Hard Start Ended Well for "Ripple" Long Ago: Schooner Days MXCV (1115)

by C. H. J. Snider

KINGARVIE'S exploit of getting on again-off-again just as she neared her destination at Port Hawkesbury, Nova Scotia, on July 6th, as related last week, recalls a little mishap another RC.Y.C. yacht had, long, long ago, when she also started on an ambitious cruise, which turned out as successful as we all hope Kingarvie's Bermuda venture will.

The long-ago yacht was the schooner Ripple, a smart little clipper-bowed craft drawing 6 foot 6. Kingarvie draws 8 feet.

Ripple was built in 1865 for the Hon. Edward Blake, Q.C. At that time he was a dashing young yachtsman-lawyer who had sailed the iron Rivet in the historic regatta of 1860 which produced the Prince of Wales Cup. It is still raced for, the R.C.Y.C.'s most treasured trophy.

In 1868 Ripple was owned by Capt. Wm. Cooper Campbell, later one of the owners of the first Oriole; and on July 24th of that year, Capt. Campbell and a select company of good R.C.Y.C. lads made a start from the club moorings at the foot of Simcoe street for no nearer than the Great Manitoulin island, if you please.

Through the kindness of Mr. Walter F. Campbell, of Port Credit and Toronto, long a fellow member of the R.C.Y.C. — and still longer a son of Capt. Campbell!— we have seen the log of the Ripple on this interesting voyage. The first page tells of the little preliminary if setback, and makes it plain that Capt. Campbell was, like Capt. Larmour 85 years later, what we call a real sailorman. Here goes: -

"July 24, Friday

Weather cloudy and heavy

Wind: North

Distance; 29 miles to Port Dalhousie.

"Made sail at 1 p.m. Hove the anchor up and started with a light, squally breeze from the North at 1.30. Outside the Channel the wind shifted to the southward and we stood S.W. until the breeze failed us altogether. After knocking about till 6.30 we got a light breeze from the northward, which gradually freshened until it blew pretty hard, we heading S.S.E. to fetch about 2 miles west of Pt. Dalhousie. As darkness came on it became very thick and foggy, so much so that at 10 p.m. although we knew we were not more than 3 or 4 miles from the Port we could not see the light.

"At last at 10.15 we caught a glimpse of it for a moment and at once luffed. The sea was now rather heavy and as we luffed we took soundings in 4 1/2 fathoms of water. This was too shoal, and we endeavored to heave to and stand off on the starboard tack, but owing to the heavy sea we lost way. We then paid off in the port tack to give her way to come about, but unfortunately just as we came up to the wind again, our stern touched the bottom, and we lost control of the vessel.

"We then let go an anchor from the bow, but it was of no avail, and we gradually drifted on to shore in intense darkness, Although so near shore we could not see it, and not until we were hard and fast could we make out the outline of the land at all.

"We were now in a critical situation. The sea was heavy and every huge wave as it rushed on seemed to threaten destruction. The grinding, creaking and bumping on the stones was anything but comfortable. Our lamps were knocked out and nothing was visible but the white crests of the waves as they rolled on to our devoted vessel.

"After hard work we got the sails all safely stowed, and everything made as snug as we could. Our next move was to get help to get off again, so we fastened a long line to our dinghy, in case of accident, and paying out the line sent Sutherland the cook safely ashore, with his clothes done up in a bundle, to make his way to Port Dalhousie, and send the tug to us.

"This was about 12.30, and not till 6 a.m. did the tug hove in sight.

"Such a long, trying night will not be forgotten. Sleep was entirely banished from our eyes, our main object being to keep the vessel as dry and as easy as possible. By canting the booms to one side, and giving the anchor a little more chain, we gave her a list over, and she lay much more easy."

"July 25, Saturday

Weather dull

Wind: North and east.

"Tired, wet and weary, about 4 a.m. we managed to light a fire and got a cup of cocoa, which was intensely delicious. The morning broke thick and heavy. All night we had been anxiously watching the wind but it would not lull although towards sunrise it hauled more to the eastward.

"It is only those who have been shipwrecked who can tell of the comfort we experienced when at last we saw the tug. Eight hours of watching in wind and spray, bumping and thumping as if everything were about to be knocked to pieces, had told somewhat on us.

"After some trouble the tug at last approached, and sent a yawl with the towline to us, but as ill-fortune would have it, the line was too short, and the captain of the tug was afraid to come in closer. So, away they had to go to Port Dalhousie for a longer line.

"About 8 o'clock they returned, and after several ineffectual attempts we managed finally to get the line on board, and well made fast round our mainmast. We had meanwhile shifted the cables, anchor, and some of her ballast forward, to lighten her in the stern from swinging our booms. As the swells came rolling up we got a little jerk, then a larger one and then finally we rose and fell on the waves once more.

"We immediately took her into Port Dalhousie and put her in Andrews' Dry Dock to ascertain the damage. We found it to be comparatively light. The shoe was twisted, and the stern-post and rudder-post broken. It was then determined to give her a new shoe and rudder post, and to splice the stern post.

July 27, Monday

Repairs actively going on. Expect to be ready by noon tomorrow. Taking advantage of the opportunity we resolved to scrape her off and give her a coat of black paint all over."

Ripple had a grand cruise after that. Some day soon we shall tell of it. Before doing so we would like to get on with Anne MacDonnell's Happier Brides Diary, the umpteenth installment of which is due next week.