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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, June 28, 1913, NOON EDITION, Image 12',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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Yachting is a grand sport for fair
weather, and a fair sport for rough
weather. But it is never fair to bring
along a landlubber when the seas
show signs of needing a good oiling.
A yacht must have a majn sail,
a rudder, a keel, a name, a jibboom
and a galley. But the main thing is
the galley. Here the invited guest
will find all the delicacies of the sea
son, from water biscuit to salt pork,
from soggy sandwiches to a bottled
cure for shark bites.
For the amateur or kidnaped
yachtsman there are two important
commands to be remembered.
One is, "Duck your head!"
This invariably comes a second too
late and the contact of a flying jib
against bewildered ivory is one of the
daily tragedies of the yachting sea
son. The other essential is, "Pipe all
hands to grog."
This order is very difficult to in
terpret. In fact, it is almost impossi
ble to convey to the unitiated the en
tire significance of the stentorian
summons, but it is most often used to
alleviate that dryness which comes
even in mid-ocean.
When one turns yachtsman the
following outfit is necessary:
One 'white yachting cap, with a
gold ice-pick sewed on the band; one
blue serge coat, decorated with brass
buttons marching two abreast; the
stripes of a rear admiral on. both
arms; a pair of white trousers which
should be designed to fit with the
nonchalance of paperhanger's jeans;
one pair of white shoes, which it
would be a shame to wet, and one
patent cigar lighter, warranted not
to go out except in the wind!
There are other needful accom
plishments which the earnest young
yachtsman will pick up in time. These
Include a repertoire of strictly nau
tical terms, such as "Shiver my sky
lights!" "Pickle my binnacle," and
"Hash-brown my top-gallant fo'cas
tle!" Many muscular but misguided
young men strip down to a swimming
shirt and a pair of dungarees and
spend the day slacking sail in mid
water, under the glaring disapproval
of Old Sol.
More successful yachtsmen remain
at the yacht club putting in the day
light hours arranging binoculars so
that eager young ladies may sight
seagulls roosting oil the horizon!
When the sunset gun booms, the
lads out on the sloops make their
hazardous return to shore and put in
the evening peeling blisters.
The gallant poreh sailor changes
into evening dress and navigates the
dance floor in the sea-sick motions
of the Lighthouse Lope.