I left for Australia in the Oriana at the end of October, and many of the passengers were anxious, and used to say to me, “Have you heard from him?” “How is he?” “Aren’t you worried?” My reply was always, “No, I’m not worried about his safety,” because I wasn’t. I was just quietly confident that he would do it.
There were about three times during the whole circumnavigation when I was worried about the success of the voyage. Once was in Oriana. We were trying to make radio contact with Francis, and we heard him saying, “I’m going to Fremantle, I’m going to Fremantle.” I had heard by a dispatch from London from The Guardian that his self-steering gear had broken.
When I had this message, the chief radio officer said to me, “Oh dear, I hope he won’t go to Fremantle, it will spoil everything!” I said, “Well, we won’t say anything about this, and tomorrow the situation may have changed.” As we ourselves were close to Fremantle, it did pose a problem for me because naturally I wondered, “Shall I get off there?” But I decided that it was no good worrying. I went to bed and slept soundly (as is my custom), and next morning I received a message pushed under my door, saying, “It’s all right, he’s going on to Sydney.” The next night (November 19) we talked to each other, 1,000 miles apart.
The only other times I was worried were by the frightful hunting for him as he got near Sydney, and later, near to Plymouth. I have known other yachtsmen to be damaged by enthusiastic press people in boats, and I thought how dreadful it would be if so near his goal anything should happen to him.
While we were in Sydney, getting him ready for the second leg of the journey, there was immense pressure from sponsors, press, friends, and so on, trying to persuade him not to go on. I paid not the slightest attention to this; it would have seemed unthinkable to me for Francis not to have gone on, and it never occurred to me that he might give up. While we were in Sydney I had hundreds of letters from all sorts of people, who told me that they had prayed for Francis, and watched his passage with the deepest interest. No one ever approached me and said, “Don’t let him go!” This I found interesting; people may have thought that my opinion didn’t count, or they just didn’t dare suggest such a thing to me because I was so confident.
The radio communication with Gipsy Moth IV was something really marvellous, and the men who worked it were wonderful people. They always gave me immense confidence. These radio men, I think, also understood the mysterious link of prayer mixed up with this communication.
When Francis left Sydney, he says that he wondered if he would ever see me again. Personally, I was quite confident that all would be well, although I was sorry to see that wretched hurricane advancing on him. When he radioed Sydney that he had capsized, he asked them not to tell me until the morning, as he did not require assistance. My hostess, Bar Eaton, called me at seven o’clock, and I remember feeling worried at her being disturbed so early. Then I was given the message. I surprised myself how calmly I took it down. I’m afraid the first thing I thought was—Oh dear, all that wonderful stowage and that beautiful key plan, what a muddle it must be in now! Hugh Eaton said to me, “Do you think you should tell Sir Alan MacNichol [he is the commander-in-chief of the Australian Navy], and they could, perhaps, send out a helicopter?” I thought quietly, and said, “No, I don’t think Francis would like that.” He would not want to be worried, and with that wind I realised that he could quickly run back to Sydney if he wanted to, though I didn’t think he would. I did, however, ring up the head man of the Sydney radio, asked him to repeat the message to me, and I said to him, “How did he sound?” “Oh,” he said, “he sounded his usual cheerful self and he was quite adamant that he did not want assistance. I’m sure he’ll be all right.” The radio men had faith in him, as I had.
That night Francis came through to me on the telephone and asked me to take the story of the capsize, which I did. We talked for nearly an hour; he was in good heart, and I did my best to cheer him.
I left Sydney a week after Francis did, and stayed in Hong Kong. While I was there the P and O liner Himalaya came in, and I called on the Captain, because she had been struck on the same night as Francis by a giant wave in the Tasman Sea. The Himalaya had picked up Francis’s radio message, and the Captain called his radio officer, who played me a tape of Francis’s voice. They had taped the message because they heard the word “capsize”, and they thought they might have been wanted. However, when they heard the words “no assistance”, they decided, after a conference, to go on their way. I was fascinated to hear Francis’s voice so loud and clear talking to Sydney radio, asking for weather reports, etc.
In Hong Kong I was asked the same old questions. “Why wasn’t I worried?” “What was my secret?” I always found it difficult to reply, but I was determined not to let people get depressed or worried over Francis, because this is a negative force, and I believe in positive thinking.
When I arrived in London by air from Hong Kong, I found some of the press waiting to meet me, and they asked when did I think that Francis would pass the Horn? I predicted roughly about March 20 and again it turned out in the end that I was right. This was not hit and miss—it was the result of careful thought and checking, and also of feeling very closely in touch with Francis. I can truly say that I sailed with him in spirit throughout the voyage.
When I got home a remarkable man called Brother Mandus got in touch with me, and came to see me. He has an enormous global prayer group for sick people and others in a World Healing Crusade, and with his people he had been praying daily for Francis. We both agreed that prayer is a thing which multiplies and multiplies in the most extraordinary fashion. I gave him a recording to help his sick people all over the world.
It may sound inhuman, but I never really had a sleepless night. I think this is because I am such a believer in the great spiritual forces. I should like to quote here from a letter which Claude Muncaster, the artist, sent to me. After speaking of the significance of the venture for this nation, and for young people, he added: “Besides this, there is an even greater significance. This is a significant illustration of the power of thought coming from thousands and thousands of people, not just well wishing. That happens anyway. This is another, greater, power—the power of prayer, if you like, although people don’t know about it as such, has gone out as a sort of protection. He has been surrounded by a protective envelope of power.”
This puts my feeling into words far better than I can express them.
My faith was also backed by knowing what ocean sailing is like. Of course, I had never been in the Roaring Forties, but I had twice crossed the Atlantic with Francis. I knew his abilities, knew that we had prepared as well as we possibly could, and there was no point in worrying. I felt all the time almost as if something outside myself was controlling me. I was very intrigued by one particularly happy incident. Francis completed his circumnavigation of the world on April 11—my birthday. To me, this was more than a coincidence.
The first two were by Conor O’Brien (3 years) and Marcel Bardiaux (7 years).
Back to Text
APPENDIX I
LOG BOOKS
The next six pages are reproductions from log books. The first page is from my log of October 14, 1966 and shows what a labour it is to take sun sights by the long old method. Only two sights are worked out on this page. Opposite is a page from my log of May 21, 1967 showing six sun sights produced by the short method. The next two pages cover ten hours of my log for Saturday, May 20. I filled six log books like this on the voyage besides radio log books. For comparison, the last two pages are from the log of the Cutty Sark on its record-breaking round trip in 1885. The whole log is contained in about forty pages like this. I had them with me on my voyage in facsimile form, kindly provided by the Cutty Sark Society by whose permission these two pages are reproduced here.
APPENDIX II
STORES AND STOWAGE
A NOTE ON STORES BY SHEILA CHICHESTER
DOING the stores has always been my job, a
nd I find it an exacting one. In the summer of 1965 we all three lived on board Gipsy Moth III, and for a month Francis recorded everything that we ate. From this he was able to work out the quantities of stores for one person for 120 days, and it was on this that I based my planning.
Having worked out the quantities I needed, I then had a conference with the manager of the London Health Food Store because a lot of the things Francis took were vegetarian, and this is the best place to get them. We also ordered some free range eggs. I then had another comprehensive list for a big store, and asked them to pack everything in small amounts for easy stowing, and to number every package.
These things were all delivered to 9 St James’s Place, and we put aside a room and packed solidly. At this point I handed over to the office staff. The only things that went wrong in this operation were the eggs, which unfortunately went bad, so that Francis had to throw away fourteen dozen. On the advice of a friend he wanted them coated with beeswax. Previously, we had always treated eggs with Oteg, but, of course, eggs did not have to last so long on a Transatlantic voyage of thirty days or so. The weather was hot when the time came for egg painting, and nobody seemed very keen to do them. However, they were done, but obviously not properly. Also I think the eggs came too soon—it would have been better if we could have put them on at Plymouth, but it is easy to be wise after the event.
We obtained a lot of Tupperware boxes, into which products were stored, numbered and listed. We had two lists, one alphabetical, and one of the Tuppers, showing what each contained, and also a key plan, for finding them after they had been stowed on the yacht.
It was a terribly hot time at Tower Pier, and unhappily the eggs were put too close to the engine. As we were going down the Thames I suddenly discovered this, and so I think they were stale, not properly coated, and possibly half-cooked before he ever left! This was a bad business, because those eggs represented protein, and as Francis doesn’t have meat I was greatly worried when I heard they had all gone bad. I much regretted that I had not coated them myself, but I had so many other things to do.
During the summer before Francis sailed he practised baking his own bread, and had a small oven fitted on top of the Primus in the galley. This wholemeal bread was a great mainstay for him. He also took mustard and cress seeds to plant on flannel for vitamin C.
At his own request, Francis did not take much tinned fish on the passage to Australia, and I think he did not have enough. I saw that he had 100 tins on the return passage. He took quantities of natural foods, such as honey, raisins, nuts and Barmene which is a valuable source of vitamin B and yeast, and was a very good product to take. He also took a good supply of garlic.
Because of his very strenuous passage and his lack of time for cooking, substantial quantities of the food loaded in England was still uneaten when he arrived in Sydney. Everything was taken out and examined. The new stores taken on in Australia were all obtained by the firm of David Jones. I prepared my list, giving the exact quantities required, and I then had a meeting with the directors of the firm. After that I had no further worry. The things were marvellously packed, and were all delivered at the Royal Sydney Yacht Squadron, where the secretary kindly gave us a whole storeroom to ourselves, quite near the yacht. I have never been able to do stores so comfortably.
Even so it was a big chore, and I spent many hot days packing and checking, Giles helped me, but he had to go back to England before the work was done. However a very nice young man called Robert Anderson, and his mother, came in, and they were splendid.
On Sunday, a week before Francis left, we were packing in the yacht at a temperature of 100 °, which was really trying. I went back to my hotel to have a rest, and I think it was because of exhaustion that I fell in my bedroom and tore three ligaments in my ankle. I had to keep my foot up for three days, and was heavily strapped and hobbled about for the rest of the time in Australia.
I think Francis’s food was better on the return journey partly because of the fresh fruit which was beautifully packed for him, and also because he had plenty of potatoes. On the outward passage he did not have enough potatoes. The trouble then was that the shops in England had only new potatoes and it was feared that these would not keep. Undoubtedly he suffered from lack both of potatoes and eggs, though fortunately he had some dried eggs.
These lists of food and spare stores and stowage plans are not as
complete as I would have liked, owing the inevitable shortage of
time.
STORES OUTWARD 1966
ALPHABETICAL LIST AND STOWAGE
Acid bulb tester
Along the Clipper Way
Australian flag
Avon Redcrest 8 ft rubber
dinghy
Avon Redshanks 12 ft rubber
dinghy, including sailing kit,
mast, dagger board, rudder
and sail
Avon repair kit (leaks)
Middle settee-end port
Aft settee port locker
Forward port settee
Afterpeak
Dinghy well
Main cabin port bunk
Barometer, Met
Blocks—large quick release
snap shackle (2)
large ordinary (1)
medium ordinary (1)
(with shackle)
small (3) (2 twisted) shackles
Bolt cutters
Bolts, tin of spare
Boots
Bosun’s chair
Bosun’s chair tackle
Bow fender
Brace and bit
Broom
Buckets (3)
Bulbs, e.l.
Middle port settee
Starboard forward drop
Starboard forward drop
Starboard forward drop
Starboard forward drop
Middle port drop locker
Middle port drop locker
Locker under heads basin
Forepeak
Forepeak
Afterpeak
Middle port drop locker
Afterpeak
Afterpeak
Middle settee-end port
Burgees (RYS 2)
Burgee (RGG)
Brookes and Gatehouse spares
Candles
CO2 canisters (2)
Cleats (flying) 6
Collision mat
Cordage including
1 red light nylon line
2 long light nylon lines
String bag
Deck inspection lights and
cable (2)
Dinghy oars
Dinghy air pump
Distilled water
Distilled water (1-gallon)
Documents, plans and
instructions
Downhaul tackle
Drogues (3)
Drogue warp 1,000 ft (green)
EL bulbs
Engine oil (Shell Rotella)
Port settee-end middle
Dinghy well
Bottom forward chart locker
Forepeak
Afterpeak
Starboard forward drop locker
Starboard aft drop locker
Top settee-end port
Starboard forward drop
Forecabin port sailcot
Forecabin port sailcot
Forward port settee
Forward port settee
Port main shelf
Middle port settee locker
Forward starboard settee locker
After lower heads locker
Middle settee-end port
Aft starboard drop locker
Forward port drop locker
Forecabin port sailcot
Aft port drop locker
Fender (bow)
First Aid Manual (RCC)
Flying cleat tackle
Flying cleats
Afterpeak
Port aft settee locker
Starboard forward drop
Port
forward drop
Generating plant (petrol)
Grapnel (small)
Grease (silicone)
Grease pump
table
Grease stern gland
Forward locker under chart
Cockpit locker
Forepeak
Port middle drop
Aft locker under chart table
Hacksaw
Port middle drop
Hammer
Port middle drop
Hengist and Horsa masthead
gear
(Brooks and Gatehouse spares)
Starboard forward settee
Hooks and coat hooks
Port aft settee
Port main cabin shelf
Instructions, documents and
plans Port settee-end top
Jib bonnet
Kettle (spare)
Forepeak
Afterpeak
Lanyards and cords (thin)
Log, rotating (spare)
Log books
Log leads and rotator
Starboard middle drop
Starboard middle drop
Port middle settee
Port settee-end middle
Mallet, wooden
Magazines
Marconi spare parts
Marconi transmission
connection leads (various)
including spare cable
Meths—1-gal tin
1-gal tin
Empty 1-gal plastic container
Mustard and cress seeds
Port middle drop
Port forward settee
Afterpeak
Port forward drop
Starboard middle drop
Starboard forward drop
Starboard forward settee
Gipsy Moth Circles the World Page 28
