More About the CANADA: Schooner Days MCLII (1152)

by C. H. J. Snider

THE CANADA which won the International Cup which we are striving to regain this summer was the third of her name in the Royal Canadian Yacht Club, when she was built in 1896. The second Canada, belonging to Ald. Henry Sherwood, took part in the first Prince of Wales regatta in 1860, and there had been a smaller Canada before her, when the club was founded.

Vencedor, Canada's opponent, was the larger yacht. In light weather she needed a thundering big clubtopsail. Jarvis insisted that its increase in sail area would throw her over measurement, and disqualify her. He was right. She abandoned it and lost the race. The next day, when it was blowing hard and raining, Vencedor asked for a postponement. She didn't want to shrink her brand new mainsail out of shape. Jarvis, weather wise, agreed. He knew Vencedor dould outsail Canada if it blew hard enough, and that by afternoon or the next day the blow might be over and Canada would have the better chance. When they did race it was blowing quite fresh, but dry, and Canada outwinded Vencedor so much that the latter, although leading, could not give the required time allowance and lost the race and the cup by 26 seconds.

Aemilius Jarvis, managing owner of the syndicate, had complete charge of everything, from the ordering of the design onwards. He chose his crew with the greatest care, all amateur yachtsmen like himself, all true and tried, all young, but no juveniles.

The amateurs who brought back the cup full of glory were, J. H. Fearnside of Hamilton; Gerald Boulton, Sidney Small, Wm. Moran, W. S. Clouston, Edward Bayley, Herbert Parsons, all prominent later in the social, professional and business life of Toronto.

HAD THE NEW LOOK

"Quick in stays as a bike and stiff as a church" was the way schooner hands described Canada when she came out. The bicycle, on which "scorchers" could knock off 15 miles an hour, was then our fastest personal vehicle. Such comment requires interpretation. Being quick in stays meant that Canada could turn fast from tack to tack. Stiff as a church meant that she stood up to her work and carried a press of canvas well.

She was really revolutionary in our eyes. All her ballast outside. It was not in a cigar-shaped bulb at the bottom of a metal plate like an enlarged centre board. This was the fin-keel, reliance of such yachts as the Vencedor. It saved bulk but gave more friction. Canada's ballast was so streamlined into the deadwood and that in turn streamlined into the body of the yacht that all seemed of one piece. Viewed end on, out of water, Canada's silhouette was that of a lily plant, springing from its bulb (the ballast) on a sweetly curved stalk (the deadwood) and swelling out into cup-shaped bloom (the hull).

Seen broadside, out of the water, Canada startled us by her overhangs and reversing curves. Hers was our first spoon bow. The convex curve of the stem swept in a segment of a circle to the waterline. There it flattened out and descended in a boldly reversed curve to the forefoot of the ballast. This rockered back in another flatter curve to the heel of the sternpost. The sternpost slanted upward in a straight line-—the only one in the whole profile-—towards the waterline. From there aft the hull tapered out to a feather edge. This cutaway forefoot and raking sternpost, and the long overhang make her so quick in turning. Hull, deadwood, and ballast, all emphasized the suggestion of the fast-swimming fish. The Elizabethans used to draw a fish first, and line out their hull profiles from that. We were so modern in 1896 that we had forgotten that, and we were "discovering" the idea that you can sail faster over the water than through it.

A GEM

Canada was finished like a piece of jewelry. Black enamel above, white enamel below, showing at the waterline in smart straight boot-topping. One line of gilt ribbon in a cove ran all around her, at deck level. On the port bow the arms of Canada's seven provinces, the well-known "patchwork quilt," were enameled in full color, surrounded by a gilded wreath of maple leaves. On the starboard was the blue white-crossed burgee of the R.C.Y.C., crown above and beaver below, circled in naval oak-leaves.

Pretty? Pretty as a picture. But all the prettiness, from the gilt ribbon downwards, except the enameled crests, disappeared under a dull grey coat of plumbago — blacklead, stove polish—when she went forth to war.

Especially was the white enameled underbody doomed to kitchen darkness. It looked lovely, but it was not nearly as smooth and slick as the polished blacklead which replaced it.

Canada's gentlemen amateurs put the blacklead on and polished it with their own strong hands and plenty of elbow grease.