Chapter 15

Reveille

Why am I surrounded by sadists? My uncle Jack's novelty Reveille playing alarm clock had seemed amusing when he gave it as a present last Christmas but I must find an alternatve!

Luckily it was a beautiful morning as at 6:00 am I entered the marina and locking my bicycle headed down to Bill's Vertue , Molly. In my bag was a large thermos of tea, two still-frozen pasties, sandwiches and fruit - when I'd talked to Bill on the phone early yesterday evening to accept his offer of a sail, food was mentioned and I didn't want to be stingey.

Bill had slept aboard and was still enjoying a large mug of something resembling tar as he lay out the chart and described his plan. The forecast was sun with a gentle to moderate breeze and the tide ebbing. Further up the estuary where it became a tidal river, cameras would be running later today hoping to catch surfers on the famous Severn Bore but here the problem was working with the well over 40 foot tides and resulting strong currents that caused the bore. We were leaving now as any later and there would be too little depth to get out of the marina but that gave us enough hours to sail twice cross the estuary before the next falling tide would prevent us getting back in.

Bill started the engine before I cast off the lines and jumped back aboard. I knew from sailing with others that yachts don't steer well going astern so could appreciate Bill's deft maneuvering as we left the slip and motored to the lock which enabled us to drop from the level of the marina to the level of the estuary.

As soon as we were in clear water Bill put me on the tiller to steer toward a buoy he pointed out then pulled out the chart to show me how our steered course, shown by the compass in front of me, corresponded to the course, as shown on the chart, from our position just off the marina to a channel buoy symbol. "It's amazing how often people hold true to a course that a few moments thought would show to be in entirely the wrong direction."

With that he moved forward in a way that showed great familiarity with the boat to raise the mainsail. Watching him from where I steered I wondered was Bill referring to sailing or talking in aphorisms?

With the mainsail up and trimmed to the wind direction he allowed the foresail to unfurl from its roller and as he tightened the sheet Molly heeled to the task with a will seemingly delighted to be free of her shore chains.

With the buoy approaching Bill took the tiller and pointing to the plotter (a rectangle of transparent but marked plastic, with a turning transparent compass disc attached ), and asked me to measure the heading to the next buoy shown on the course he had marked out for the day. I lay the centreline marked on the rectangle along our desired route on the chart and span the disc until its north aligned with the north of the grid on the chart, reading off to Bill the angle between the two."Almost" said Bill bringing Molly to a course close to the one I'd read off. "Trim the sails and I'll show you what you missed."

Sail trimming I knew about from dinghy sailing and I enjoyed adjusting them to get the best speed. While I was doing that Bill adjusted a windvane connected through a series of pulleys and cables to the tiller until he could release the tiller and Molly steered herself. "Molly is female" he said, "and steers herself better than any man can."

That done he showed me on the chart and plotter that there was a difference between the north shown on the chart and north as read off a magnetic compass. "Here in Cardiff in the year 2000 the compass reads about 2° higher than the true bearing but in different places and times there can be quite a variation so always check where you are before setting your compass course."

By this time I was absolutely sure Bill knew exactly what he was doing with his 'pearls of wisdom' but I refused to be phased by it. Last night I had been pleased with the results from the epilator (although it did hurt a bit doing my armpits) so I had raided Litara's cupboard to enjoy the benefit.

The sailing was wonderful and, by playing the tidal currents, at mid-day we were anchored off Clevedon enjoying our lunch, including the pasties I heated in the ship's stove, and watching the antics of the holiday makers brought into Clevedon Pier by M/V Balmoral.

"It's getting hot. You don't mind if I strip off, do you Bill?"

It wasn't a question as I immediately took off my light waterproof trousers to reveal beneath a pair of skin tight cutoff denim shorts. Turning my back and bending, so my shorts clad backside was no greater distance from Bill's nose than the couple of feet the small cockpit allowed, I then slipped my sweat shirt up over my head and turned round toward him revealing… Well a B-cup isn't that big but the hot orange bikini top I had borrowed did its magnificent best to maximise my assets and it clashed wonderfully with Bill's deeply blushing face.

"I suppose I deserved that lass." Bill admitted. I realised who you must be as soon as you told me Isaac was your father but I clearly hadn't appreciated that Isaac's youngest was such a canny as well as beautiful daughter. Then his face broke into the broadest grin imaginable and I started laughing.

All the way home to Cardiff we teased each other but it was only after we had made arrangements to sail together again and I had unlocked my bike that turning back for a last wave, I realised who this strange old Scottish man brought to mind…

Grandad Joe