The Black Box Theory

 The Disease Called Cruising
9.  Points in the Black Box

ON EVERY boat there’s a little black box. You can’t see it, but it’s there all the same. It’s full of points that help you get out of trouble. At least, it should be full of points.

Every time you do something seamanlike, a point goes into the black box. Every time you whip a rope-end instead of leaving it to flap itself to fluff in the breeze, you earn a point. Every time you study the chart before entering a strange port; every time you climb the mast to check the topmast fittings; every time you remember to use the bilge blower before you start the motor, the points pile up in the black box.

At sea, the system starts to work two ways. Firstly, you can continue to stuff points into the box (it accepts an infinite number) by taking seamanlike actions — say, by reefing the mainsail after you hear a gale warning on the weather forecast, or by putting on your safety harness every time you come on watch.  Secondly, you can start to draw on your account.

In all small-boat voyaging there is an element of risk that cannot be eliminated. Indeed, it is the lure of danger (and overcoming it) that attracts many to the sport. Inevitably, therefore, there will be times when the ship and her crew are in danger to some degree, despite all the precautions you might take.

This is when the points start expending themselves. You have no control over when and where they’re spent. But they know when they’re needed. When horror is rife, when the mast is crashing down around your ears, those chips come rushing out of the black box to fight on your behalf.

But they have to be available. You must have earned them in the first place.

That’s why some boats and some sailors survive gales and capsizes when others don’t. Some boats will go aground on the only rock for miles around. Others will happily blunder through a maze of reefs.

Some people have a name for it, a four-letter word ending with u-c-k.  But on our boat we don’t believe in l-*-*-* and we never pin our hopes on it. We try, instead, to earn points for our black box. We know that if misfortune catches us with an empty box we’re in trouble. Fate allows no overdrafts.

So there’s really no need to wonder why some people and some boats seem to be treated by Fate more kindly than others. It all depends on how much you’ve got in your black box.

Incidentally, you can never tell exactly how much credit you’ve earned, so you can never relax completely. If you examine your conscience you will have a fair idea of how full your black box is, but to be sure of having enough points you must keep learning the ways of the sea, and the way of a ship in the sea. And you must keep putting your knowledge to practice.

In other words: Look after your ship, and she’ll look after you.

Today’s Thought

Let your loins be girded about, and your lights burning.

— New Testament: Luke xii, 35

Tailpiece

“Why has your dog got such a flat nose?”
“He keeps chasing parked cars.”

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Readers write back

IT’S TIME for some reader input. One reader, Dave Donkers, must have been experiencing a major crisis. He has deliberately expelled himself from the Silent Fan Club.

“Greetings, John,” he says, “OK, I’m breaking the Fan Club rules, but here goes. I first ran into your Black Box Theory in The Practical Mariner's Book of Knowledge, and have shamelessly used it in the USPS Boating course I teach. I believe I have found a corollary to the theory: The Box Is Leaky!!! Those who don't keep putting points in it always appear to run out of luck sooner than even the Average Sailor.”
— Dave Donkers, 30-foot houseboat Nuffernau, Illinois River.

► Well Dave, I’m sorry you had to humiliate yourself in public like this. Most people are pretty careful never to praise me or my theories, not wishing to jeopardize their privileged membership in Vigor’s Silent Fan Club.

But you are right. The Black Box is leaky. In fact I have always advised people to begin earning more points as soon as possible after making a big withdrawal. To quote from the delightful book you mention: “Those with points to spend will survive — but they must start immediately to replenish their savings, for the sea offers no credit.”

Meanwhile, on a completely different subject, loyal reader Oded Kishony wants to know: “How is the 'comfort index' calculated for a catamaran? Does it apply in the same way? I've read that cats have a more jerky motion in the water.”

► Oded, I don’t believe naval architect Ted Brewer had catamarans in mind when he invented the comfort ratio. He was thinking only of comparisons between monohulls. Cats are animals of a different stripe, although I must say in my limited experience with them I’ve never noticed a great increase in jerkiness. Their hulls are finer, less buoyant at the bow, so they don’t react as violently to oncoming waves as a mono would. Furthermore, their great beam tends to stabilize them to a certain extent from individual waves approaching at right angles. But I suspect that there are different courses for different cats, depending on their displacement and hull shape. So, actually, what I’m trying to say, without really admitting it, is: I don’t know.

Incidentally, Ted says in his excellent book, Understanding Boat Design, that he “dreamed up” the comfort ratio, tongue-in-cheek, for a magazine article some years ago. He says that “corkiness” is determined by two main factors: the beam of the hull and the area of the waterline.

Ted’s formula, for enquiring minds, is: Displacement divided by [65 x (0.7LWL + 0.3LOA) x B1.333]

Today’s Thought
O my good lord, that comfort comes too late;
’Tis like a pardon after execution;
That gentle physic, given in time, had cur’d me;
But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
— Shakespeare, Henry VIII

Boaters’ Rules of Thumb, #218
How much open water is needed for waves to reach their maximum height? The old rule is that a fetch (a stretch of deep water unaffected by land masses) of about 600 miles is required. The wind must blow in the same direction for a certain minimum time for the sea to become fully developed, and the rule here is that the time, in hours, equals the wind speed in knots. That is to say, a 20-knot wind will take about 20 hours to form its biggest waves, and so on.

Tailpiece
Number Three said to Number Two: “Hey gorgeous, let’s get together and multiply.”
“Forget it,” said Number Two, “you’re just a six maniac.”

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)