A few tools will be found necessary. A hatchet, hammer, chisel, file, jack-knife, gimlet, screw driver, small crosscut saw and an assortment of screws and nails will be about all that is essential in this direction. A few yards of duck, palm and needles and sewing twine, a ball of marline, one of spun yarn and a marlinespike may be stowed away snugly, and their possession in case of need is often a great boon. The adventurous voyager must use his own discretion as to his wardrobe. The marine "dude" is in evidence in our midst, and who am I that I should condemn a man for trying to look his prettiest, both ashore and afloat? Don't forget to buy a good suit of oilers, and don't fail to slip them on when it rains. When you come to get to my age, and feel the rheumatism in your old bones, you will wish you had followed my advice.
Tastes differ so widely that it is hard to advise a man as to his _cuisine_ when afloat. What would suit an old sea dog "right down to the ground" might not be palatable to the nautical epicure with a taste for humming-bird's livers on toast, or other such dainty kickshaws. Personally, I can enjoy a good square meal of sardines and hardtack, wash it down with a cup of coffee and wind up with a pipe of plug tobacco, and conclude that I have feasted like a prince. This is probably due to my forecastle training. Others are more fastidious. Luckily this is the age of canned viands, and almost every delicacy under the sun is put up in convenient form, requiring only a can-opener to extract the hidden sweetness.
The culinary difficulty that confronts the sailer of a small craft is the cooking stove. Like the servant girl problem, it is still unsolved. Many great geniuses have wasted the midnight oil and have nearly exhausted the gray matter of their brains in trying to invent a stove that shall be suitable for a little cockleshell of a boat with a _penchant_ for dancing over the waves in lively style. Some have tried cast-iron stoves with a smokestack, and coal for fuel, and have cursed their folly ever after. Gasoline stoves, so long as they don't explode and set fire to the boat, are convenient and cleanly. Various kinds of alcohol lamps, hung on gimbals to accommodate themselves to the perpetual motion of a vessel, are in use and are thoroughly adapted for making a pot of coffee, tea or chocolate, and for heating a can of soup or preserved meat. A hungry boatman should not ask for more luxurious fare. There are preparations of coffee and milk and cocoa and milk in cans, which can be got ready in a hurry and with the least possible trouble. They are also nice, and I do not hesitate to stamp them with the seal of my approval. By looking over the catalogue of the canned goods of any first-class grocer, you will find a quantity of varieties to select from, all of excellent quality and moderate in price. In order to provide against waste it would be advisable if cruising alone to buy the smallest packages in which the viands are put up. Hardtack should be kept in airtight tin boxes to guard against damp. Matches can be stowed in a glass fruit jar, and in this snug receptacle defy salt spray and sea air which threaten the integrity of brimstone and phosphorus. The man who indulges in tobacco (and what lover of the sea does not?) will find it well to pack a supply of wind matches in a glass jar, so that he can keep his match safe replenished and be able to light his pipe or cigar no matter how the breeze may blow. I have found tobacco a mighty source of comfort under adverse mental and physical conditions, and its soothing influence has made many a trick at the tiller seem less weary.