drewstwos
Well-Known Member
Hi All
Just a refresher. After being rescued and back in Poole the main halyard was retrieved and next day we were on our way again.
The saga continues.
Remember dear reader, that this tale took place in the late 1950s and such things as radio were a luxury that only the big boats had. To digress for just a moment, when I first went to sea in 1948 our radio operator used morse code.
Back to the sage.
I had plotted, on the chart of course, coastwise from Poole via headland to headland all the way to Lands End. From there it was an easy run up to Anglesey and then to Liverpool. I had done this trip several times already without much trouble, apart from the tale recently told. So.......
We motored out from Poole and turned south. The wind was from the SSW.with a touch of south in it. Out at sea, the wind being a tad foul, so hoisted the outer jib and sheeted it hard in to steady her and motored on to Anvil Point. Turned into the wind, cut the engine to idle and hoisted the main and inner jib. Back on course she really got going. blue sky, blue sea, just a few whitecaps and a steady swell. All nice and regular, almost hypnotic. The course to Start Point took us well out to sea, and as we sailed on with the lee rail under at times, I slowly became aware that the wind was freshening, the sea was building, but she was going like a train on rails. Too early for a reef, so I took in the outer jib which eased her enough.
The lee rail was now under on every wave. Great fun. Start Point appeared on the starboard bow and we swept past. A slight course change and off again out to sea towards The Lizard.
I now saw dark clouds building, off to the south, and under them a line squall patched with rain. and it was heading our way. No time to reef, just get the main off her. Down it came, all 1300 squre feet of it. Just some very temporary lashing to hold it in place. Then the squall struck,
Hard a port and into the teeth of it. Hold her so. Got the engine started fast and into gear even faster. Spray was coming along the deck in sheets horizontally. The wave tops were blowing off and the jib was thundering until I eased her off a trifle to fill it.
Then it passed. Relative peace but more was on the way. Behind it the wind had now backed to the south and was increasing by the minute.
What to do? Now I was on a lee shore with not a great distance to go before we would be on rows of jagged hungry rocks. Could I run for Falmouth? Possible, but every mile towards those rocks was a mile I dared not lose. No Radio, nothing. And now the rain was blotting out the horizon in all directions. By the time I could see the land we would be almost on it. What if I had misjudged the DR position . In that sea we could be too far out to be able to gain the entrance into Falmouth. That would leave us with nowhere to go.
Decision time. Sea room is safety. Get off the land and as far out as you can and ride it out. Now Frolic was one of the best sea boats. She would look after us longer than we could look after her.
I decided to batten everything down, and after that got the now rather worried and not too well crew down below out of the weather. It was now down to me to look after both ship and crew as best I could.
With the wind, now a full gale and the seas building higher and higher it became obvious that I had to steer SW untilI was sure I was past Lands End before I could turn and run before it in safety.
OK, here we go. Late afternoon and growing dark. The clouds were low and menacing, the rain was mingled with salt spray. I had no idea how long this gale would last, so I just wedged myself at the wheel and waited. The wind was now playing scales on the rigging; deep organ notes rising to a tremulous trebble as we topped a wave, then dropping fast in the hollows. The running backstay was close to my head and each rising note sounded like a call from the depths. A call from Davy Jones just suggesting that I give up and abandon both ship and crew to the depths.
The seas closer to the land had been confused as the wind chnged, but now further out they became more regular, more like serried ranks. Each trough became a brief windless interval until on reaching the next peak a blast of wind and water hissed up the deck and I had to duck as best I could to avoid being even more soaked.
Time passed. Darkness really fell now, and it was night. The masthead light was drawing huge circles in the rain, and the nav lights were reflected green and red on the foam as it raced past. I think I was too alert now to feel weary, Adrenalin had kicked in. I was hyper alert to every movement of the boat. Every twist and shake as we cersted a wave I could feel through the spokes of the wheel. The binnacle compass was showing a steady SW. I knew that the engine could give us about 7 knots in still water, so I thought that we might be creeping at about 3 knots over the ground.
It had been about half tide when all this started so I figured that every twelve hours would cancel any effect, but what of leeway. Being a deep keel yacht I knew that this would be minimal as we were lying about 30 degrees off the wind. A point she was most comfortable at, and any drift would be in the right direction at least.
As I got to follow her every move, it gave me time to think. I had calculated that we had to run about 30 miles to Lands End, so for now while the gale blew I would have to wait for 10 hours. Could I hang on that long? Would the gale blow itself out before that? I just did not know.
The night dragged on. Not another light to be seen. Not another ship in sight. We could have been sailing to the ends of the earth.
Being young and so full of energy and stamina it was not difficult to stay alert. but even then I knew I was tiring. The constant movement in all direcions was slwoly draining my concentration.
At about 5 in the morning I noticed that there was a faint glimmer of light on the eastern horizon. Was it day? Did I feel a slight easing in the wind?
Jus hang on another half hour or so. Yes, dawn was coming in. What's the time? How long have I been doing this. Are we past Lands End. Think, you idiot. Double check. Triple check.
Yes, I am sure.
Light was now stronger, and I could see the waves more and more each passing minute. The clouds were breaking up. The wind might be easing a bit, but not much, and still in the South too. That was good; the thought of it veering even 45 degrees in that strength would soon kick up a cross sea that might be too much to cope with.
So, time to bite the bullet. A fast turn onto North between waves and the blessed relief. But now another problem raised its ugly head. Extreme care now. In the trough the crests looked to be somewhere near the cross trees and they were 30 odd feet from the deck. No, not possible surely. Well to this day I do not really know for sure.
Full day now, and even a hint of sunlight too. I was soaked, cold, and tired out. but I still had a job to do until I could hope to get the best of the crew to take over, if that was possible. How had they fared? I just did not know.
The immediate problem was keeping her exactly stright as each wave humped itself under the counter, lifted the stern skywards, raced underneath and then dropped us into the next hollow. Had she broached in that sea she could have tripped on her keel and rolled in a second.
I thought about trying to run a mooring line over the stern in a loop to act as a sea anchor which would have helped keep her stern to the waves but I just couldn't do it. There I was stuck in place.
On the top of a wave I could now see for miles. Rank upon rank of waves in an endless stream. But at least I could see the bigger ones coming now. They looked like rows of terraced housed with an occasional church thrown in, and even the odd cathedral at times. The clouds, now white, were breaking up, the sea, a grey frothing mass now had shades of blue in it. The breaking crests a dazzling white, with flashing rainbows that lasted seconds and then vanished.
Well ,it had all happened so fast, and the result was that it all went away just as fast. Within an hour the wind had dropped to about F5 again, and the waves were flattening out more and more. There on the hrizon fine on the starboard bow were the jagged rocks of Land End, breaking waves crashing, and the lighthouse standing tall and white in the sun.
I slowly opened the deckhouse door and croaked...
"Anyone alive down there?"
A pause and then. "I think so"
"Well one of you get up here quick style. I have had enough"
And I really had.
Just a refresher. After being rescued and back in Poole the main halyard was retrieved and next day we were on our way again.
The saga continues.
Remember dear reader, that this tale took place in the late 1950s and such things as radio were a luxury that only the big boats had. To digress for just a moment, when I first went to sea in 1948 our radio operator used morse code.
Back to the sage.
I had plotted, on the chart of course, coastwise from Poole via headland to headland all the way to Lands End. From there it was an easy run up to Anglesey and then to Liverpool. I had done this trip several times already without much trouble, apart from the tale recently told. So.......
We motored out from Poole and turned south. The wind was from the SSW.with a touch of south in it. Out at sea, the wind being a tad foul, so hoisted the outer jib and sheeted it hard in to steady her and motored on to Anvil Point. Turned into the wind, cut the engine to idle and hoisted the main and inner jib. Back on course she really got going. blue sky, blue sea, just a few whitecaps and a steady swell. All nice and regular, almost hypnotic. The course to Start Point took us well out to sea, and as we sailed on with the lee rail under at times, I slowly became aware that the wind was freshening, the sea was building, but she was going like a train on rails. Too early for a reef, so I took in the outer jib which eased her enough.
The lee rail was now under on every wave. Great fun. Start Point appeared on the starboard bow and we swept past. A slight course change and off again out to sea towards The Lizard.
I now saw dark clouds building, off to the south, and under them a line squall patched with rain. and it was heading our way. No time to reef, just get the main off her. Down it came, all 1300 squre feet of it. Just some very temporary lashing to hold it in place. Then the squall struck,
Hard a port and into the teeth of it. Hold her so. Got the engine started fast and into gear even faster. Spray was coming along the deck in sheets horizontally. The wave tops were blowing off and the jib was thundering until I eased her off a trifle to fill it.
Then it passed. Relative peace but more was on the way. Behind it the wind had now backed to the south and was increasing by the minute.
What to do? Now I was on a lee shore with not a great distance to go before we would be on rows of jagged hungry rocks. Could I run for Falmouth? Possible, but every mile towards those rocks was a mile I dared not lose. No Radio, nothing. And now the rain was blotting out the horizon in all directions. By the time I could see the land we would be almost on it. What if I had misjudged the DR position . In that sea we could be too far out to be able to gain the entrance into Falmouth. That would leave us with nowhere to go.
Decision time. Sea room is safety. Get off the land and as far out as you can and ride it out. Now Frolic was one of the best sea boats. She would look after us longer than we could look after her.
I decided to batten everything down, and after that got the now rather worried and not too well crew down below out of the weather. It was now down to me to look after both ship and crew as best I could.
With the wind, now a full gale and the seas building higher and higher it became obvious that I had to steer SW untilI was sure I was past Lands End before I could turn and run before it in safety.
OK, here we go. Late afternoon and growing dark. The clouds were low and menacing, the rain was mingled with salt spray. I had no idea how long this gale would last, so I just wedged myself at the wheel and waited. The wind was now playing scales on the rigging; deep organ notes rising to a tremulous trebble as we topped a wave, then dropping fast in the hollows. The running backstay was close to my head and each rising note sounded like a call from the depths. A call from Davy Jones just suggesting that I give up and abandon both ship and crew to the depths.
The seas closer to the land had been confused as the wind chnged, but now further out they became more regular, more like serried ranks. Each trough became a brief windless interval until on reaching the next peak a blast of wind and water hissed up the deck and I had to duck as best I could to avoid being even more soaked.
Time passed. Darkness really fell now, and it was night. The masthead light was drawing huge circles in the rain, and the nav lights were reflected green and red on the foam as it raced past. I think I was too alert now to feel weary, Adrenalin had kicked in. I was hyper alert to every movement of the boat. Every twist and shake as we cersted a wave I could feel through the spokes of the wheel. The binnacle compass was showing a steady SW. I knew that the engine could give us about 7 knots in still water, so I thought that we might be creeping at about 3 knots over the ground.
It had been about half tide when all this started so I figured that every twelve hours would cancel any effect, but what of leeway. Being a deep keel yacht I knew that this would be minimal as we were lying about 30 degrees off the wind. A point she was most comfortable at, and any drift would be in the right direction at least.
As I got to follow her every move, it gave me time to think. I had calculated that we had to run about 30 miles to Lands End, so for now while the gale blew I would have to wait for 10 hours. Could I hang on that long? Would the gale blow itself out before that? I just did not know.
The night dragged on. Not another light to be seen. Not another ship in sight. We could have been sailing to the ends of the earth.
Being young and so full of energy and stamina it was not difficult to stay alert. but even then I knew I was tiring. The constant movement in all direcions was slwoly draining my concentration.
At about 5 in the morning I noticed that there was a faint glimmer of light on the eastern horizon. Was it day? Did I feel a slight easing in the wind?
Jus hang on another half hour or so. Yes, dawn was coming in. What's the time? How long have I been doing this. Are we past Lands End. Think, you idiot. Double check. Triple check.
Yes, I am sure.
Light was now stronger, and I could see the waves more and more each passing minute. The clouds were breaking up. The wind might be easing a bit, but not much, and still in the South too. That was good; the thought of it veering even 45 degrees in that strength would soon kick up a cross sea that might be too much to cope with.
So, time to bite the bullet. A fast turn onto North between waves and the blessed relief. But now another problem raised its ugly head. Extreme care now. In the trough the crests looked to be somewhere near the cross trees and they were 30 odd feet from the deck. No, not possible surely. Well to this day I do not really know for sure.
Full day now, and even a hint of sunlight too. I was soaked, cold, and tired out. but I still had a job to do until I could hope to get the best of the crew to take over, if that was possible. How had they fared? I just did not know.
The immediate problem was keeping her exactly stright as each wave humped itself under the counter, lifted the stern skywards, raced underneath and then dropped us into the next hollow. Had she broached in that sea she could have tripped on her keel and rolled in a second.
I thought about trying to run a mooring line over the stern in a loop to act as a sea anchor which would have helped keep her stern to the waves but I just couldn't do it. There I was stuck in place.
On the top of a wave I could now see for miles. Rank upon rank of waves in an endless stream. But at least I could see the bigger ones coming now. They looked like rows of terraced housed with an occasional church thrown in, and even the odd cathedral at times. The clouds, now white, were breaking up, the sea, a grey frothing mass now had shades of blue in it. The breaking crests a dazzling white, with flashing rainbows that lasted seconds and then vanished.
Well ,it had all happened so fast, and the result was that it all went away just as fast. Within an hour the wind had dropped to about F5 again, and the waves were flattening out more and more. There on the hrizon fine on the starboard bow were the jagged rocks of Land End, breaking waves crashing, and the lighthouse standing tall and white in the sun.
I slowly opened the deckhouse door and croaked...
"Anyone alive down there?"
A pause and then. "I think so"
"Well one of you get up here quick style. I have had enough"
And I really had.
