We had just finished taking on gas, oil, ice and water at Gray’s Wharf, Buck’s Harbor, Maine. “What do I owe you, Mr. Gray?” I asked. “Seventy two cents,” was the reply. That’s right, seventy two cents. It was in payment for one gallon and a half of gasoline, three quarters of a pint of oil, and about five pounds of ice. Incidentally, we received the same courtesy that the large motorsailer from Bermuda had received in taking on fuel a few minutes earlier.

“Where there’s a will there’s a way.” Although my savings were small, I was determined to find some way in which my wife, Jean, and I could do limited cruising. Having had some experience with old and leaky boats, I wanted a new boat of the finest materials, and of a type that could be used for one-design racing. This was a large order within a budget of about 500 dollars in the year 1951. After careful consideration, I decided on a kit for a 14ft Rhodes Bantam. This kit was purchased from Skaneateles Boats Inc., and included the very best of materials and hardware. Although I had no previous carpentry experience, the boat turned out well, and I was quite satisfied.

Of course, it is quite possible to cruise in a very small boat, the usual comment is something like — “It’s all right for a couple of fellows who don’t mind roughing it’. However, I didn’t want to rough it. I wanted to cruise in a 14 ft. boat and be comfortable doing it. So that was our goal.

We spent the entire winter planning and buying equipment for Frolic. A Rhodes Bantam has five and one half feet of beam, no deck, and no stern thwart. This made an ideal cruising arrangement, as we had the entire boat for cockpit room by day and, with the boom cover, the entire boat became cabin at night. The boom cover itself was no simple task. We economized by making our own from light cotton duck, and waterproofing it with dressing commonly sold for convertible auto tops. Joan hemmed the edges and through this hem ran a draw string which went around the entire boat just under the gunwales. It was tied at the stern and could be drawn up snugly. The cover was in two parts, overlapping at the mast, and there were tent flaps at the stern, replaceable with mosquito netting. An L head flash light strapped to the boom made a fine cabin lamp.

We used two kapok camp mattresses from Montgomery Ward, which we found as comfortable as air mattresses and more economical. Over these we used Army surplus sleeping bags, purchased after World War II and costing 11 dollars for the pair. For an icebox we used a Pik-Nik. This is a four gallon pail insulated with fiberglas and covered with an insulated lid. We found that by freezing water at home in ice cube trays without separators we had solid junks of ice which lasted longer than the cubes. What a treat it was on hot days to reach into that ice box and pull out an ice cold orange! We also kept plenty of milk, prepared salads, eggs, butter and meat in the Pik-Nik. We used a Primus stove which just suited our needs. The center thwart served conveniently as a table, and we had oilcloth, dishes of plastic, and silverware. Water was kept in gallon jugs (earthenware are best). We bought several Army surplus waterproof bags using one for mattresses, one for the ice box, one for clothing, and one for the sleeping bags. To keep everything dry while under way, we laid half of the boom cover down on the floor boards in the stern. On this were placed the bags containing all the gear. Then the other half of the boom cover was doubled back over the gear and tucked in around the sides making one compact waterproof package. At night, the excess gear was placed forward on the port side leaving a clear passage to the bow on the starboard. On the floor boards between the stern and the center thwart were laid the life jackets, followed by mattresses and sleeping bags. We slept with our heads aft, as it was pleasant to look out at the harbor around us.

We found room for many small things which really made the difference between roughing it and being comfortable. Among them were field glasses, “A Cruising Guide to the New England Coast” (we kept this plus our seven charts in a plastic refrigerator bag); rainshirts (the kind, that come down to the ankles) and sou’westers; a portable radio which gave us entertainment plus weather information; Flit gun (also protected by a refrigerator bag); tools, consisting of drill, screws, screwdriver, pliers, and wrenches; swim fins; reading matter; playing cards; first aid equipment; and last but not least, life-jackets. Yes, we even towed a tender. I bought a pram kit which weighed 70 lbs when completed. A two-horse Neptune outboard clamped to the stern of the pram gave us auxiliary power, as well as transportation in the harbors we visited. When used as auxiliary, we secured the pram alongside Frolic, lashed the motor in position, and steered with the rudder of Frolic. This kept vibration, gas, and oil out of the boat we lived in.

I found that, when beating, the pram towed best from the lee quarter. An arrangement which makes it unnecessary to shift the pram on every tack is as follows: fasten the ends of a bridle to the port and starboard quarter. Use a large snaphook on the end of the dinghy painter and clip this into the bridle. The snap will slide on the bridle, and the dinghy will be on the lee quarter on each tack.

In many ways, cruising in the small boat is fun. There is a great sense of achievement in accomplishing that which you felt was impossible. We caused amazement everywhere we went; first, because we were cruising in such a small boat, and second, because we were comfortable doing it. Ralph Cleale, owner of the 40 foot cruiser Alracon rowed alongside one evening as we were eating supper in Buck’s Harbor. The center thwart was set up with table cloth, dishes and silver. Joan and I, seated on each side of the “table”, were enjoying steaming plates of beans, (it was Saturday night) plus ham and salad. Ralph took all this in and exclaimed, “Why, you folks have all the comforts of home!”

While we were getting breakfast in the Punchbowl, a gunkhole on Eggemoggin Reach, a property owner on shore called out, “Did you sleep on that thing all night?” We allowed we had. “Well I’ll be doggonned!” He asked if we needed provisions, or if there were anything he could do for us; we thanked him, and said we were well equipped. In Centre Harbor, at Brooklin, Maine, the skipper of a schooner brought us ice and invited us aboard for a gabfest. When we informed him that we were on a week’s cruise, he showed no end of amazement and interest. However, the skipper of a Hinckley Sou’wester informed us that we would be just one of the crowd in Europe. “We think you’re mighty cute,” he told us. “We cruised the waters around Finland last summer and saw many people cruising in boats the size of yours.”

I realized that we had achieved our goal of cruising comfort when on the way home from our first cruise (three days), Jean said, “I wish we didn’t have to go home so soon.” To be sure, we never got more than 30 miles from home, but on the Maine Coast, 30 miles covers a good many harbors. As one cruising man put it, “It doesn’t matter much how far you go, as long as you’re out of sight of home; you’re cruising on your own, and that’s what makes it fun.”

I have talked with many people who have reiterated the familiar “I would like to own a boat to cruise in, but I just can’t afford one that would be comfortable.” Being comfortable in a boat is largely a matter of preparation plus mental attitude. I have cruised in larger boats where I was less comfortable than in Frolic. If you aim for comfort and prepare for it, chances are you will have it.