Book 2, Chapter 60

“Are you ready to sail Dumblebit to Neyland Marina?”

“What?”

Despite being perky, having been for my morning run and had a shower, I was unprepared for Da’s question.

“Bill phoned to say the weather forecast is perfect to sail Dumblebit to Neyland Marina leaving this morning. He also said if we leave leave it until tomorrow there will be headwinds and we might not get to Milford Haven in time for the show.

Business and the sea, I was learning, are uneasy partners. “That will leave John and Judy’s dance class desperately short of helpers this evening. How about you and Mum do the class, letting Bill and I double-hand Dumblebit up the coast?”

As this was to be Dumblebit’s first significant passage of over 100 nm the original plan was for Bill, Da and I to sail her over Thursday night to Neyland, which was up a side river close to but out of sight of Milford Haven Marina. There I would tidy Dumblebit on Friday ready to sail around to the show, making an elegant entrance on Saturday. The wind gods clearly thought differently!

While I went upstairs to get my sailing gear Da phoned Bill about my suggestion of double-handing and lo and behold, two adult men agreed my idea was ‘not entirely without merit’. That is their way of expressing it so that, by making a few small changes, they can claim an idea as their own. Rather than waste time going to the supermarket I next raided the larder, fridge and fruit bowl for provisions still only just remembering as we were heading for the door to add tea, coffee, milk and sugar.

Bill was already at Dumblebit by the time we arrived with his idea of provisioning, a bag of Kendal mint cake and muesli bars. I guess when you are 78 a sugar rush can be useful! Luckily Dumblebit’s shore-power line had been plugged in and the refrigerator was already running so I swiftly stowed my somewhat healthier options.

Although it was the end of May the breeze was a bit chilly and looking at Bill, for the first time I was a bit concerned for his health. If everything on Dumblebit worked properly there was little to do once the sails were raised but she was largely untested and despite being fit I was not that experienced a sailor so would make mistakes. I felt embarrassed asking but whispered in Bill's ear so Da couldn’t hear, “Are you sure you are ok with this Bill?”

His returned smile warmed me. “Thank you for asking hen but I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Four hours later I was singing away with not a care. The breeze was light and had warmed despite being from the East. Bill had encouraged me to raise the spinnaker with my little quick release trick incorporated, then settled with his feet up down in the cabin with his choice of music on the sound system - what else could it be but Sloop John B by the Beachboys. All was well with the world.

I expect Bill slept and with the autopilot steering I was definitely daydreaming because I didn’t notice that the wind was rising and Dumblebit speeding up until she started to roll. The next stage could be a crash gibe and the bows under water so I called Bill urgently and he stuck head out of the companionway taking in the situation.

“Make sure the halliard can run free then let the spinnaker go!”

“But it could rip and it cost a fortune…”

“Just do it!!"

I let the spinnaker guy go forward until the quick release shackle let go allowing the sail’s tack to blow forward free. Next I released the spinnaker halliard which whistled up the mast and followed the head of the spinnaker into the sea. Dumblebit was still running forward under mainsail so the spinnaker disappeared under the hull and I held my breath until we’d passed completely over the spinnaker and it was being towed behind Dumblebit by its sheet, which was its sole remaining attachment.

I was shaking like a leaf as I hauled the sail back on board shoving it into its sailbag but Bill just watched smiling.

“Well done lass. When you've finished doing that just put a reef in the main and pole out a bit of jib to windward while I make the tea.”

Did Bill let me get into trouble on purpose? I doubt it but he did seem to enjoy seeing me sort out the mayhem my inattention had brought about. ‘If in doubt reduce sail!’ How many times had I been told that yet still failed to dowse that spinnaker before it had got out of hand. “Never again,” I said to myself… again.

Except for that moment of excitement the rest of the voyage went like a dream. Dinner was a real beef stew from Mum's freezer with added dumplings that I made on board as we sailed west into the sunset and through the night, taking turns to keep watch. The breeze veered to the south and south west but never again reached 20 knots so with the dawn we were perfectly positioned off the Pembrokeshire coast to make a controlled gibe, passing on our starboard side the battlements of Thorn Islandto sailback Eastwards to Milford Haven and Neyland just beyond.

Tight manoeuvring of a yacht under engine can be awkward as the rudder needs water flowing past it to work. Bill had prearranged that we could use the visitors dock but insisted I brought Dumblebit alongside judging the current and windage as best I could. With many boats I would have messed it up but the outboard style motor allowed me to fine tune our position by steering with the engine instead of the rudders until Bill could easily pass the mooring lines to the dock master.

“I can tell you’ve done that a good few times,” the dock master offered as a compliment and I was guilty of nodding as though it were an everyday event. While he was there I asked if I might use their facilities to rinse a sail and he pointed me toward a sink behind the wash-house.

“Do the spinnaker halliard first so we can reeve it,” Bill suggested. “The sail had best dry after washing so will take more time.”

Really all I wanted to do was go for a stroll bathing in the glow that comes at the end of a voyage but Bill was right to push me to get the work out of the way first. As compensation after reeving the halliard, which meant winching me up the mast to feed it through the block, we repaired to a bijou local transport cafe which offered sausages, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms, black pudding, beans and fried bread washed down with tea in pint mugs. What’s the use of being a billionaire if you can’t splash out sometimes?