As Predicted

Uniform of the day was the blue, brass-buttoned blazer and snappy nautical cap of the well-heeled yachtsman; the easy banter was the well-oiled chatter of pleasure-boat skippers out for a good time. But back of the byplay, the briefing session in the Travers Island boathouse of the New York Athletic Club one evening last week was as studied and serious as a premission meeting of wartime PT-boat skippers.

Close Calculation. Each of the 25 skippers in the 42nd annual predicted-log powerboat race up the length of Long Island Sound (see chart) had spent long hours computing his course; he had counted down to the last second just how long it would take him to pass each control point along the way. He had, if his calculations were correct, accounted for the effect of wind and tide; he had gone over his figures for the umpteenth time. Then he had filed his predictions with the race authorities.

This was a sport for navigator types--more akin to chess than racing--and in the next day's race, speed alone would count for nothing. Only the official observer on each boat would carry a watch; only he would be able to record just how close his skipper was keeping to his estimates. If all went well, if navigational skill was equal to predicted-log equations, every boat would churn past the finish line at Block Island at exactly 7 p.m. The time-measured margin of error (including the error at each control point) would determine the winner.

Telltale Ripples. In all the fleet that edged past Execution Rocks Light and set out for Block Island, no skipper had lavished more care on his predicted log than two-time Race Winner Dr. Allen B. Du Mont, 54, in his 54-ft. Trumpy-built cruiser Hurricane III. An engineer by profession (and president of the $63 million Allen B. Du Mont Laboratories, Inc., which manufactures television sets and a variety of other electronic instruments), he had figured his time with professional precision. A seasoned sailor, he had laid out his course with professional skill.

Porpoises played off the port beam of Hurricane III on the first leg. Under the muggy mist there was no breeze, and beyond Execution Rocks the boat passed no buoys where Skipper Du Mont could check for the telltale ripples that would help him estimate the tide. Still, he had a feeling he was moving too fast; he reduced engine speed as he pulled up to the first marker. Then the breeze freshened.

Sailboats drifted through an almost windless race off the Connecticut shore. Hurricane III was passing lobster pots now and narrow, leaning oyster-bed stakes, so the skipper could get a reading on the current. It was not up to pre-race calculations. Off Point No. Point, southeast of Bridgeport, he reduced r.p.m. again. Behind him, half a dozen skippers thought twice as they held to course and speed.

Best of Ten. Off Plum Island, Skipper Du Mont got the kind of break no sailor can guess in advance: he came upon a boat in distress. The ketch Rolling Stone, out of Red Bank, N.J., was rolling in the easy swell, her ensign flying upside down from the mizzenmast. She had lost her rudder shaft. Under the rules, no matter how much time Dr. Du Mont lost going to her aid, he would get a perfect score for leg 6. Within minutes, the Coast Guard had been called by radio, and Hurricane III was back on course.

As the bleak rise of Block Island loomed out of the mist, the fleet pulled together. Almost on the dot of 7 p.m., the boats, remarkably close, began to cross the finish line. The Hurricane III, with the best score of her ten races to Block Island, had a 1.08% error. It was a tribute to the skillful navigation of the powerboat fleet that Skipper Du Mont's fine performance only earned second place. The winner: the Irene K. IV, a brand-new 46-ft. Chris-Craft delivered only four days before to Elias A. Kalil of Manhasset, N.Y.

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