Reading Elizabeth’s October/November newsletter, I saw her note to the effect that Bob and I had met at the Foxall Boat Jumble, and I had mentioned to him that the forestay on ‘Black Orchid’ (ex Bob Searle’s grp S11 ‘Jose Two’) had broken en route to Bradwell. This brought back memory flashes of one of my less auspicious afternoons.
It had started out perfectly normally. There was no wind. The Blackwater was like a sheet of glass. About half a mile upstream, someone at the Blackwater S.C. kept firing a gun, but the fleet of dinghies didn’t move relative to each other. I rowed out to my mooring and went on board. There didn’t seem much point in hoisting the sails, so I started the Seagull, let go the mooring and puttered off down river. After about ten minutes the engine died. Check fuel – tank full. Fuel turned on? Yes. Vent screwed open? No. Ah, Bad Show, first mistake.
Restarted the engine and resumed puttering. I should point out to non-Seagull owner that the term ‘puttering’, when describing the sound of an outboard, is relative. A Seagull’s putter is considered by some modernists to be a bellow of heroic proportions, compared to which the crack of doom is as a gentle murmur. I digress.
By now we were in the middle of the river and one could detect a slight breeze. So up went the sails, off went the engine, and we drifted down river in silence. Passed Osea Island, Stansgate Abbey (“afternoon Wedgie”) and Thirslet Spit. We arrived abeam Bradwell, and carried on towards the Nass Beacon as it was still early and the wind was picking up, making sailing, as opposed to drifting, a real possibility.
It was while tacking that there was a ‘crack’ from aloft and the reefing line went slack. At first I couldn’t see what had happened. Apart from the reefing spar seeming to sa a bit, there didn’t seem to be much wrong. Then I realised that the halyard, attached to the peak of the genoa, was taking the whole weight of the mast and the mainsail. So I lowered the main, gently reefed the genoa and removed the main from the boom to reduce weight. By this time we had passed Bradwell and were approaching the Nass. I started the Seagull and headed for Bradwell.
About half a mile from Bradwell the puttering from the Seagull rose in a crescendo to an earsplitting level. I closed the throttle and could see that we were not moving, so off went the engine. I knew what the problem was. The spring that acts as part of the drive train and a shock absorber had obviously broken. To replace it required bringing the engine back on board. Having removed and replaced the spring (I carry a couple of spares) and put the engine back in the water, we resumed our journey to Bradwell.
Passed the tide guage beacon, keep the red cans on the port and hug the withies to starboard, swing to port towards the green buoy and ON TO THE PUTTY. No amount of tiller waggling, boat hook prodding or engine revving made any difference. We were on, and since I was not going to imitate Dave Milner and go over the side we were going to stay on, until the tide turned. As it was about half an hour to low water, I reckoned we would be afloat again in an hour or so.
Time to make a cup of tea, tidy the boat and reflect. The fuel tank vent valve and the going aground were down to me. The broken drive spring and the forestay were not, so the score was two all.
In due course Black Orchid floated, we went into Bradwell, had a great curry at the Green man and slept the sleep of the righteous. Next morning up early, back up to Millbeach, moored alongside the jetty, lowered the mast, disconnected the furling gear and took it all ashore. The cause of the forestay breaking now became apparent.
I had bought the furling gear, Plastimo 406, from a chandlers in Havant. They had assembled the spar around the new forestay, cutting the outer alloy extrusion and inner plastic double channel to length where necessary. Plastimo had recommended a 5mm forestay, but the chandlers said that 4mm would be adequate for a boat of the Silhouette’s size. Big mistake!! At the top of the spar the forestay had slipped out of its channel and had jammed in the genoa bolt rope channel; so when the spar turned, so did the forestay, and over a period of time it weakened and eventually broke. Perhaps I should have realised that the gear was not operating as smoothly as it should, but in my defence I would say that this was my first experience of the system so I didn’t know what to expect.
As the old saying goes: “I learned about flying, (or sailing or wimmin) from that.”
Mike Dacey, November 03.