The Track of the Typhoon
by By William Washburn Nutting 8 Apr 22:43 PDT
The thrilling true story of a small yacht's daring voyage across the Atlantic.
On a cold, blustery, late November day in 1920, a little black 45-foot yacht slowly beat her way through the Narrows against an ebbing tide and a raw nor’wester and tied up at St. George, Staten Island. To the casual observer there was nothing unusual about the event, except possibly the lateness of the season, but to the practiced eye there were signs that spelled something more than a post-season run to the fishing banks. Her storm trysail, her tattered ensign, her decks and rail scoured white, the lifelines strung between her shrouds—all were marks that told of a battle with strong winds and heavy seas. She was the Typhoon, thirty-two days from the Azores, and in her short career since her launching in July, she had completed a cruise of seven thousand–odd miles that had taken her across the North Atlantic and back again.
This is the story of the Typhoon, from the time of her conception by William Nutting, editor of Motor Boat magazine, and his friend, the legendary naval architect William Atkin, to the finish of her cruise a year later—a journey to prove that it was possible to cross a large ocean in what at the time was considered a very small vessel. First published in 1921, The Track of the Typhoon is a classic tale of sailing across the Atlantic for the fun of the thing: for the sport of picking one’s way across great stretches of water by sextant and pitting one’s wits against the raw, honest forces of nature. It is a story that further cements what Slocum, Voss, Blackburn, and Day knew – that the size of a boat has little to do with its seaworthiness. Most of all, Typhoon will inspire a confidence in the possibilities of the small yacht and instill in readers a desire to explore the sea in their own small craft.
About the Authors:
William Washburn Nutting (1884–1924) was an American sailor and author. He co-founded the Cruising Club of America in 1922 and was editor of Motor Boat magazine. He was lost at sea in the Atlantic in 1924.
Tim Murphy is editor-at-large of Cruising World and author of Adventurous Use of the Sea, which tells the full story of William Washburn Nutting and sixteen other influential cruisers and yacht designers from the past century. Murphy develops marine-trades curricula for the American Boat and Yacht Council.
Advance Praise:
Rod Scher, author of Ship of Lost Souls - "With a dry wit and deadpan understatement, William Nutting’s classic tale, The Track of the Typhoon, takes the reader on an unforgettable transatlantic voyage in a 45-foot gaff ketch designed by Nutting and his friends. The skipper and his crew brave storms, knockdowns, and food supplies that dwindle dangerously—though the stock of cognac never seems to run low. For Nutting, a man who famously prioritized madcap maritime fun over safety, it was all just a splendid jaunt across the ocean—one that many of us would love to have made—in spite of multiple near-death experiences."
Excerpt - Chapter 13
The Gales in the Gulf Stream
It was on Saturday, November 13th, the twenty-fifth day from Ponta Del¬gada, that things really began to happen. With this day came the first of a series of gales which culminated in that of November 17 during which Typhoon came triumphantly through as severe a drubbing as a small boat ever experienced without disaster. During the night we had plunged along under jib and mizzen to a W. S.W. blow, holding about a N.W. course and making fairly good weather of it. But the barograph curve had been drop¬ping for two days and consequently we were not surprised when, at seven in the morning during the skipper’s watch, a terrific rain storm hit us so suddenly that there was scarcely time to lower the mizzen before we were in the midst of it. In a remarkably short space of time the wind hauled around from W. S.W. to N. and for two hours and a half we reached along under jib alone, heading a little north of W.
By 9:30 the wind had got around to the N.E. and was blowing a full gale with the seas already grown to enormous size though confused due to the sudden shift of wind. Raising the mizzen we took a W. N.W. course and Typhoon behaved beautifully with the wind and seas slightly abaft the beam. With the wind abeam or slightly forward, she is likely to slap the seas with the flat of her bow, but with it anywhere aft of this point, her performance in rough water is superb.
After a rest below during which Fox was on the wheel, I took her again from one o’clock until four. The character of the sea and the rain had made a noon sight impossible but by the middle of the afternoon the atmosphere had cleared and dead ahead I picked up the masts of a vessel still hull down below the horizon. Feeling that the ship was coming our way, we awaited the meeting with the excitement that such a break in the monotony of a long passage always causes. Slowly the sticks came up—much too slowly for a vessel under way—and as they grew they seemed to be absolutely without canvas. Then as the hull finally came above the sea we saw that the ship, a fine three-masted schooner, was practically hove-to under half a mainsail and two headsails. She was almost directly in our path and as we bore down on her at nearly six knots we could see that she was making bad weather of it, wallowing and pitching a third of her length out of water with every sea. She was not hove-to in the sense that her headsails were aback but was headed in the same direction we were going and making not more than a knot or two. Bending our course to pass within fifty yards to windward of her, Charles took the wheel and, assisted by Jim and Fox who held me to the main crutch, we photographed her twice shielding the camera with our bodies from the seas that were coming over. Three figures in yellow oilskins on the quarterdeck of the schooner stood at the rail and seemed too stupefied at the apparition to return our salute as we waved them good-luck and continued on our way.
This first gale marked the culmination of the long barometric drop and as the glass had started to rise rapidly by nightfall, we decided to carry on for the night under jib and mizzen instead of resorting to the trisail, for we were doing nicely and could not afford to cut down our speed.
By Sunday morning, November 14, the wind had moderated although the weather was still cloudy and so cool that we felt that we must be draw¬ing out of the Gulf Stream. By nine o’clock we were able to raise the single reefed mainsail and were doing a good seven knots when the wind hauled from N. N.E. to E., back again to N. N.E. and then settled down to a light easterly, giving us about four knots on a W. N.W. course. It was a great relief to be rid of the rain, the breaking seas and the tiring motion, and we took advantage of the opportunity to rebuild the fire in the Shipmate and prepare a good meal from our rapidly diminishing food supply. A noon sight through a rift in the clouds gave us an altitude of 36° 20' which placed us in latitude 35° 11' 22".
On Monday morning the wind, which was still moderate, hauled to E. × S. and we changed our course to N.W. × N as the Gulf Stream had not set us to the north as much as we had expected. Although cold enough to be out of it entirely, our calculation put us not much beyond the middle of the Stream. A noon sight through the clouds gave us a latitude of 36° 05' 42" and another snapshot of the sun for longitude in the afternoon worked up to 68° 33', rather a disappointing showing as it indicated that we had done but about 300 miles during the last three days of strong winds.
Realizing that our progress was too slow we endeavored to increase our speed with the spinnaker which we set at 4:00 P. M., lowering the mizzen, which is worthless under the circumstances. But it was really blowing too hard for the light sail and at 10:00 in the evening the tack of the spinnaker carried away and it was taken in and we ran throughout the night under full mainsail on a N.W. × N. course with rising E. S.E. wind.