TARANTELLA: by Capt. Nat

[Kim Whitmyre]

Very entertaining read on catamarans by Nathaniel Herreshoff. . .

http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1311/1476999831_307b9a283c_o.gif

The Catamaran Chronicle
by Nathanael Herreshoff
(Reprinted from The Spirit of the Times, November 24, 1877)

Introduction by L. Francis Herreshoff. Excerpted from An L.

Francis Herreshoff Reader, © 1978, International Marine Publishing

Co., Camden, Maine.
Introduction
I will make a few comments on this old article about catamarans,

which was printed 77 years ago, or before there were regular

yachting magazines in this country (if we except The Aquatic

Monthly, which was mostly
for oarsmen).
The general interest in catamarans of that time was caused by N.G.

Herreshoff's AMARYLLIS, which competed with single-hulled craft in

the Centennial Regatta held on June 22, 1876, off the New York

Yacht Club's Staten Island station. AMARYLLIS raced in class 3,

which was open to all boats between twenty-five and forty feet in

length. There were eleven starters in the race, including the best

of the large-sized sandbaggers of the time. In the first part of

the race, the wind was light and AMARYLLIS did rather poorly. This

put her in a place where she would have to pass most of the fleet

if she were to win, but when the race was about half over, a nice

sailing breeze sprang up and AMARYLLIS sailed gaily through the

fleet to win by twenty minutes and two seconds over the next

competitor, the famous sandbagger PLUCK AND LUCK. Some in the

class were forty or more minutes behind.
While AMARYLLIS won easily boat to boat, she was protested by

several of the competitors and subsequently ruled out, the prize

being given to the PLUCK AND LUCK. At that time, the papers called

AMARYLLIS a life raft and several things, but created all at once

an interest in catamarans, so that during the next ten years there

were about twenty of them on the Hudson River and the head of Long

Island Sound. However, their popularity was short lived,

principally because they were barred from all the regular classes,

although the Newburgh Bay Yacht Club ran special classes for

catamarans for a few years.
TARANTELLA was Captain Nat's second catamaran, and he had worked

out some of the weak points of AMARYLLIS. By the time this article

was written, he had probably had several hundred hours' experience

in sailing these craft, for he made long-distance cruises in them.
The JULIA that is spoken of in the first part of the article was

my grandfather's catboat, which had a shifting ballast car on

rails and so was fast to windward. The WM.R. BROWN, the WM. T.

LEE, and SUSIE S. and DARE DEVIL were crack sandbaggers of the

time whose crews were fighting mad because AMARYLLIS and other

catamarans had beaten them, for they thought they had the fastest

sailboats of their time. The reader must remember that this was

long before the automobile, or even privately owned steam launches

made much over twenty miles an hour, so the catamaran under

perfect conditions could make long runs nearly as fast as any

privately owned carrier. While the horse could travel fast for

short distances, it could not cover 150 miles very quickly, and

the speed of the catamarn was worthwhile in those days, even if it

is not now. Many of the prominent yacht designers of the past

wrote a little. Dixon Kemp perhaps was more of a writer than

designer. George L. Watson wrote quite a lot for the Scottish

papers, mostly under a nom de plume. Colin Archer contributed

copiously to the publications of the Society of Naval Architects,

particularly on the wave-line theory. However, this article and

one about the theoretical speed of iceboats are the only ones I

know of written by Captain Nat.
L.F.H.

user posted image

Bristol, R.I. 1. Nov. 10, 1877
The day of our starting (July 26) was most pleasant and

propitious. The high winds of the early summer had subsided into

those pleasant breezes which the yachtsmen love best, and the fogs

and rains of June were swallowed up by that invisible softness of

the air, which makes a sojourn by the sea so delightful and so

sought for. 'Tis our custom, when starting on a cruise, to race

down the bay with the JULIA, a cat-rigged boat whose speed is

always taken as a standard, and thus we can detect any error in

trim that otherwise might escape us. The one that beats the JULIA

is set down as all right. In this case the wind was fresh from the

south, and a beat dead to windward was the consequence. The

four-mile point was reached by the catamaran in 43 minutes; the

JULIA was then one mile astern. She turned back disgusted and we

went on contented. And now let me hasten to put right the minds of

many people, and particularly the yachting reporter of The Spirit

of The Times, on the subject of windward sailing by the catamaran.
It is true that the enormous disparity of speed between the

catamaran and an ordinarily built boat is most noticeable when

sailing with the wind a little abaft of beam. Sailing to windward

is a paradox at best, and a small amount thus gained is a greater

triumph than much greater distances gained in the headlong, free

wind sailing. Windward sailing is not a weak point of the

catamaran. I can, with a good whole sail breeze, beat to windward

faster, by a mile an hour at least, than any sailing vessel

afloat, or I can beat the WM. R. BROWN, the WM.T.LEE, the SUSIE

S., DARE DEVIL, or any other boat of that class that can be named,

one-quarter, or five miles to their four, under the conditions

before mentioned. I'm not making an idle, empty boast. I know well

of what I am writing. I have sailed every class of vessel, from

the small cat-boat up to the first-class yacht, and their

performances are individually familiar to me. And further, if the

owners of the boats whose names I have mentioned, want to be

practically convinced of this, that is, of the speed of the

windward sailing of the catamaran, the best way for them is to try

it on. I shall be only too happy to do so anywhere and at any

time.

continued. . .

[Kim Whitmyre]

Our first night we anchored in Newport Harbor, and hoisting our

tent, made ourselves as comfortable as could be. The tent is

pitched under the boom, which is hoisted well up overhead, and the

whole of the car, which is 16' long by 8-1/2' wide, is covered by

it. Under it there is plenty of room for several to sit or stand

protected from wind or rain. Our preparations for sleeping were

short and simple. Our beds of blankets were made, and the air

cushions on which we sat by day, we dreamed on by night.
Camping out in a catamaran is pleasanter than one would think. The

tent affords such perfect shelter, and the floor of the car is so

broad and flat, that it seems more like a little house on the land

than a veritable flying machine. In the midst of our sleeping, a

fresh northeaster came whistling in the rigging overhead. We

aroused a little, only to give her more cable, which she took with

great promptness. A fair wind induces an early starting, and, at

six next morning, we were off, with a fresh breeze from the north

and the sky slightly overcast. The run from the Torpedo Station to

Fort Adams was made in true catamaran style. Thought I, were there

only a straight course to New York, we would get there in ten

hours. But, at the Fort Wharf, turning before the wind, everything

became calm and quiet.
If, in a catamaran, you are sorely pressed by wind or wave, turn

her bow to leeward. There you will find comfort and consolation,

so light she is, and presents so little resistance, that the wind

blows her along like a bubble floating in the air. We laid to off

Point Judith at seven, for breakfast, after which reinforcement we

continued with the wind gradually dying. When off the Connecticut

River we decided to steer for the Long island shore. We had not

gone far on that course when the wind hauled back to east and

commenced blowing. Now, with the wind east in Long Island Sound,

and blowing a single-reef breeze, it does not take long to kick up

a sea, especially with an ebb tide. At least it did not that day,

and soon the TARANTELLA commenced to race, lifted and borne on the

crest of a wave, she should shoot forward with incredible speed.

We settled away on the peak halyards and made, in effect, a

leg-of-mutton sail from the mainsail. This made a very easy rig,

and one particularly adapted for off-wind sailing.
And now, whilst we are flying along, with the waves lifting and

breaking high under the after tie-beam, let us overhaul another of

the alleged failings of the catamaran, to wit: their tendency to

turn over endwise or pitchpole. Now, the center of effort of the

sails of the TARANTELLA is 14 '6" above the waterline. With the

wind abaft of beam, the tendency to bury the bows of the hull is

quite obvious. This desire to bury forward is corrected, in a

measure, first by having more than an ordinarily large jib, which,

on account of its inclined position, lifts strongly that part of

the boat. Then the midship link, at which point is imparted most

of the press of the sails upon the leeward boat, is so placed in

relation to the displacement of the hulls that the downward push

(to which the force of the wind on the sails is resolved) presses

more toward the stern, so the leeward boat always keeps in good

fore-and-aft trim. The trouble then lies only in the lifting of

the stern of the windward hull. Of course, if you lift the stern

of the boat, and thus make the bow bury itself, the effect is just

the same, and just as unpleasant as when the bow sinks for want of

buoyancy with the trim of the stern where it should be.
Building the catamaran high in the bows cannot remedy this fault

in the least degree; the only thing to be done is to take care of

the stern, and the bow will take care of itself. Having stationary

ballast will keep the stern down, but this is against my

principles. I want to have everything about the boat as light as

can possibly be; so when the stern of the TARANTELLA looks light,

my companion sits on it, and says it is one of the best seats on

the whole boat. It is almost always dry, and one gets there a real

sense of the speed with which she tears along.

[Kim Whitmyre]

[FONT="Arial"]At 6 p.m., we drew near Port Jefferson, which I have always found

a pleasant halfway stopping-place. The tide was nearly out, and a

strong current setting in against us from the harbor. But in a

catamaran nobody cares about those little places where the tide

runs swiftly, and where you are mounting a little hill; the sails

are so large, compared with the whole weight, that I really

believe the TARANTELLA would climb the side of a mountain, if her

element would only arrange itself in the position of one. The

proportion of superficial area of the sails to the weight of the

whole boat complete is one square foot for each 4 Ibs. of water

displaced, lnaraceboat,say,25' long, with a large rig and ballast

to carry it, the proportion is 1 ' of canvas to 8 Ibs. of water

displaced. In a first-class yacht, such as the IDLER, the

proportion is 1 ' to 28 Ibs. of displacement. Why shouldn't the

catamaran sail with such power? But what seems wonderful is that

they should carry it so long and so well. The TARANTELLA will

carry her sails, and carry them as well and safely as any fairly

rigged yacht afloat. But their masters are apt to err in carrying

sail beyond all reason. The sense of safety makes them reckless.
July 28 was one of those perfectly dead, quiet days that I have

often experienced at the head of Long Island Sound. It was

particularly so this day, and a decent day's work could not be

made, not even in a catamaran. We anchored in Cow Bay in the early

evening, pitched our tent in a sullen rain, and consoled ourselves

with the idea that we were better there than in a worse place. The

29th was a little better, and we found ourselves at Hell Gate, at

10 a.m., with the lightest and most untrustworthy of breezes from

SE, and the tide half flood. However, we put her to it, and by

good luck, and that ability of hers to go upstairs, we got

through, and finally anchored in Gowanus Basin.
On the morning of the 30th, there was a fresh breeze from the

north, and we commenced the ascent of the Hudson. I kept a sharp

lockout, expecting every moment to see Captain Meigs in his

METEOR, and I thought then, as I have often since, what has become

of him? In The Spirit of May 26, Mr. Meigs has much to say about

the comparative merits of the flexible joint system, used in the

connection of my catamaran, and the rigid or partly rigid plan

that he pursues. For illustration, he makes use of a most happy

simile, which, I think, serves my purpose better than it does his.

'Twas that of two drunken brothers wending their way through the

streets, arm-in-arm. So long as they keep walking on a smooth,

level plain, their connections are undisturbed, but if, in their

erratic course, one of them would step off the curbstone into the

gutter, the other one, if he undertook to keep his brother on the

same plane as himself, would find It very irksome, and after

several repetitions of that sort of thing, I think they would be

glad to part company.
But the laws of nature, which Mr. Meigs talks about, have made

most admirable provisions for this emergency. She has placed in

the shoulder of each brother a perfect ball-and-socket joint,

which allows one to raise himself over an obstacle, or sink into a

depression, without disturbing their union, or the laying out of

any strength on either side, which would tend at last to make the

bond tiresome and injurious.
In the afternoon, as we were near the head of Haverstraw Bay,

there came a squall from the east-ward, and a peeler, too. We

furled the jib, and settled away a little on the peak of the

mainsail. The catamarans seem to possess a remarkable ability to

steer well under any disposition of sail. I have beat them to

windward, coming about surely every time with the jib alone, or

with nothing but the mainsail. With mainsail at double or three

reefs, they always work well; but what seems oddest of all, I have

worked the TARANTELLA under the storm-jib alone, a little sail

containing only a hundred square feet. With it I could beat to

windward, and come Into stays every time. When the wind and rain

had ceased, and the great black clouds with their thunder had

rolled away to leeward, I discovered two catamarans a short

distance ahead, and on coming up with them, I found my first-born,

the AMARYLLIS, and the CARRIE, a smaller one. We sailed along in

company for several miles; and as we approached the old

Donderberg, there came yet another squall from the same direction.

There was more wind than in the first, but as for the rainfall, it

defied all description. There fell nearer whole water than I've

ever seen either before or since. An obstruction in the scupper of

the car caused the water to collect with such rapidity that I

think it must have filled it, had it not been cleared.
The TARANTELLA and AMARYLLIS stayed near Peekskill that night, and

the CARRIE elsewhere, for we saw nothing of her after the squall.
The next day commenced with a calm and an ebb tide, so the

navigation of the Hudson became rather tedious. The beautiful

scenery of the Highlands, however, fully compensated for the lack

of wind and our consequent slow progress. Farther on, toward West

Point, a fresh breeze sprung from the north, and the rest of the

trip was made most pleasantly. As for the regatta next day,

nothing here need be said, for it has been most fully described,

[we assume that TARANTELLA won. — Eds.] I can only regret it was

not a dead to windward and leeward race. In that event, the minds

of many reporters would have been put to rest in respect to the

TARANTELLA in comparison with the other racing boats.

[Kim Whitmyre]

On the

morning of August 2, we started on our homeward trip and found the

sailing on the Hudson just as treacherous as ever as far as the

old Donderberg. A fine breeze from the eastward, and backing to

the northeast, made the rest of the trip to South Brooklyn very

short; for, as we neared New York, the breeze became unwarrantably

fresh, and with all jib, and the mainsail partly settled away, we

flew along at more than steamboat speed. Now and then a more than

usually strong flaw would strike her, upon which her bows would be

lifted in air, like the taking flight of a great bird who was

uncertain which to make her favorite element, the sea or sky. Once

comfortable at anchor at the Gowanus Basin, and sitting quietly

under our tent, we talked of the folly of many people who make an

effort to combine the catamaran and the cabin yacht.
In my opinion, the catamaran is a perfectly distinct variety of

vessel, having its own peculiarities and characteristics, and any

attempt to cross it with the old form of yacht results only in a

mongrel production having none of the advantages that make the

catamaran so attractive, and retaining all the bad qualities of

the single-hulled yacht, with unwieldiness and ugliness combined.
The catamaran should be preserved always in its pure form. 'Tis a

light, airy, fantastic machine for flying and floating, and if one

attempts to inflict a cabin on her, all the lightness is lost, and

I feel sure that such a craft will prove in every respect

unsatisfactory. At least it shall always be my aim to develop the

characteristics that belong purely to the catamaran, and make the

gap between it and the old craft wider and wider.
I haved demonstrated, at least to my own mind, that cruising in

the catamaran is both pleasant and practicable. To those who are

truly in love with aquatic sports, the tent affords sufficient

shelter, and if anyone wants a cabin, it is clear in my mind he

doesn't want a catamaran. The outlook on the next morning (the

fourth) was most promising, and we started at six on the front of

a fresh northwest breeze. Then commenced a most magnificent day's

sailing. Off every point we were greeted with flaws that would

send us flying at such a pace as to almost annihilate distance.

Points ten or fifteen miles ahead were made and passed in an

incredibly short time. But, after all, it was not a day to make

continuous fast time. The wind was so unsteady, and our speed,

consequently, so variable, that the fastest time made between any

two points was seven miles in 28 minutes. We ran from Stratford

Light to Faulkner's Island at the rate of thirteen miles an hour.
After passing the Connecticut River, the wind hauled more toward

the west and became much lighter, so our hopes of reaching home

that night almost failed us, but again between Watch Hill and

Point Judith, fresh flaws favored us, and we turned into our home

sailing ground at four in the afternoon.
The sail up Narragansett Bay was most lovely; though its banks

were not as high and as boldly beautiful as those of the Hudson,

the islands, now alight with the glow of the declining sun, had a

peaceful beauty of their own. As is common here in summer, the

northwest breeze departs with the sun, and that evening at eight

o'clock it fell a perfect calm, leaving us a provoking 100 yards

from our landing; however, that day's sail, though it closed in

ignominy, was a great triumph. A 140-mile run in 14 hours, or in

easy daylight in the summer season, was enough to suit anyone's

fancy: at least I was fully contented. I have made lately several

trials of windward speed in the TARANTELLA, the best of which was

a beat to Newport from Bristol, a distance of 13 miles. The wind

was so nearly ahead that the sum of the length of the port tacks

was 7-3/4 miles, whilst that of the starboard was 8-1/4 miles.

This run was made in 1 hour 53 minutes. The tide was fair. From

this and several other similar trials, I have rated the maximum

speed of the TARANTELLA, dead to windward, at 6-1/2 miles an hour.

Of her speed, in free wind sailing, the fastest I have actually

measured was 18 miles an hour, though on one other occasion I am

positive of sailing over 22 miles an hour. It was at the first

striking of a squall, and the water was nearly dead smooth.

Unfortunately, I was not near any point where I could take time.

These extreme speeds are by no means made every day in the week.

In our average summer winds, say, about three-fourths of a whole

sail breeze, the catamaran, sailing free, will go 15 or 16 miles

an hour. As the season advanced, and the winds became stronger, I

had several opportunities of trying the TARANTELLA under shortened

sail. With a three-reefed mainsail and storm-jib, I made as fast

time in smooth water as under any condition. With adouble-reefed

mainsail alone, she worked admirably to windward. But what seemed

to me most surprising was that, under shortened sail, she would

make remarkably good time, even faster than the common style of

yachts, and that in breezes when all sail might be carried. One

day, late in September, the wind in force and direction chanced

right for me to race with the RICHARD BORDEN, our fastest bay

steamer. I lay in wait for her as she was making her daily trip to

Providence and pounced upon her off Papoosesquaw Point. I passed

her with the greatest ease, and at Rocky Point I was a full

half-mile ahead, notwithstanding the breeze, which over the last

part of the course became quite moderate. The distance sailed was

4-1/2 miles. In regard to next season, and what it may bring forth

in the further development of the catamaran ,I do not at this

moment see where I should change the construction and arrangement

of the catamarans that I have built this year. I have always in

view improvement, and to that end have devised a new rig, which I

shall try on my next catamaran. ***
Yours,
N.G.HERRESHOFF

from (http://www.duckworksmagazine.com/r/vintage/catamaran/)

[Woxbox]

Great post. Thanks. Amazing how long it took for cats to become commonplace.

[Kim Whitmyre]

This passage is telling:

"Once comfortable at anchor at the Gowanus Basin, and sitting quietly under our tent, we talked of the folly of many people who make an effort to combine the catamaran and the cabin yacht. In my opinion, the catamaran is a perfectly distinct variety of vessel, having its own peculiarities and characteristics, and any attempt to cross it with the old form of yacht results only in a mongrel production having none of the advantages that make the
catamaran so attractive, and retaining all the bad qualities of the single-hulled yacht, with unwieldiness and ugliness combined. The catamaran should be preserved always in its pure form. 'Tis a light, airy, fantastic machine for flying and floating, and if one attempts to inflict a cabin on her, all the lightness is lost, and I feel sure that such a craft will prove in every respect unsatisfactory."

[Woxbox]

Well, the Gunboat (below) among others, pulls the whole package together if money is no object. I'm part owner of an older cruising cat, a 35' Fountain Pajot, which isn't as fast as a Gunboat or Nat's little boat, but plenty comfortable and decent under sail, too.

Catamarans have come a long way. I didn't realize Tarantella had flexible joints, as does your Wharram. Nat knew his stuff.

http://www.morrellimelvin.com/sailboats/cruising/art/Cream2.jpg

[Kim Whitmyre]

I knew this vessel was in the offing: just saw these pictures today. Hans Klaar has his new double-canoe "Ontong Java" sailing after a nearly 5 year design build in East Africa:

http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1201/1480669307_6297abcbf1_o.jpg

http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1165/1481527718_cd03b4956c_o.jpg

http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1133/1481527802_2ba4611022_o.jpg

Here's a letter Klaar wrote to James Wharram that describes the basics:

"Hi James and Hanneke

"How are you all? Went on your web site and saw in the forum that the hunt was on for who has seen the whereabouts of my old boat Rapa Nui, funny that. Well I have been rather busy myself the last 9 months and gave birth, or so it seems, to a new voyaging canoe and the teething seems also to be over its worst, after sailing 2000 miles, most of it over open ocean.

"So I can now say, yes in its extant it took me 4 years to dream up, 6 months to build (from 2 bare tree trunks 4 foot diameter and 27 feet long), 2 months for the rig, crab claw naturally, a very refined version, asymmetric hulls, built along the line of the Anaan, Tuamotuan canoes as seen by both Commodore Wilkes and Admiral Paris (approx. 1845).

"Here are the dimensions: starboard hull is 71 feet LOA, 8 feet beam, 6 feet deep; port hull is 57 feet LOA, 8 feet beam, 6 feet deep; draft over all is 2 feet. Deck platform 42 by 21 feet, beam over all 22 feet, 7000 kg plus/minus looking at the weight of the dried wood used.

"Tacks like a dream all one way, no hanging back at the last moment, and takes off once through the eye of wind almost at once, holds a good 50 degrees on the wind and leaves a nice straight wake aft. I can handle her totally on my own, self-steers very well. Something funny goes on with this one mast that seems to make it possible. One example is 400 miles in 40 hours, jib to tiller steering (controlled surfing if one can call it that) with fully reefed main in 28 knots of wind.

"Will head out for the Pacific come January, are at the moment in Brazil on our way to Trinidad-Tobago. Hope you like the lines and that all is well in Devoran.

"Greetings, Hans Klaar"