilder then placing his delicately curved molds upon it and after lining it by them working it to the required form with handsaw and adds unless the piece be thick enough to pay for again putting it on the sawpit. Sawyer's work is paid by the superficial foot. Each cut counting twice the number of feet in the length of the piece multiplied by the depth of it. Sawyer's bills therefore formed the largest items in the cost of the earlier stages of the work. The getting a piece of timber to pit and clamping it firmly in position with iron dogs was always a work of time and as the boatbuilder looked upon heart of oak as more valuable than time a long discussion generally ensued as to the exact direction the line struck upon it by a worsted yarn saturated in wet charcoal should take. In order to make the most of the piece especially in the case of crooked limbs or the butt of a tree there was a slight turn in it. But these preliminaries once settled the long steady swish of a half-ripped saw soon reduced the largest timber into handy plank. It was chiefly on account of the lightness of the work and small amount of timber required in proportion to the strength of hull that the old clenchway building was decided upon for the rip-van-winkel. Though even within the memory of old yachtsman this style of work was known as cutter-built. I have been told indeed that the celebrated arrow was originally clench-built. Modern yachting ciberites have, however, long decided that life would not be worth living in such vessels. Sleep being out of the question in one on account of the rippling of the water against her overlapping planks. By going to see, however, a trifle short-handed so as to give plenty of work as well as play for all on board sleep may be enjoyed, according to my experience, by the watch below in even a clench-built craft. So far nothing has been said about the incubation or hatching out of the designs of the rip-van-winkel on paper. In lines evolved upon a half-block model after many days and choirs of glass paper had been consumed in reducing that model to the form which would combine the largest boat in the smallest compass. In small boat-work the form is dependent more upon the builder's eye than upon lines or molds. But the side of a vessel forty-five feet long is too large a surface and in at a glance. Six strong cross-sectional molds were therefore made from lines drawn in chalk and enlarged from the block model upon the floor of an empty room. And, as luck would have it, our old church had just undergone restoration, resulting in a crop or litter of small gothic vestries springing up round its solid old Saxon tower. And after the local contractor had done his work he had on hand several wooden arch centerings, the radius of which coincided happily with the curves of the molds we wanted. They were therefore bought of him for a few shillings and converted into cross-sectional molds to be set up on our keel as guides for the eye during the time that plank by plank the RVW unfolded slowly upwards from her keel. This keel was thirty-eight feet long by one foot six inches deep aft and one foot forward. It was eight inches wide on top and six at the bottom. And after having a groove worked in it for the first plank was secured upon the blocks with the oak stem and stern posts erected at either end, so that when the six molds were in place the motion of the size and character of our craft could be formed or as the boat builder said we begin to make a show. So far genteel people in our watering place had paid no more attention to these early numbers of my yacht. Then genteel people did before the flood early stages of Noah's Ark while the few that had heard of her had never regarded her as a fabric really destined to float. But when it became known that the keel was really laid nearly all the greater nautical authorities of the place felt it a duty to visit our dockyard in cold water enough upon our undertaking to have floated an ironclad. First in rank and importance came the retired admiral of our reading room and wist club with very preconceived ideas on naval architecture indeed. But at the same time full of sound impracticable and warning such as the danger of dry rot proving fatal to my craft soon after she was afloat as it did 70 years ago to an American frigate. Most urgent also was he to impress me with the vast importance of large scuppers and at any cost half a dozen ports three feet square in our bulwarks to allow the sea to escape from the deck on stormy nights in place of sending her to the bottom as it did many of these 10 gun brigs you know. Scuppers were that admiral's favorite hobby so that it was painful to him to hear that the RVW would be almost without bulwarks and that a roomy open cockpit or well room aft we intended giving her would be large enough to hold and keep on board until pumped out the biggest sea she was ever expected to ship. A more trying critic was my friend a retired merchant and sea captain a practical and positive man who spoke with authority having built and owned tons of shipping. He had all Lloyd's rules at his finger ends and as he had no further use for them now kindly presented me with some of their old tables giving the relative endurance of timber and showing as he said at a glance how long a vessel built as I proposed would be classed A1 etc. But as on referring to them it was clear that the RVW would never be classed at Lloyd's at all and that according to these rules her timbers ought to be rotten in less time than she would take me to build they were not used then again as to cost he pointed out with great truth that my expenses would really only begin when the hull of the yacht was completed. My assistant the boat builder had hitherto been only accustomed to work at home under the eye of a favorite black Tomcat but rather winced at finding the dockyard in danger of becoming a popular afternoon lounge for people he termed gap miles so that it was in the quiet morning hours especially between 6 and 8 a.m. that with the silent help of our handi-billies or tackles most of the heavier stages of work were got over though never interrupted by strikes work in our dockyard was far from being continuous the boat builder had other boats to build and repair and when he was thus employed all work upon the RVW was done by the foreman with at times the help of a boy or man to hold up a mall against the heads of the mini-copper and galvanized iron nails to be riveted the entire number of planks on a side from keel to gunnel of the yacht was twenty and one plank fitted and nailed four in aft on both sides usually took two days so that had the work been continuous her outer shell might have been completed in about forty days but as the yacht grew in height scaffolding had to be rigged round her and work done upon it did not progress quite as fast as that which could be reached from the ground most of the first and heavier part of the labor however such as fitting the stout four inch cross-floor timbers and deadwoods was done without the use of staging another source of delay was that all our ironwork and even the larger nails and boats were made by a local smith and sent to Bristol to be galvanized the inner timbers or ribs of the yacht with the exception of twelve floor timbers were all bent into place after the outer planking was completed these timbers were three inches by two inches thick and before being bent had of course to be subjected to steam heat for some hours and as they were stouter than anything the boat builder had handled special appliances had to be used for the job the first of these was a long narrow box or trunk of inch elm supported on trestles over a washer woman's boiler or copper seated upon bricks this was provided with a closely fitting wooden cover and was connected with the steaming trunk by a short bit of iron gas pipe the timbers were twelve feet long and six were steamed at a time the fire under the boiler being kept up for four or five hours whenever one of these batches of ribs was ready the extra help of two hands from the beach was engaged because the bending and nailing of each rib had to be done in ten minutes or while the wood was hot all the holes for the nails through the planking were board ready none being required in the timbers provided the nails were driven through them while hot the boat builder always drove these nails outside the boat while I and a strong hand inside forced the timber into place in doing which we also used a contrivance of mine of which as it answered its purpose well I have given a sketch it consisted of a light pole or lever long enough to reach from the keel inside the boat and project over her top plank six or eight feet the lower end of this lever was fitted with an iron hook and the outer end had a small block seized upon it a short sliding gaff about two feet six long was rigged with jaws on the pole inside the boat and when used the hook in the lower end worked the very eye bolt screwed into the keel inside the boat a breast of where the timbers were to be bent a rope was then passed through the block at the outer end of the pole one end of which was made fast to a heavy weight on the ground while the other end was used by a boy to pull down upon the end of the lever by those inside the boat the end of the short gaff being applied by them to any part of the hot timber where more power was wanted to bend it than could be got by mere strength of hand foot or knee we christened this contrivance the persuader because by it the most obstinate timber was either forced into place or broken this however only happened once during the work of steaming in those who had to handle these timbers as they came hot and hot from the steam trunk had their hands protected by thick woollen mitts besides some shorter ones many of these timbers were bent hot into the boat each being fastened to her planking by two stout four and a half inch galvanized iron nails between them the planking was fastened by two and a half inch copper nails all of which were riveted upon washers or roves inside one of these rivets was at least 3500 none of the boat builder's time was ever wasted upon this tedious work most of it indeed was done in his absence by the foreman of the yard who observed that whenever the riveting hammer was at work the most inveterate lounger rarely remained long under the building shed from the earliest numbers of the rvw every bit of new work was at once well paid or painted over with a mixture of stock home tar boat varnish and linseed oil the application of which aromatic preservative was a pleasant relaxation for arm and ear after a spell of riveting as soon as the planking and timbering of the hull was finished it was followed by the heavy work of fitting a stout oak gunnel inside the top plank into which the ends of the deck beams were fitted and tied to the sides of the boat by strong oak and iron or brackets then followed the laying of the deck with a raised hatch 18 feet long by 8 feet wide and 1 foot high built into it amid ships abaffed the mast beyond this hatch aft a space 12 feet long by 8 feet wide was left open under the headroom or cockpit round which the lockers were fitted the cabin doors opened into this cockpit upon a platform raised 2 feet above the floor of the cabin the height or headroom in the cabin under this hatch was a little over 6 feet the accompanying longitudinal plan gives the arrangement of the saloon ladies cabin and folxel of the RVW sometime before these internal fittings were carried out in the plainest style of varnished yellow pine the materials for masts, sails and rigging were got together owing however to the length of the mast required for the pole rig of the yacht I had some difficulty in procuring a suitable spar at a reasonable price my friend the retired ship owner kindly offered his services in the shape of an introductory letter to a London firm of sparmakers from which I was to get my mast the answer of that firm was of such a character which would have brought the price of this important number of the RVW to a figure out of all proportions to any of the preceding numbers therefore after consulting the boatbuilder I determined upon a voyage to Exmouth in the foam to look for a stick there was a nice breeze off the land on a lovely summer morning when, with a five pound note in my pocket and some bread and cheese for the voyage I and a young shipwright's apprentice a lad named Hart and one of the few saved in the boat of the steamship London which foundered in the bay of Biscay left Sidmouth for Exmouth in search of a mast including a beat up the river this little voyage was usually made in two hours and we reached the nearest landing to some timber ponds at Exmouth soon after eleven there were the ponds with plenty of long spars afloat in them but no owner or even a house was to be seen near these solitary salt lagoons and it was only after wandering some distance that I found a fisherman drying his nets who directed me to a small shipwright's yard where I found the proprietor of the spars cocking an old pilot cutter who in the course of time condescended to go and look them over with me we measured nearly every likely stick more than once before finding one the required length and size and even this had an ugly kink near the small end it was however sixty five feet long and one in diameter at the butt end so though like the rent in peeps cloak this kink troubled me I agreed at last to give the man three pounds eighteen shillings for it when afloat in the river this with the aid of a horse and pair of wheels was after some delay done I became the hardest part of the whole business that of getting change for my five pound note which was only obtained after another long hot walk over heavy sand to a small riverside public house and the purchase of a quart of the worst cider I ever tasted the owner of the spar was however equal even to the cider and after drinking it called for pens and inks and scrawled me out a receipt for three pounds eighteen shillings the long rough-barked pine tree as it lay afloat alongside her made the foam look very small and the shipwright asked what I was going to do with the spar I said of course tow it to Sidmouth this led to a discussion as to the best way of doing so the chief point in which was to be sure and make my tow rope fast to the big end of the spar after some maneuvering to get that end a stern of the foam and toward the sea we started with a fair wind out of the X we had not gone more than a mile before I found that owing to the slight turn in it the spar was constantly rolling over and fast untwisting my tow line spinning in fact like an enormous minnow a stern of the boat I then tried two tow lines one over each quarter but this did not mend matters much and the faster we went the quicker the spar spun round I therefore hauled down my sails and took it in tow by the small end things went on better after this until we got clear of the river into the swell of the channel upon which the spar at once showed inclination to run with its long nose above water and charge the foam a stern near so doing that I decided to try and lift the small end of it out of water and lash it down on top of her stern she had fine wide quarters and with some ballast shifted forward made nothing of the weight of the spar from this time I had no more trouble the long stick when it ran upon a sea even seemingly to help us forward and we made the passage of ten miles home quite an hour sooner than Harry Conant who had proposed meeting us in his boat half way expected he only met us a short distance from Sidmouth and finding on taking us in tow would not keep a tow line taught he therefore cast off and landing before us was ready to help haul the future mast of the RVW up the beach after which a few days application of draw knife jack and trying plane soon licked this rough stick into shape as I said before Harry Conant was a first rate rigor and sail maker and furnished with a sail plan and measuring tape he and I contrived for want of a regular sail off to cut out all the sails of the RVW in a smooth pasture meadow several months before she was launched Conant working upon them at home in his leisure hours like many of our great iron clads the RVW was not launched with a rush but gently floated off shore by the tide one difficulty of this job was that between where she lay upon the blocks and the sea the ground rose more than six feet toward the gasplanade and sea wall from which of course the beach fell rapidly seaward. In order therefore to get her over this embankment she was placed upon a strong axle tree fitted with a pair of solid wooden trucks or low wheels like those of an old ship's gun carriage. This axle tree was long enough to hold her rather forward of a midship's and was strong enough to carry her weight about six tons and long enough to support chocks at both ends cut to fit the boat's bottom and hold her upright. Both ends of this axle tree were well stayed fore and aft at right and moved upon short rollers placed under it. A double block tackle was then rigged from the yacht to the sea wall the fall or end of which was taken to a capstan on the esplanade by means of which two men were able to slowly heave her and the cradle on to the esplanade the remainder of her journey seaward was downhill and the same tackle reversed was used to check her way as she descended slowly to low water mark before however a day was decided on for this final move from a place of safety on the sea walk the barometer and look of the sky was carefully noted in order to make quite sure of fine weather and smooth water as under any circumstances there would have been a risk of total loss before she even floated the tide also had to be considered not merely with a view to depth of water but for time to lower her down ballast her with shingle and jewellery rig her before she started for exmouth to be masted and complete her fit out there afloat a launch or rather a floating off of this kind of course created little public excitement but on the day fixed for it first rate willing hands to help carry it out among the fishermen from among whom I had now engaged an old friend as the permanent crew of the RVW and had I gone the world over it would have been hard to find a better man afloat or ashore than my sturdy molten in parvo William Barron a first rate beach man a good shoemaker who had served on board a revenue cutter was a good house and ship painter and had been a gentleman servant he was then in the prime of life and one of the most cheerily tempered fellows possible and looking at his portrait taken this year seems to have remained so ever since Barron must be now nearer 80 than 70 and yet last summer he started one morning at 5 a.m. by excursion train from Sidmouth to pay us one of his usual visits after having spent the night at sea with his prawn nets arrived at Southampton as fresh as the basket of prawns he brought with him my second hand or mate was a young X-Muth pilot just out of his apprenticeship of the name of Tubman but he did not join the yacht until she was fitted out ready for sea at X-Muth to which port Barron assisted by Conant and his son was to take charge of her End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 of A Water Biography by Robert C. Leslie This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Chapter 8 Floating of the Rip Van Winkle Does not seem inclined to do so but in course of time changes her mind Her start jewelry-rigged in the evening for X-Muth We join her there fitting out at X-Muth How we got the mast into her I am boarded by port officials who want to know a lot of things They measure the RVW We hoist a flag for our second hand Tubman and sail late one evening for Dartmouth Arriving there before daylight and turn into the harbor at daybreak More fitting out at Dartmouth Men's bunks, etc Our cooking arrangements on board, etc Our swell companion at Dartmouth Number of souls on board RVW Why not bodies? Trips up the dart to Totness in Dingy Baron and Tubman's work on board Late hours kept by Dingy Our commander-in-chief issues an order Difficulties in carrying it out Slack rigging Out of water and coal How overruled and obtained An early start for Salcom An invisible entrance and buoys Lovely scenery Trip up to Kingsbridge The bread of Salcom The doubtful loin of mutton of that place And what became of it We lose some bottled stout It was past 6 p.m. on the 4th of June When the first ripple of the tide Touched the cradle of the yacht And I shall never forget The curious expression on Baron's face As the tide rose round her bow As he looked out of the folksal hatch With the news that the water Was quite as high inside her as it was out And how I sent in a hurry for the boat-builder While Baron and Conant handed bucket after bucket Of salt water over her side The boat-builder made light of the matter Merely remarking that it wasn't no more than he expected And that she'd take up all right after a bit And so she did And about dusk was afloat off Sidmouth And ready to sail under a jewelry rig Of Conant's largest lug sail forward And her own mizzen aft But during her short voyage that night to Exmouth She required pumping out more than once Before they anchored near Star Cross in Exmouth Byte After which she became as tight as a bottle A few years later my wife, three children And I went on board The RVW, however, wanted many things Before she was really ready for sea Her long mast lay on deck She had no windlass or hosepipe fitted The castings for these ordered at Topchum Having not been received before she left Sidmouth My mate Tubman boarded her the morning she anchored at Exmouth But finding that at last a week must elapse Before we should be ready to sail, begged As he had just been married to stay ashore Honey-mooning until wanted And as Conant still remained on board busy with the rigging This was gladly granted The first thing, of course, was to get the windlass finished For without it we were tried by the nose For a want of power to get our sheet anchor This took three days I mean the windlass fittings After which I asked the skipper of a large collier brig Lying near us to let me come alongside And hoist my mast into place by means of his main yard Which he very politely granted Stipulating only that his crew might receive something For any help given us It did not take long to weigh anchor And warp alongside the old collier Or to sling our long spar to her yard arm And lower it into place After which in the able hands of Conant The RVW soon assumed quite a rakish look So much so indeed that we were soon afterwards Boarded by a mysterious government official I believe connected with the board of trade Who wanted to know many things about my craft Which I did not know myself Such as what yacht club she belonged to And if to done what port she hailed from Was she registered and if so what was her tonnage, etc. The net result of which inquiries proved clearly That the RVW was in the eye of the law of all nations An illegal floating body of suspicious character With no papers or documents to identify her Or give her a right to enter or leave any port In her majesties or anybody else's dominions Feeling the gravity of the situation I humbly inquired what would have to be done And paid to make the RVW an honest craft And was told that first she must be officially measured And that to do this much of the shingle ballast Would have to be moved And that when the necessary dimensions were obtained They would be sent to London And in due course would be returned With the proper papers, etc. For which there would be a small fee Of two shillings and six pence to pay So far as I was personally concerned I was quite satisfied with the tonnage of the RVW And really did not want to know anything more About her than I did already I knew that when I pulled her empty hull Out of the coal-yard it weighed about six tons She was as big a boat as I could make her For the money she cost Three hundred and fifteen pounds Which to say nothing of my time Was more than I ought to have spent on her As, however, the man seemed hard up for a job And had evidently had rather a dull time of it lately I said he might go ahead as soon as he liked And hoped he would let me have the required papers With as little delay as possible The length of my stay in that port being uncertain Our cabin carpet and flooring were therefore removed And Baron made excavations amongst the ballast In which the officials carried out their researches To discover the real capacity Or displacement of the RVW When it was all over I asked the head official what it came to And was told that until the data obtained by him Had been worked out in London He could not exactly say But thought she would register twenty tons Some hundreds I never heard how many Though I believe this with the papers of the RVW May still be discovered by the curious In some dusty pigeonhole Of the customs at Exmouth In short, three days later We hoisted our only flag A Union Jack For Tubman to join us And about nine the same evening Wade anchor for Dartmouth It was a lovely night With a nice breeze at West Northwest Or a little abaft our beam As we stood across Torbay Past Berry Head And by one in the morning We were off the Dartmouth Mu Stone This was the first time Either Tubman or I had handled the boat And as the wind was right out of harbor We lay on and off till daylight When, as we tacked up the narrow harbor We were glad to find her very handy And quick in stays We brought up off the town Near where the Britannia Naval Cadet Ship Was afterwards moored Here we remained a fortnight With a carpenter on board Part of the time fitting What sailors call standing bedplaces Or bunks in the folksel For Baron and Tubman Who had so far slept on the side lockers But as what landsmen call fresh air Was to them a matter of less importance Than what they termed snugness And comfort These bunks were built close up under the deck beams And according to Tubman's directions He having passed some gears in a pilot cutter They were all boarded in Except an opening in front Just large enough to crawl in and out of When finished They gave great satisfaction And judging by the noise Always required to rouse the watch below Sleep in these cupboards Was of the soundest quality Nothing on board the RVW Would have pleased a modern yacht's skipper Cooking was done in an old fashioned Portable deck galley In which Baron contrived To boil, bake, and fry Ten times on deck forward When the result was handed below Through the cabin skylight While at sea it was used In a corner of the cockpit aft Dinner being served from it Through the cabin doors We had also supplied ourselves At Xmouth with a large brown Baking dish Decorated with cream colored spots Those in which the savory Sunday dinners Of working men are cooked And whenever we lay within reach Of a baker's oven This dish Frated with a piece of beef Or leg of mutton Flanked by potatoes, etc. And protected by a large tin dish cover Was taken ashore And brought off hot to us By Baron in the dinghy In this way we secured during our cruise A large hot joint at least once a week Moored close to us at Dartmouth Was a very swell schooner yacht And as Tubman and Baron watched her crew Every morning polishing up her brasswork And rubbing down her glossy black sides With chamois leathers As they would the panels of a carriage They rejoiced quietly In the absence of brass fittings And the rough tarred top sides Of the RVW And I understood one reason Why two such good men were contented with me Not counting the perishable beast buzz We were, to speak nautically Seven souls all told on board Though wise seafaring people Should be thus spiritualized Has always puzzled me No one calls railway Or omnibus passengers souls They are always persons Bodily filling places or seats It might however often be well If people, especially passengers Could leave their bodies ashore When taking a voyage Souls, we are taught Being so easily provided for In every way While this would do away With that mortal dread of the sea So trying to some people No one in a storm fidgets about his soul It is his bothering body Always wants either to save himself Or someone else to save alive for him And except in the case of a body Too seasick to care I have observed that the greater the real Or fancy danger at sea The less people trouble about their souls This is, however, a digression And I must not pursue the question I was led into by a little discussion Between our mate and my wife During our first evening at sea As to the comparative feeling of security By people afloat and ashore Which he tried to prove was a mere matter of faith Or that we were as safe at sea As anywhere else Which looking upon seafarers Merely as souls might hold good But which I regret to say Did not prevent my wife wanting to know Where we were more than once During our first night at sea Our stay at Dartmouth gave ample time For several voyages up the river To tauntness in the dinghy The beauties of the dart Were then not as well known as today When every autumn the little harbour Is so full of yachts That as a sailor would say There is not room to swing a cat among them The dinghy had a lug sail And leaving Tubman and Barron To take care of themselves and the yacht My wife and little girl With the two boys, the dog, buzz, and I As we paddled, sailed, or drifted up it Had this lovely river almost to ourselves Stopping to land here and there At tempting points and little bays For a ramble inland And reaching tauntness about high water And dropping down again with the ebb Toward evening to our small floating home At Dartmouth, and I think even my wife With all her dislike of the sea Enjoyed these little excursions The distance between Dartmouth and tauntness Is rather under ten miles But the river winds round so many Pretty headlands that with the tide The voyage never seemed long During our absence Tubman and Barron Had no boat to leave the yacht in And how they passed their time was a mystery Barron, as steward and maid of all work Had most to do, and seemed to spend Much of his time scrubbing the floor Of the cockpit aft, while Tubman perhaps Was writing our official log or love letters Forward to his new wife Sailors, however, have always a knack Of getting a friendly cast ashore But on our return after a late tea or supper There generally came a request to take the boat And go into town for something or other So that our seven souls were seldom all Settled on board for the night until eleven o'clock The dog buzzed, pattering up and down The deck alone as anchor watch Being the last to turn into his bed In a side locker Then the restless dingy would often Let us know when the tide turned Or the winds shifted by wrapping A double-knock alongside As Admiral of the fleet My wife now issued an order That all future maneuvers on board The RVW at sea were to be Conducted in daylight and fine weather And to make sure of carrying out this Command under sail I had before leaving the port To closely note my aneroid And the sky for such meteorological warnings As in those benighted, cone-less days Might there be hoisted While to ensure a daylight passage I always made an early start I had in fact, like the skipper Of a Chinese junk, to wait every voyage For a little private monsoon My crew knew nothing of these arrangements And when late one evening I told them that next morning at daylight I should sail for Salcom Three difficulties were at once Started by Tubman First, our new rigging Wanted setting up again Secondly, the water-cast was empty And thirdly, we had no coal aboard I suggested the application of faith To our rigging for that short voyage And that he and Baron Must start at once in the dinghy For water and coal Baron, of course, saw no lions in the way But it was past nine before he and Tubman Went after the water and coal And before they returned, I was in bid We weighed anchor, or rather unmoored For we had two down at four next morning And as we ran out of the harbor I asked whether they had got the coal and water Yes, sir, said Baron But that old coal merchant Didn't bless us last night You see, sir, we was late-ish And his yard was shut So he had to find where he lived And when I roused him out Of the window, and I suppose He mistook me for a skipper of a steamer And asked how many ton I wanted But when I said A arf under it would do for tonight And would he oblige us with a loan of a sack To carry them off in His language before he banged His window down was awful But I think it was the sack That fixed him more than the small order Then said I You never got any coal after all Yes, sir, we did We borrowed some as we rode back Off the skipper of a coal sloop Baron appeared quite satisfied With this arrangement And when I asked how we were to return Or pay for them, merely said Law, sir, don't trouble over that I told the skipper how we was situated And in such things one sailor Is glad to help another Because they never knows When they might want some little things themselves We ran past the start With a light northerly breeze Early that morning And soon after breakfast We're laughing in round Prahl Point To the entrance of Salcombe Harbour Tubman had been there before And knowing it stood on close under the land As though he meant to run ashore Inside of Bolt Head And seeing no break or entrance Among the rocky cliffs around us I stepped into the cabin To consult the chart and channel pilot And just came out with my head crammed With the bearings of various coloured Buoys, etc. To find we were off the mouth of the harbour With nothing like a buoy to be seen Which was not surprising As on consulting another part Of the pilot book some days later I discovered a note to the effect That these buoys no longer existed Coming from the eastward round The start the way into Salcombe Is invisible Or shut in until you are almost At the entrance Which is not over a quarter mile wide But the water was so clear as we tacked In that we were able to stand on Upon each short tack Until we saw the seaweed on the rocks A few feet under our forefoot Once inside the water is deep With plenty of room and good anchorage We were delighted with the splendid Variety of rock and river scenes Round us as we sailed up to the little town Where we lay for many days In order to explore every nook And corner in the dinghy Our first trip being up to the picturesque Old towns of Kingsbridge and Dodbrook Celebrated as being the birthplace Of Dr. Wolcott or Peter Pindar Also as having been the place Where the white ale of this district Was first brewed It was at Salcombe that we bought Those large round flat loaves Which kept sweet and fresh on board for days Butcher's meat, on the other hand, was scarce And it was a Salcombe loin of mutton That the day after it came on board The weather being close and electric Was handed over to Barron Who, feeling uncertain about it Had once changed it with a passing fisherman For a piece of fresh skate Barron disliked waste And I think it was on a hot day here That he expressed great regret At finding several exploded bottles of stout In one of our lockers, wishing, as he said He had only known before What they were going to do Canned meats, condensed milk, et cetera Were not common then Which made housekeeping in a small yacht In out-of-the-way places Not so easy as today Our youngsters also were accustomed To plenty of new milk And whenever possible One of the men landed with a large milk can And in company with the two boys And the dog, Buzz Often walked a mile or two inland Before getting it filled End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of A Water Biography By Robert C. Leslie This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer Please visit LibriVox.org Chapter 9 Summer weather on the south coast The wings of the morning We sail for Plymouth Anchor off the hull And some stones there to our ballast The port admiral objects Through a coast guardsman We apologize Last resting place of those stones A long trip up the Tamar The navigation of tidal estuaries By strangers easy on a flood tide The younger members of my crew And their good conduct The library of the yacht Gain us of Plymouth after Sidmouth We lay in stores and sail for Fowey Enter that harbor full sail Rig of the RVW First idea of from the old swan of the warren Comfortable corner in Fowey Exploration of river to Lost Whithiel, etc. We nearly take root at Fowey But on reflection sail for Falmouth Pull up the fowl to Truro And go by land to Penzance The yacht has her bottom scrubbed We rejoin her from Truro in the dinghy After spending a week at Penzance Sail again for Plymouth But anchor in the Yelm No supplies there A change of weather Our anchor drags And we leave the Yelm about midnight And run into the sound Weatherbound in catwater An epidemic on board We sail for Salcombe Anchor there for the night A bead out of Salcombe Thick fog in the channel The bell on the start A bricksome smack looms up And asks where he is A fine afternoon into Dartmouth On our south coasts In fine true summer weather There is a regular land and sea breeze That from the land springing up Soon after sunset And lasting until nine or ten the next morning When, after an interval of an hour Or two of calm about noon The wind comes in from the sea And may be fairly trusted Until it dies away toward sunset It was in this kind of weather That, literally taking the wings of the morning We ran out of the little port of Salcombe Not to remain in the uttermost parts of the sea But past the Salcombe mu-stone And bolthead and tail Across Bigbury Bay Past scenery Mr. Murray In his handbook of that date Describes as exceedingly romantic Although almost as unknown As the shores of Camcacha I don't know whether he has scratched this out yet But I know we had lots of time to admire it Because here the wind fell light And with the tide against us We lay almost becombed Until the sea breeze rose and took us on Before it closed by that grand Outlying home of the sea mu The Plymouth mu-stone And passed the breakwater into The western entrance of the sound Where we brought up close under the hull Among other matters While anchored at Dartmouth We had carried off in the dinghy Nearly two tons of large clean stone As additional ballast And finding the trim of the RVW Would be still improved by a ton or two more Baron and I innocently went ashore here The day after we arrived And loaded the dinghy to the water's edge With handy-sized stones And had just done stowing two loads on board And were taking in a third When a spruce coast-guardsman In white ducks with a spyglass under his arm Hove in sight, bore down upon us And pointing to a notice board Some distance off Formed me that these stones belonged To the admiralty And must on no account leave the shore And that he had the Port Admiral's orders To obtain my name, etc. Though I did not quote it The chorus of Marriott's old sea-song Of Port Admiral, you be damned Occurred to me. But Baron was more happy and profuse In his apologies, and having been in the service Would be the last person to think Of touching Her Majesty's property We had certainly not seen the notice And the heavy penalties incurred By any person, etc. Painted on it. Chapman, however, on our return said It was only what he expected. We had already quite a ton Of Plymouth Hole under the cabin floor And having, in a weak moment, left my card With the polite coast-guardsman I was in constant terror During our stay here Of being boarded by an officer Armed with a search warrant For those sacred stones. He did not appear, however, And they remained on board the R-V-W For nearly two years, Or until I became so much attached To them that a memorial cairn Or rockwork was built of them In the garden of the first house We lived in at Southampton After our escape from the happy veil Of the SID. I have sculled a heavy Thames skiff With three adult passengers And three children on board From Oxford to London in three days And once rode my wife in a light boat From Ross to Chepstow Forty miles down the Y in the day But the heaviest day's work I ever undertook Was in my dinghy from our anchorage Off the whole, up the Tamar Above Cothiel and back. We left the yacht about nine a.m. With a large supply of sandwiches A bottle of milk and some beer Not forgetting some water And some scraps for buzz. Being only eleven and a half feet long By four feet three wide Our boat was rather heavy For a single-handed scull Of nearly thirty-six miles And whenever our Commodore gave leave The lug sail was hoisted Not only as auxiliary power But to afford shade from the sun. We took, of course, a good tide with us And happily tide is no respecter Of size or form of boat So that we reached Cothiel about two p.m. Where the river looked so enchanting That it was impossible to resist Exploring it a mile or two further Where we landed at a little riverside place Called, I think, Cherry Orchard. The navigation, even of an unknown Broad winding estuary like the Tamar Is easy enough in a small boat Upon a flood tide. And long distances may be saved In one by cutting boldly across Shoals and banks from point to point. Because with a flowing tide Even taking the ground entails Only a short delay for water Enough to float again. But the return voyage down With the ebb requires more care Even in a small boat When, like the Tamar, a river Spreads at high water or half ebb Over broad shoals of sand or mud Which are rapidly left dry in places Far from either shore. So that, as you scowl down What looks like midstream, the bottom Of the river seems to come suddenly To the top. And if after scraping over a bank Of this sort the boat was stopped Upon it with a fast falling tide I always stepped overboard at once And if the water deepened ahead Halled her over it. But if this was not the case She was pulled astern to try back For deeper water. In such cases every moment is important In order to avoid being caught Far from shore with the prospect Of remaining there until the next tide On soft mud, of course, this plan Must not be attempted. But in these Devonshire and Cornish Estuaries most of the shoals Are hard enough to stand upon. Enlightened by the weight of one person A small boat is more easily piloted Into deep water. I have gone into these details Because I am sure that had I lost time On board my boat trying to shove Her ahead or astern with an oar We must inevitably have been left A ground to spend half the night On some desolate flat. As it was we reached the RVW at 8.30 p.m. And were not sorry to find the kettle Boiling and the cabin table laid For supper or late tea. Also that no further news Had reached barren from the port Admiral. In so small a boat as our dingy Long excursions like this up the Tamar and other rivers with three Children might have proved anything But pleasure trips but for the Invariable quiet orderly Obedience of those children. At their age life even on board The RVW was necessarily one of Restraint. But during the three months we all Lived in her I cannot recollect Any trouble from them. I think the Mark Tapley character Of these youngsters was greatly owing To the fact that we had always taken Them with us wherever we went So that the ripped van winkle, The foam or even the little dingy Was for the time home to them. While as nursemaid and private Tudor combined barren was Unvaluable either afloat or during A run ashore with him and the dog Buzz. Then again though far from being Luxuriously furnished in other things The RVW had a solidly concentrated Library. In the shape of all Mariette's novels Twenty-two volumes of household Words, nine of the Penny magazine And the whole of Knight's English Encyclopedia, so that when Confined on board in wet weather There was something to read for all Upon most subjects. After our long retirement Among the wilds of Devon and quiet Of Sidmouth, the busy gay town Of Plymouth, and its handsome Shop's head, I almost believe More attractions for my wife Than even the rocks of Bolthead And Bigbury Bay. And we spent many pleasant mornings As sure here, marking and adding Little refinements to cabin furniture And the day before starting for Fawe, we were careful after Our sol-com experiences To lay in here a good supply Of fresh meat, butter, and vegetables. The distance from our anchorage At Plymouth to Fawe was About twenty-two miles, and having Secured my usual monsoon We ran out of the sound round Raimhead, and made the entrance Of Fawe early in the afternoon. The mouth of this harbor is not More than two hundred yards wide, But having a leading wind, we ran Straight for the anchorage among Several small vessels under all sale. The peculiar rig of the yacht Enabling one hand to lower her Sails at a minute's notice. The jib, four and main halyards Being let go by him, and the Misen by the man at the tiller. In this way I was able at once To reduce the ship to bare poles While Tubman steered and Barron Stood by to let go the anchor. Her jib ran on a stay, and in Barret weather was as easily taken In as a forsel, while all Four jib-headed sails could be Hoisted by one hand and a youngster. This rig required few blocks beyond Those on the main and four sheets, And there was less than a dozen On board all told. The heaviest part of her mainsail In hoisting it was carried by Tubes up the incline plain Of her raking mast, and the head Of it by hanks running upon a wire Jack-stay set up a bath the mast. This simple rig, suitable Rather for a sea-going houseboat Than a yacht was not original, But suggested by that of The swan of the warren She often brought pleasure parties To Sidmouth, and during the time They were ashore, her owner, Mr. Britton, handled her easily Alone for hours, or until The return of his man and party In the boat. The day after we Arrived at Fowie we shifted the Yacht into a small land-locked Inlet just above the town, on The west side of the harbor, where We lay so near shore that After letting go one anchor we Moored ship with a line made Fast to an apple-tree. This cozy little corner had Quite a fascination for my wife, And here the RVW lay more Than a week as quietly as A Thames houseboat. One comfort of such a birth was That being out of the tide We were undisturbed by changes In it, or by other craft Bringing up or getting under Way near us, while even Our anchor-light, which Persistently went out at Midnight, gave no anxiety. We explored the Fowie river In every direction, including Four miles up to Lostwithiel, And from there walked to the Grassy wildbrier-grown ruins Of Restormal Castle, for Historical account of which See Murray. In fact we were so much Impressed with the beauties And amenities of Fowie, and Convenience as a boating-place, That we felt almost as inclined As we had been at Salcombe To encamp there permanently, And rent or build a damp Little waterside hermitage On the shore of its pretty harbor. There is a risk, however, That living in such a place You become attached to it Like a limpet, or some Lichen upon its rocks. I therefore sailed at once For Falmouth, where we left The yacht, and pulled up The fowl in the dingy to Truro, Topman accompanying Us to take the boat back While we went on by land To Penzance, and the Land's end for a week, In order to give them In time to lay the RVW ashore to scrub And tar her bottom, Which was now very foul. After our week at Penzance, Topman met us at Truro again, And we rejoined the yacht, Now anchored in St. Ma's Road. Our cruise westward ended here, And after a few pulls in the dingy Among the winding creeks of The lovely fowl, we started For Plymouth, or rather The mouth of the Yelm, a narrow Inlet to the eastward of the Mu Stone. Our voyage with Light airs and comms was slow, And we were not off the sound Until after sunset, when My wife having read somewhere About the beauties of this Little river, we ran in And anchored near the entrance For the night. I have generally found that The finer the natural scenery, The worse the food, and that A point may be reached in this Direction where it cannot Be got at all. Topman and the boys were Ashore at once in search Of milk. He was away Over an hour and said on His return he had climbed The hills above us and walked A mile before finding even A farmhouse, and then He had some difficulty to Get a little milk. He had been here before And wished to go farther Up the river, but seeing How narrow it was and what An awkward place it would be To get out of with a westerly wind I decided to remain Where we were. We had not been anchored long When the weather showed signs Of a change, and I was Roused by our Commodore About eleven-thirty p.m. With the news that she was Sure we were dragging Our anchor. I listened a moment and Sure enough came that Dull-grading message Up our cable from the bottom Which once heard Cannot be mistaken, and Looking out of the cabin doors Found a fresh wind had sprung Up. I called Barron to Give her three or four fathoms More chain, and as I stood Watching the landmarks a Large fishing-boat ran in Close by us from sea and Hailing us said we were On his mooring. I told him we were On our own anchor and asked What the weather was like Outside. He answered, Blowing fresh and dirty. On hearing which I told Barron to call Topman And tell him I Intended getting underway At once, so as to clear Out of this corner and get Inside the breakwater before The wind, now to the Eastward of south, shifting To the westward. This was about midnight, and Topman turned out rather Slow and sleepy, and tried To induce me to wait Till daylight. But I had Such a horror of being Caught to leeward in a Trap for some days with No supplies near that I Told him I meant to start Now while we had a Leading wind out, and then Went below to warn the Commodore that things Might be lively on board For an hour or so. And leaving my second boy Who was never seasick in Charge of the cabin and Any moveables below, I Went forward to help Them in get underway. It was nearly one a.m. And a dirty looking Morning, but there was A moon, and the R-V-W was not About to mind a little sea, And under her snug canvas We had a splendid Sail out round The mu stone, and Past the shag stone And Turkar buoy, where Inside the breakwater Just as day began To break. The Wind was fair, and We ran up the sound, and Anchored in catwater Long enough before Sunrise to turn In again for an hour or Two before breakfast. We lay here weatherbound For nearly a week, and The day after Anchoring the wind Blew so hard that the Men, even in our Plucky little dingy, were Unable to pull across To Plymouthtown, and Tubman confessed That he was glad we left The Yelm when we did, for Had we been weatherbound There, we might as well Have been on a desert island With all the mouths We had to feed. The only anxiety we had During this breeze was From a big lump of a Bone sloop, lying Just to winward of us With no one in charge. But she held on all Right. It was here That a slight epidemic First showed itself on Board among the younger Part of our crew, in The shape of chickenpox, Contracted no doubt In the pensance lodging. But it proved of A mild character, and Our little girl Kate was The only one who remained A day in bed with it. And directly the weather Became settled, we decided Upon a change of air, And weighing anchor Made a good passage of Four hours to salchome. It was on leaving This pretty little port The second time That the skipper and crew Of the RVW At first really felt proud Of her sailing qualities. The wind was Right into the harbor When, in company with a Local sloop, we Started for a two-mile beat Out of the narrow port. The sloop had the start, And we worked Tack and tack a stern Of her until near The harbor mouth we passed Her. And after Another board or two Saw her give up And run back to her anchorage. Perhaps we Might have followed suit Had we known what it was like Outside, for we had Hardly rounded the prowl Before the wind fell Light, and so Thick a fog settled Down upon us that It was almost impossible To see a length ahead. We were bound Round the start About four miles off And then on to Dartmouth And kept our course a little To the southward of the start As well as we could Until we judged ourselves Nearly abreast of it When we edged in For the land again Until worn by some Corks of a crab-pot Knew it was not far And almost immediately Afterwards heard The bell on the lighthouse High in the air Above us on the port bow. The wind now Freshened up a little And after standing To the eastward for a while A bricksome trawler Loomed up suddenly in the fog Just ahead on the other Tack and asked As she bore away past us How far they were Off the land We answered We had just heard The bell on the start. Then asking Where we were bound And being told said You will find it as clear As a bell a mile Or two to the Nord. We shaped our course Accordingly, and He proved right For after passing Berryhead We sailed into Dartmouth In bright sunshine.