Boats

On a ferry pier in Manhattan a crowd of commuters waiting for the boat that would take them to Staten Island saw a line of small boats come round the curve of the harbor. They were racing, each boat a dark point capping a triangle of spray; the commuters looked on with interest. Suddenly one boat choked, caught fire; the men on board could be seen working wildly, throwing something on the burning engine. The other boats swept on, then in a feather of foam one swerved, capsized; a coast guard cutter raced out to pick up the men in the water, the crowd on the dock cheered. It was all, they saw, fine and exciting, dangerous, picturesque, good fun.

Next day the commuters read in their papers how the outboard motorboats that they had seen had raced round Staten Island and how Baby Olds, piloted by D. W. Brewster, had won after Miss Princess caught fire and the Corson upset. And they read how in all the waters fringing the continent little boats, big boats, sailboats, motorboats, were being launched, sailed, raced.

Outboard Motorboats last week lined up in Boston to race down the stretch of open water to the Cape Cod Canal, through the canal, Fisher's Island and Long Island Sounds to Flushing, N. Y. Along the coast four destroyers and 40 Coast Guard boats were stationed to mark the course, help the disabled. Seventy boats jockeyed around the starting line until a cannon boomed.

Calm seas, clear skies favored the racers impartially until they neared the canal.

Here a stretch of rough water called forth desperate efforts, threw two capsized sportsmen to the waiting rescue ships, gave a comfortable lead to a seaworthy Corker sea sled driven by Charles P. Stevens of Albany, N. H. Racer Stevens never lost his head. His time: 14 hrs., 5 minutes, 37 seconds.*

Sailboats of all sizes raced at Glen Cove, L. I., in the annual regatta of the New York Yacht Club. The tallest, slimmest and most famous of them all, Harry Payne Whitney's Vanitie, always sails against the Resolute and often wins. This time it won but was disqualified for failing to cross the starting line properly. At Southport, Conn., Princeton beat Yale and Harvard in a race of eight-metre boats (see p. 34).

"Steam Yacht ready for launching" said the telegram received in Cincinnati by Julius Fleishmann, yeast heir. It meant that his twin-screw, clipper stem, Diesel yacht, with its accommodations for 14 guests, its lockers holding food enough for eight months at sea, its living room, smoking room, dining room, its owner's private gymnasium, lounge room, and dressing room, its cold storage plant, its shining mahogany and brass, was standing at the head of a slide in Manhattan, worth $625,000. Mrs. Fleishmann christened it.

* Thirteen years ago Thomas Fleming Day, deep sea voyager, hung a one-cylinder Evinrude over the side of a twelve-ft. dinghy and chugged 233 nautical miles from New York to Boston to test the reliability of the newly discovered, much-criticized outboard motor. A power cruiser accompanying the dinghy broke down twice, three times. Pioneer Day completed the course. His time: 52 hrs., 47 minutes.