G
Guest
Guest
Maiden Voyage
We had bought Madgy Figgy, a 22’ Sparta class yacht, a week earlier. By now the cheque would have cleared and we felt that she was ours.
We had intended to just have a rummage around. However, when my sister and her husband , my nine year old daughter and I arrived at the mooring in Brighton marina the good weather and the lure of the oceans tempted us. We slipped our lines and headed for sea.
We motored out of the marina and as soon as we had cleared the entrance hoisted our sails and motored for a few minutes. The outboard engine on Madgy Figgy is mounted on one of those clever aluminium brackets which enables the engine to be raised and lowered by simply disengaging the locking lever and pulling the engine up – in theory. Because the Sparta has a retrousse (is this spelt correctly?) stern, the aluminium bracket is mounted on a block of hardwood to give the outboard the correct angle when lowered. Anyway, I decided that it was time to stop and pull up the engine. In practice the bracket when lowered is too low to reach by leaning over the pushpit so I swing one leg over it and stood on the hardwood block. I reached down, grabbed the bracket and pulled. The engine shot up and promptly jammed my fingers between the securing screws of the engine and the locking lever of the bracket.
There we were, sailing along beautifully at 3 knots and the skipper was half in and half out of the boat. I might add at this point that I was the only person on board who could sail and, judge for yourself, my experience was limited For a few desperate minutes we creamed along - me trying to steer from behind the pushpit, brother in law struggling with both the jib and main sheets and my sister rummaging in the cabin for some lubricant to try and ease my fingers from where they had become jammed. Eventually, she found some detergent and after some painful pulling my fingers were free – if more than a little bruised.
We decided that it might be sensible to return to the marina. Carefully, I lowered the engine connected the fuel line and pulled the cord which after a few pulls decided not to recoil. Fortunately we had a few rudimentary tools on board. We removed the engine cover, unscrewed the recoil mechanism and after some careful fiddling around, which amounted to hitting the mechanism with a wrench it finally rewound.
The engine started and we headed for the marina entrance. As we approached we noticed that there were a few large yachts anchored just outside. We don’t have VHF so we approached one of the yachts and after some shouted conversation eventually concluded that there was not enough depth in the entrance for them. Not wishing to go aground, we decided to motor around for a little while until the depth of water increased. Had we checked the tidetables, however, we would have realised that we had left the marina at low water and the level was now considerably higher. After a few minutes, the engine stopped and despite our best efforts she would not start again. By now we were drifting towards the breakwater so I rushed forward to drop the anchor. Naturally, the ties were seized. Another rummage in the cabin and I found a rusty stanley knife. I cut the ties and dropped the anchor overboard.
In he meanwhile, brother in law had been removing and cleaning the spark plugs. We tried again to start the engine but to no avail. I was starting to think in terms of salvage when I noticed that the fuel line had become disconnected from the nozzle on the fuel tank. We re-connected the fuel line, pulled the cord and, naturally, the recoil jammed again. However, a quick tap with the wrench, a few more pulls and she started. I quickly retrieved the anchor and motored the few hundred yards into the marina before anything else happened.
We had bought Madgy Figgy, a 22’ Sparta class yacht, a week earlier. By now the cheque would have cleared and we felt that she was ours.
We had intended to just have a rummage around. However, when my sister and her husband , my nine year old daughter and I arrived at the mooring in Brighton marina the good weather and the lure of the oceans tempted us. We slipped our lines and headed for sea.
We motored out of the marina and as soon as we had cleared the entrance hoisted our sails and motored for a few minutes. The outboard engine on Madgy Figgy is mounted on one of those clever aluminium brackets which enables the engine to be raised and lowered by simply disengaging the locking lever and pulling the engine up – in theory. Because the Sparta has a retrousse (is this spelt correctly?) stern, the aluminium bracket is mounted on a block of hardwood to give the outboard the correct angle when lowered. Anyway, I decided that it was time to stop and pull up the engine. In practice the bracket when lowered is too low to reach by leaning over the pushpit so I swing one leg over it and stood on the hardwood block. I reached down, grabbed the bracket and pulled. The engine shot up and promptly jammed my fingers between the securing screws of the engine and the locking lever of the bracket.
There we were, sailing along beautifully at 3 knots and the skipper was half in and half out of the boat. I might add at this point that I was the only person on board who could sail and, judge for yourself, my experience was limited For a few desperate minutes we creamed along - me trying to steer from behind the pushpit, brother in law struggling with both the jib and main sheets and my sister rummaging in the cabin for some lubricant to try and ease my fingers from where they had become jammed. Eventually, she found some detergent and after some painful pulling my fingers were free – if more than a little bruised.
We decided that it might be sensible to return to the marina. Carefully, I lowered the engine connected the fuel line and pulled the cord which after a few pulls decided not to recoil. Fortunately we had a few rudimentary tools on board. We removed the engine cover, unscrewed the recoil mechanism and after some careful fiddling around, which amounted to hitting the mechanism with a wrench it finally rewound.
The engine started and we headed for the marina entrance. As we approached we noticed that there were a few large yachts anchored just outside. We don’t have VHF so we approached one of the yachts and after some shouted conversation eventually concluded that there was not enough depth in the entrance for them. Not wishing to go aground, we decided to motor around for a little while until the depth of water increased. Had we checked the tidetables, however, we would have realised that we had left the marina at low water and the level was now considerably higher. After a few minutes, the engine stopped and despite our best efforts she would not start again. By now we were drifting towards the breakwater so I rushed forward to drop the anchor. Naturally, the ties were seized. Another rummage in the cabin and I found a rusty stanley knife. I cut the ties and dropped the anchor overboard.
In he meanwhile, brother in law had been removing and cleaning the spark plugs. We tried again to start the engine but to no avail. I was starting to think in terms of salvage when I noticed that the fuel line had become disconnected from the nozzle on the fuel tank. We re-connected the fuel line, pulled the cord and, naturally, the recoil jammed again. However, a quick tap with the wrench, a few more pulls and she started. I quickly retrieved the anchor and motored the few hundred yards into the marina before anything else happened.
