Rough Lake Huron Tests the Ripple: Schooner Days MCLVII (1157)

by C. H. J. Snider

Toronto-Manitoulin, 1868 - 6

THE RIPPLE'S logbook of of 1868 continued:

August 7, Friday

Weather fair

Wind: S.W.

Distance to noon: 60 miles.

As soon as we came to the Goderich piers the wind headed us off, blowing down the stream and we just managed to reach the north pier. Then followed a long, wearisome job of warping in, first to one wharf, and then to another, at each of which we were warned we would have to shift when the steamers came in, until at last we began to fear we shouldn't get a berth at all.

We had also made fast our hauling line to a schooner which had not been properly moored, and away we both went adrift, rousing two men out of their berths on the schooner who thought they were lost altogether, and indulged in many not-very pleasant reflections on us, instead of on their own carelessness. At last we brought up alongside the Grand Trunk Elevator and Terminal and turned in to enjoy a snooze before meeting our friends the next morning.

Down they soon came, before breakfast and hearty were the rejoicings on both sides. Arthur Lee was told off to the port watch, Aleck Lee to the starboard watch and Morley to be steward.

TIP ON CRUISING

Lake Huron is a big, rough lake and involves continuous sailing, not merely daylight runs. The Ripple was now well manned to keep the lake night and day, with watches strong enough normally to work the 40-foot schooner without having to call "All hands!" except for emergencies.

Here is a point to remember about cruising:

Single-handling is all right for hermits and Captain Slocum, but the writer has done too much of it to ever hanker for the anchorite's cell. Two's company. While the yacht is under weigh there should always be two competent men on deck, one for the helm, and the other to see he does not fall asleep or overboard.

This was 86 years before 40 hours was dreamed a "working week" for the lakes. The Ripple practiced watch-and-watch, the old four hours on, four hours off, which meant an 84-hour week. We grew fat on that in schooner days, if it was accompanied by $1 a day in the summer and $2 spring and fall, with no layoffs. At the end of the season we had had three square meals a day for eight months, which was more than we might expect for the next four, and we had earned about $400 if we had been lucky enough to lose no time. That is why I took on the much harder job of newspaper work.

The Ripple's "division of labor" seems to have been:

Starboard Watch

Capt. Wagner (pro.).

Mr. Hanley.

Mr. Alex. Lee.

Mr. Morley, acting steward.

Port Watch:

Capt. W. C. Campbell, owner.

Pilot Blair.

Sutherland, pro., cook.

Mr. Arthur Lee.

There were enough men to give three able watches, which is the luxury of cruising. Four hours on, eight off, gives everyone eight hours' shut-eye in one piece. We had that in Aemilius Jarvis' Venture when bringing het home from Bristol. Regular watches, whether long or short, give all hands more pleasure in cruising than nighthawking all the time and sleeping when you have the Chance.

CONTINUING THE LOG

All day long was spent hosing our little vessel down and repairing the leaks in the scupper pipes, and when towards evening all was ready for a start the clouds to the west foretold a coming storm and we determined to wait till morning.

August 8, Saturday

Weather dull

Wind: S.W. blowing a gale

Distance to noon, 40 miles.

This has been one of our wicked days. At 7.30 a.m. we hauled out of the harbor to the south pier and made all sail, the wind still blowing hard and the sea outside running high. All eyes were upon us as the Captain took the helm.

"Cast off the bow line", then, as she paid off a little, "Haul aft the main sheet. Let go the stern line," and we were off.

Gallantly did the Ripple tear her way into the big heavy seas, clearing the north pier in splendid style and laying over to her cabin top. We now took in our jib, and put a reef in the mainsail, standing out about due west. After making an offing of a couple of miles, we lowered our mainsail and stood away for Kincardine, under our foresail and staysail The wind was now blowing a regular gale and the sea was very wild. Some cheeks blanched a little as we dived into the long, heavy swells, and as the white-crested mountains came roaring after us threatening to swallow us up bodily.

In two hours we reached Point Clark, 24 miles, but not without some mishaps. Our poor dinghy broke away from us as we were close on the reef, and not having our mainsail up we could not spare time to hoist it and go about in case we should drift on a dangerous reef that extends about three miles out from Point Clark.

Our poor steward suffered from internal qualms and preferred to be wet and comfortless on deck to having a good breakfast in my seat in the cabin. Still the wind blew, and the huge waves rolled and we were all as wet as any venturesome yachtsman could desire to be. But we had to go through with it till we should reach Kincardine, distant 14 miles.

About 5 miles off we had to jibe, and away went our fore gaff, snapped clean in two, and though we had taken the precaution to lower away the peak. Away too went the fore hatch, and an oar. However, 'nil desperandum' was our motto. Up goes the mainsail, double reefed, and off again for Kincardine. The entrance between the piers is narrow, and as the long, heavy swell rolled in it was as much as we could do to keep our yacht from broaching to. As it was she yawed from one side to the other, threatening every moment to smash us on one pier or the other.