EAST DONYLAND​ / ROWHEDGE

THE NEW YORK TIMES - 24 September 1885 - “COMING BACK IN A STORM. THE GENESTA HAS A ROUGH EXPERIENCE. SEVERAL OF HER CREW INJURED AND ONE NEARLY WASHED OVERBOARD - THE DAUNTLESS MANY MILES BEHIND. The fourth race for the Brenton’s Reef Challenge Cup, instead of starting at 4 o’clock on Monday afternoon last, the appointed time, would not have been started much before midnight if the Press steam yacht Ocean King had not picked up the Genesta in the Swash Channel and towed her out to the Sandy Hook Lightship. The Regatta Committee’s boat, Luckenbach, had taken the Dauntless in tow and left the Genesta to sail out, but the wind soon fell so flat that the cutter, having to stem a strong flood tide, would in all probability not have been able to get outside of the Hook. As it was the start was an hour late, and then the wind was so light that both yachts had great difficulty to cross the line. The Genesta, after casting off her tow, stood to the eastward of the lightship and had a good deal of trouble to get back above the line. When she first tried to go about, after the preparatory signal had been given at 4:50, she had so little way on that she missed stays, and it was not until about 10 minutes later, when she caught a light sheet of air, that she gathered way enough to go about. She finally succeeded in getting close up to the southward of the Luckenbach, which was stationed about southeast from the lightship, and then veered around under the stern of the tug and went over the line at 5:12:35. The Dauntless, after drifting for a time helplessly to the westward of the line, managed to veer around and point her nose toward it. She crossed at 5:22:55.

At that time the sun was sinking behind a heavy bank of cloud. Immediately about the sun the cloud was convoluted, twisted, and suffused with a dull red, while further to the South it was a featureless mass of dull blue black. It was, indeed, a stormy sunset, and it gave every promise that the Signal Service prediction of a cyclone disturbance, extending from the Gulf up the Atlantic coast, would be speedily fulfilled. Still, yachtsmen who sail ocean races are not to be daunted by weather signs or prognostications; and even if they were, it was then too late to turn back, for their yachts were upon the open sea and their time had been officially taken. The wind, such as it was, was south at the start, but it soon died out, and then made a feeble attempt to start up again from south-west by south.

The Genesta meanwhile had run away from the Dauntless, which scarcely moved in the languid breeze, and by 6 o’clock was fully two miles ahead. About this time the bark Conte Arturo L, of Trieste, which had been towed to sea in the morning by the Ocean King, lay in position to blanket the Dauntless. The Genesta had passed her to the windward, but it was plainly impossible for the schooner to do likewise, and the skipper of the bark gallantly put up his helm and bore away to the leeward of the yacht. It took the old bark 10 minutes to get out of the yacht’s way, but she managed it. At 6:30 the Dauntless, catching a light breeze, began to overhaul the cutter, and by 7:15 was within half a mile of her. That, however, was nearer than she ever got to the cutter again. At 9 o’clock a light breeze sprang up from the south-east, and the Genesta, catching it first, ran away from the schooner. During the succeeding 20 hours the yachts encountered a most variable and baffling wind. It was generally light and from the southeast, but it repeatedly shifted three or four points to the eastward, and then back again, alternately heading the yachts off and enabling them to lay their course. The Ocean King, following close to the Genesta, left the Dauntless hull down before midnight, but at daylight on Tuesday morning she was discovered almost abeam of the cutter two or three miles in shore.

The Genesta, frequently forced to beat by the shifting wind, made her way slowly up the Long Island coast. At 12:20 on Tuesday morning she had Fire Island Light abeam, but did not get abreast of Shinnecock, 35 miles further eastward, until 8:55. It was 5 p.m. before she reached Montauk Point. From that time out, however, she made better time, and covered the 35 miles between Montauk and Brenton’s Reef in a trifle over four hours and a half. She rounded Brenton’s Reef Lightship at 9:38:50, and freeing her sheets to a fresh northeast wind, started on her homeward run like a scared duck.

The weather, which had been cloudy and threatening all during Tuesday morning, began to make up for mischief early in the afternoon. It began to rain shortly after 1 o’clock, and by 5 o’clock rain was falling heavily. The wind freshened steadily also as the afternoon waned, and by the time the Genesta rounded Brenton’s Reef Lightship a strong northeaster was blowing. At this time, too, Capt. Cantain, of the yacht Ocean King, made the unpleasant discovery that the clouds were scurrying across the sky from northwest to southeast, while the wind on the surface of the ocean was blowing from the northeast. This, taken with the fact that the barometer had been steadily falling during the afternoon and evening until it had reached the alarmingly low figure of 29.25, was accepted as an especially evil omen. Capt. Cantain had all of his awnings taken in and everything movable snugly housed, but the Englishman held on to his big sprit topsail and his jib topsail as if there was nothing like mischief in the air. He went flying on his way home, passing Point Judith at 10:15 and Block Island at 10:55. At 11:22, about four miles westward of the northwest light on Block Island, he passed the Dauntless going east. Nothing had been seen of her since noon, and as she had no main topsail set it was taken for granted that some accident had happened to her. She vanished like a shadow, and the Genesta sped on her way to the open sea. At 11:30 the wind fell flat, and for about 15 minutes there was almost a dead calm. Then the wind came out of the northwest, and by midnight a gale was howling over the ocean. Under its pressure the tremendous topsail of the Genesta heeled her over until at times her sails seemed to lie down flat upon the waves. Still the Englishman held on to his topsail, and at 12:25 yesterday morning had Montauk light abeam on her starboard hand. But by this time the wind had gathered too much strength even for a cutterman, and Capt. Carter attempted to shorten sail somewhat. He started with his jib topsail, but no sooner were the halyards let go than the sail was hurled into the water and torn into shreds. The fragments were caught up by the bobstay and the port guy of the bowsprit and brought home as fluttering rags. Notwithstanding that experience Capt. Carter held on to his topsail until 3:55. All this time he had been standing out to sea on the starboard tack. At 4:10 he went about on the port tack and stood in shore, and at the same time housed his topmast. At 5:30 the gale had increased so much in strength that he put a reef in his mainsail. At 6:19 there was so much sea running and the Genesta was plunging so heavily that Capt. Carter partly housed his bowsprit and set a smaller jib. At 6:50, about half way between Montauk Point and Shinnecock, he went about on the starboard tack within half a mile of the breakers and laid his course along the beach. There was less chop to the sea in there, but tremendous rollers went tumbling after each other toward the shore, where they broke in great clouds of spray, so that the coast seemed to be enveloped in a thick fog bank. The little cutter bobbed up and down on these huge waves like a cork, at times plunging head foremost until her bowsprit disappeared clear up to the catheads, at times lying over on her port side until her mainsail lapped the sea 15 feet above the boom, at times shipping a sea that swept her decks from stem to stern, to the imminent peril of every man on deck.

About noon one of these seas tumbled over her weather bow and swept two men from their feet in her lee waist. One of the men was thrown violently upon the deck, where he lay stunned, while the other was swept half overboard and hung across the rail with his legs dangling in the sea. Fortunately, however, two of his shipmates grabbed him in the nick of time and dragged him back to the deck. This incident occurred off Fire Island. At 12:25 a second reef was put in her mainsail, and at 2:30 the third and last reef was taken in. It was all an exceedingly difficult and dangerous job, reeling in that heavy sea, it being necessary to send two men along the main sheet out to the end of the boom, which would frequently fly up into the air with a jerk sufficient to throw them 50 feet away, and at other times dip alarmingly near to the crests of the waves. At the same time it was necessary for a number of men to be in the lee waist, incurring the peril of being swept overboard by the violent seas that were consistently sweeping her deck. At this time the wind was blowing from 45 to 60 miles an hour.

After the last reef was put in her mainsail, the Genesta’s staysail, which had been previously reefed, was taken in, and then she made much better weather, as well as better time, and by 4:45 she was off the big hotel at Rockaway. Then she bore broad off and ran down to the Sandy Hook Lightship, which was about five miles south of the course she had laid. She luffed around the lightship and finished her perilous race at 5:19:40. Her official time was 48:19:40, and her actual time, having been handicapped 12 minutes 35 seconds at the start, was 48:07:05. This is the slowest time that has ever been made over the course, the previous records being 32 hours, 39 hours, and 43 hours, the first made by the schooner Idler and the other two by the schooner Rambler. The Dauntless was reported off Fire Island about the time the Genesta was finishing. She was about 33 miles behind.

After the Genesta passed the lightship she signalled the Ocean King for a tow just as that vessel, which had stopped a short distance north of the lightship to pick up a drifting rowboat, was about to run down and offer to tow her up to Staten Island. The sea was so rough that it was very difficult to get a tow line aboard the yacht, the danger of the two vessels coming violently together being very great. After repeated efforts, however, the line was finally got aboard, and the yacht was towed up to Tompkinsville. On the way up, while trying to get in her jib, a man was struck on the head by a block and painfully cut, though not seriously injured. The man previously stunned was revived in the Genesta’s cabin. Her list of casualties included one man whose ankle was broken, the same who was nearly washed overboard, one man injured internally, and one man with a broken finger. Sir Richard Sutton and his guests escaped injury. The Genesta also parted the port side stay of her bowsprit and was therefore unlucky in saving that stick.

The boat picked up by the Ocean King may be claimed by its owner of the police at Atlantic Dock, Brooklyn.”

THE NEW YORK TIMES - 27 September 1885 - “Sir Richard Sutton, the owner of the English cutter Genesta, sailed for England at 6 o’clock yesterday morning on the Cunard steamship Etruria. Owing to the early hour at which the vessel left, few persons went down to the steamer to bid farewell to the returning yachtsman.”

THE NEW YORK TIMES - 29 September 1885 - “WINNING A THIRD VICTORY - THE GENESTA’S EASY VICTORY OVER THE DAUNTLESS - THE RACE TO CAPE MAY AND BACK PRACTICALLY LITTLE MORE THAN A WALKOVER FOR THE ENGLISH CUTTER - The race for the Cape May Challenge Cup between the Genesta and the schooner Dauntless, which was finished yesterday morning by the return of the Genesta, was in reality little more than a walkover for the Genesta, as she held the lead from start to finish, and came in many hours ahead. The yachts had an excellent start on Saturday afternoon. The starting signal was given at 3:57, and the Genesta, crossing 15 seconds later, was handicapped by so many seconds, while the Dauntless started 1 minute and 5 seconds behind the Genesta and was handicapped 1 minute and 20 seconds. Between two yachts at all equally matched this difference of time in starting would, in so long a race, 246 miles, have amounted to nothing at all. But the Dauntless requires half a gale of wind to drive her through the water at her best, while the Genesta attains her highest speed in moderate or fresh breezes. In this race the Genesta had every advantage; the winds were moderate throughout and the sea exceptionally smooth.

At the start the tide was at the first of the flood, and there was a moderate wind from the south-southeast. Both yachts crossed the line on the starboard tack, the Genesta having a lead of about a quarter of a mile, which she increased to fully a mile and a half before she went about. Soon after the racers crossed the line the wind hauled to the south and freshened materially, so that whatever they gained by going through the water faster was more than counterbalanced by their having to beat down the Jersey coast. The Dauntless held the windward position at the start, and for a time seemed to point very well with the Genesta, but at the end of an hour and a half she had sagged to the leeward, besides being badly outfooted by the cutter, and she went about at 5:28 to try her luck on another tack. She was then carrying, in addition to her ordinary sails, a club topsail, maintopmast staysail, and balloon jib topsail. Soon after going about she took in her balloon jib topsail and set a small jib topsail. The Genesta carried a sprit topsail, plain head sails, and a little jib topsail. She held on the starboard tack 11 minutes longer than the Dauntless, and finally went about on the latter’s weather quarter nearly hull down. Such were the relative positions they occupied standing down the Jersey beach when darkness shut them out of sight.

 The ocean tug Luckenbach, after convoying the Genesta for a while, went over to bear the Dauntless company, and when this yacht went about off Seabright, at 6:35, she left her again to look for the Genesta. From the time when darkness concealed her the yachtsmen on board the Genesta saw nothing more of the Dauntless until about 5 o’clock on the following afternoon, when they passed her on their return from the Cape May Lightship. However, from the decks of the Luckenbach, which failed to pick up the Genesta immediately, the Dauntless was seen to go about off Long Branch at 7:30 0’clock. At the same time the Genesta was off Ashbury Park. The Genesta, standing alternately in and off shore, beat her way down the coast, and at 9:30 made Barnegat Light south west by south, about 20 miles distant.

The moon, two days on the wane, came up soon after 7 o’clock. As the Genesta was leading, the Luckenbach kept with her. The Dauntless was far astern. If there had been no other sails in the field of vision it might have been possible to distinguish her during the greater part of the night, but there were sails in every direction, and it was like looking for a particular stalk in a cornfield to try and make her out in that shadowy fleet. At 2 A.M. of Sunday the Genesta had made Tucker’s Beach Light, at the entrance of Egg Harbor, and by 4 A.M., when she was abreast of this, Absecom Light was blinking over the waves. When morning dawned there was the same stately procession of sailing and steam craft, and soon after 7 o’clock one of the latter, the City of Atlanta, bound from Charleston to New-York, turned out of her course to avoid going to the windward of the Genesta, whom she saluted as she passed. The cutter’s colors were fixed to her mast and her peak, and she consequently could not answer the salute, so the Luckenbach answered for her.

The Dauntless could not be seen even with a glass, and at 9 o’clock, after the Genesta had passed Absecom, the Luckenbach went back to look for her. The Luckenbach steamed fully five miles, but even then there was no sail in sight that could be made out as hers. By this time the Genesta was dropping down below the southern horizon and the Luckenbach could not venture any further north without running the risk of losing her. When the Genesta was overtaken, the “Northeast End” or upper lightship on the Five Fathom Bank was visible in the southwest. From this lightship to the “Five Fathom” or Cape May Lightship, which is the one the Genesta had to turn, the distance is 11 statute miles. The wind was south and light, and as the Genesta made slow progress the Luckenbach went straight to the lightship and awaited her arrival there. The afternoon was more than half gone when she went round the lightship, which she did at 8:35:23. She came down to it on the starboard tack, luffed around, set her spinnaker, and swept grandly away on the homeward journey.

Both lightships were flying flags and bunting in expectation of the racers, and at the lower was found the sloop Ellwood Becker, in which a party of adventurous Jersey men had come out from Atlantic City, about 30 miles distant. At 5:15 P.M. the Dauntless was sighted in the northeast, above the upper lightship. Half an hour later the Luckenbach, which had been immediately steered for her, came up with her. It was then discovered that her foretopmast had gone by the board. It was in all probability lost by carrying her big balloon jibtopsail without properly staying it, as there had been no wind sufficient to carry anything away. Otherwise she was all right, and after saluting her the Luckenbach steamed away to overtake the Genesta. The Dauntless was then about 14 miles from the lower lightship, and consequently 28 miles behind.

Night set in after a stormy-looking sunset. The wind had fallen, and for an hour and a half, from 6:30 to 8 o’clock, there was an almost dead calm. Then a light wind came out of the west and forced the Genesta to take in her spinnaker and jibe her mainsail from port to starboard. The wind increased steadily and by 10 o’clock was blowing a good whole-sail breeze, before which the cutter was scudding with free sheets. The wind, however, gradually backed to the north and forced her to do a little beating before morning. She was by that time, however, well above Barnegat, and when, after daybreak, a fine breeze came from the north-east, she was able to lay her course for the Sandy Hook Lightship, which she passed at 10:11:55 in the forenoon, thereby finishing the race and winning her third cup. She was at once taken in tow by the Luckenbach and brought up to Staten Island. On the way up she bent a Royal Yacht Squadron signal to her signal halyards over three of her private signals to indicate  that she had won three races, and these she dipped from time to time in answer to salutes. The  steam yachts Nooya and Wanda and the sloop Fanny, lying between Stapleton and Tompkinsville, Staten Island, saluted her with guns as she passed. The Genesta’s time was the slowest ever made over the course in a race for this cup. Her actual time was 42 hours 14 minutes 55 seconds, and her official time was 42 hours 14 minutes 40 seconds.

 Up to a late hour last night the Dauntless had not passed Sandy Hook. A telegram from one of her passengers, sent to a telegraph station by a passing vessel, was received at 10 o’clock, stating that she was becalmed about 30 miles outside the Hook. In that case she will probably be towed up to Tompkinsville this morning.”