Alone Across the Atlantic

by Francis Chichester

  few minutes owing to the yacht bouncing about in the tide-rip.

  When I returned under motor (assuming the yacht without

  sail would have much the same movement as the dinghy, thus

  enabling me to get hold of it) I could not find the dinghy. I

  cruised to and fro around the place for three hours without

  finding it.

  After abandoning the search I tried to call up Lloyds Signal

  Station at the Needles with my Aldis lamp, but could get no

  reply. I think another yacht coming out of the Solent after me

  may have taken the dinghy while I was lowering the sail, in

  which case the signal station, if keeping watch, might have

  noticed this or might have recorded the names of any yachts

  passing out at the time, 1455 hours, 24th April, ¼ mile west

  of Bridge Buoy. You may be able to obtain information from

  Lloyds about this.

  I suggest inserting the following ad in Yachts and Yachting

  if you agree: £5 reward for recovery of dinghy lost at Needles

  1455 April 24. Thought to have been picked up by a yacht

  while owner lowering sail. Light blue fibreglass, white inside

  with red seat cushions. Painted Gipsy Moth III inside transom.

  Sculling notch in transom. Small chip at one edge of stern

  underwater. Made by Souter.

  Yours sincerely,

  Francis Chichester.

  (Note to Mrs. Chichester) (?)

  If you have time please phone Mr Boler about this. The

  dinghy may be returned, it would be difficult to conceal it

  permanently if advertised as above, but meanwhile I urgently

  need a replacement.

  25th April later. My letter about the dinghy loss turned out to be nonsense. When I got on to Lloyds signal station at the Needles, the man on duty told me the dinghy had been spotted near St. Catherine’s 252 ° /9½ miles at 0952 this morning. I feel the biggest clot of the south coast. If only I had kept on sailing round the dinghy in the Needles race for an hour or an hour and a half either the dinghy would have been carried out of the race into calm water where I could have handled it or else the tide would have turned and the race died down for a while.

  Later the same man phoned through and left a message to ring him when he told me the dinghy had been sighted again at 1600 hours 6½ miles from the Fairway (new pillar) buoy 207° from it. I plan to get out there tomorrow and hunt for it again. It appears to be travelling NW. – SE. with the tides and I think it is worth having a shot at it – rather sport anyway. Tide turns outwards at the Needles at 1144 tomorrow. A lot depends on the wind, e.g. how fast I can get out there and where the dinghy drifts to during the night.

  Long discussions with the boatyard about my wind vane. My view slightly acid as they promised it by April 1st and my trans-Atlantic passage must be a flop as far as speed is concerned if the vane is a failure. I shall need plenty of practice to learn how to use it in different conditions anyhow.

  27th April. The Dinghy Hunt. I wonder when I last did as much in 24 hours.

  Before beginning I slept badly. I admit I was excited at the prospect of the dinghy hunt. It seemed a highly sporting episode. I expected to be out all night and I have to admit I have not before this spent a night at sea alone in a boat. And I do consider it is a much more dicey do at the mouth of the Solent than say in the Atlantic as I think my log would show.

  I left the mooring late after reluctantly getting out of my bunk and phoning the Needles signal station to hear if they had any more news of the dinghy. That involved rowing down to the jetty and back; then there was breakfast with the usual household chores followed by getting the yacht ready to sail. And that in itself is something with a 13-tonner.

  I motored down the four-mile stretch of river to save time in the light breeze because I wanted to reach the Needles as the tide turned at 11 o’clock. A fat chance when I didn’t start till 1038. It was delightful sailing down the Solent when there was a breeze with the sun shining but I had to spoil the lovely peace by motoring every time the breeze died away. I did not want to waste any of the good visibility available for dinghy spotting. I reached the Needles at 1315, called up Lloyds station with my new toy the Aldis lamp and they flashed me ‘no news’. I had trouble reading it. It is surprising how difficult it is taking in morse while tending the helm and sailing hard on the wind compared with when having nothing else to do but concentrate on the signalling.

  The wind switched from north suddenly to SW. at the Needles. First I sailed south for half an hour, then west for an hour, south half an hour, east an hour, and so on, carrying out a rectangular search moving slowly southwards.

  What a place England is for weather change! The clear visibility in the sunlight changed to hazy fog. Then at 1440 I lowered the big genoa threatened by a dark squall which, however, passed to the north. Then it became bitingly cold and I put on long woollen winter under-fugs, two jerseys, my kapok floatation coat and an oilskin coat on top of that. At 1700 I set the No. 2 jib and ran before the wind east for an hour without touching the tiller. I was delighted at this, the first time she had sailed herself. In my enthusiasm I put potatoes and onions to boil and opened a can of salmon for dinner but I never had it.

  First the wind shifted from SW. to SSE. so naturally the yacht sailing by the wind wandered off towards the north. I unrigged the boom preventer and hardened up main and jib to get on to 080 °. Then the wind freshened up so I left my dining preparations to hand the jib. Hardly settled below, the wind piped up so I decided I must reef. With several Guinnesses aboard this was a slippery job and I made a mental note that I must rig up a life-line and harness. I had carried on towards the land with night coming on and it was too bad a light to spot the dinghy. A dirty rain-squall disturbed my pre-prandial peace of mind. Then at 2100 I realised we had closed quite enough with the land. I worked up a plot of the track so far sailed. I could not carry on while I ate without risk of being carried by the current into the St Catherine’s race. I turned NW. but she refused to sail herself and every time I went below I had to dart back to the cockpit to set her on course again. I tipped my dinner into a jug and gave up wishing to have any.

  I now wanted to settle the boat on some course so that I could sleep. I lowered the main, but she began drifting in the tide towards St Cath’s. Another dirty rain-squall. I tried hoisting the main partly and running NW. but it was a messy job with the sail fouling the shrouds and battens getting hooked up behind them. I didn’t want a full main or I should be charging into the mainland after a few hours. Or else get much too far south if I went out into the clear of the Channel. And I did not want to waste valuable daylight returning to my search area. She flatly refused to sail north-west however hard I tried. Finally I furled the main altogether and waited to see what she would do. Round she went to SSW. and stayed there jilling along at half a knot. This was bang into the main shipping lane but I left on all the nav lights and turned in. When I woke at five o’clock Anvil Point was blinking not far off about 7 miles NW. One cabin oil lamp had burned out. I got her sailing north and after half an hour turned east to get to the most likely area for the dinghy. It was lovely sailing under the big genoa and full main. I fried up my potatoes and onions intended for dinner and had a hearty breakfast with two eggs and two rashers added. After sailing 8 miles east I turned north. I had to be back at midday because the yard was due to start fitting my wind vane. Not a sign of the dinghy which I had been scanning for pretty constantly while the light was good enough. Every ten minutes I scanned all round with the binoculars. At 8.35 the Needles light house showed up dead ahead. It was wonderful sailing hard on the wind. Sun and sparkling seas bowling along at 6-6½ knots. But very cold. I even dug out a thick pair of woollen ski gloves. At 1008 we were abeam of the Needles, not having altered course since 7.30. I had to tack all the way to the Beaulieu River bar but
it was grand sailing. She certainly goes with such a breeze. At 1217 we were at the East Lepe buoy and at 1340 I moored on the boatyard dolphins and they began fitting the wind vane.

  I needed no sleeping-pill that night. No dinghy but it was good fun and just what I needed to show what little jobs I still had to do, such as boom preventer permanently rigged, smaller block on the main halliard purchase which carried away one of the jumper struts in the dark, shock cord preventers for the runners, life-lines, shock cord for topping lift and various improvements to the stowage.

  Let the nightingales sing in Beaulieu River; I love’em.

  7th May. Yesterday was one of the thrilling ones in my life. Cousins, the chief rigger finished off various stays and bracing wires of the wind vane. He changed some of the slide lashings and the spanker set much flatter. Jim Crook, the engineer, cast 25 lb. of lead into three circular pieces which fitted onto an arm in front of the wind vane. These are to counterpoise the span on the other side of the vane mast. David Parkes, who now owns the Agamemnon boatyard, came on board to sail with me. His yard had done all the work on the vane during the past two months and he wanted to see the result. He is very good company so I was delighted. We cast off.

  The first excitement was when the end of one of the vane arms caught up in the tiller-line from the end of the other arm. This was while I was turning round in the river at low water using full rudder to get round in the narrow channel. The tiller-line fouling locked the rudder hard over. This was one of those moments with a moored boat now right ahead in our circular path. I called out to David to free the wire quickly and he jumped onto the counter, grasped the set-up and acted immediately. Good, that was a near one.

  We set off motoring and sailing down the river, the wind being very light inland. It was obvious that the wind vane was attracting a lot of attention down the river. I’m afraid it is pretty ugly, which is a pity, but it has to be its shape to clear the backstay when it rotates.

  As soon as we were across the bar I set the vane and locked it to the tiller. ‘George’we called it, but it wasn’t the right name. One or two readjustments and the yacht steered itself across the Solent. ‘You’re in business,’ said David. It was a thrill; it obviously worked at least partially. We tacked up wind to and fro across the Solent. Each time I tried little changes of trim of the vane. Once or twice Freddy (George that was) took the boat across better than most helmsmen could with a straight wake not varying more than a degree or two for the 2 miles across. What fascinated me was that the topsail of the vane, about one-third of its area, was backwinded by the wind off the mainsail while the spanker, the rest of the vane sail, was bellying out the other way. It seemed to me that as a result of this the vane acted at once to any change of wind or change of heading of the boat. What’s more the sails were quiet, asleep as the term is, whereas I had expected violent flapping all the time. It really was uncanny how Miranda (obviously female so Freddy wouldn’t do) conned the boat across the sea. If set right she was more skilful than a good ocean-racing helmsman. As David said, I was in business. After all these weeks wondering if it would ever be finished and then getting faint-hearted at the thought that it might well not work anyway – and where would I be then? Certainly a very tired man by the time I reached New York. Well, here it was working better than I had hoped for. There are not many thrills to beat this one. Not only did it mean so much to the trans-Atlantic race but it was the success of a device devised wholly in a man’s brain. I had imagined many, many different circumstances that it must deal with. How easy to miss out something vital, some factor that controlled everything, dominated everything. But it had come off, here it was working even better than I had hoped for.

  When we had tacked up to Yarmouth (David had a two-hour zizz after the three-course lunch I cooked for him) I turned downwind and began experimenting with Miranda to see if she could control the boat while running. With the help of a jib sheeted in hard and the vane set out to leeward we ambled up the Solent with the course wandering over an arc of almost 40 °. It was better than not being able to do it.

  I was so exhilarated when we returned that I accepted an invitation to supper with the Garretts on their yacht Sandera and stayed talking and drinking whisky till 1.30 in the morning.

  Today I had some alterations made at the boatyard to the clamping device of Miranda and then set forth again into the Solent with Pat and Shirley Garrett. Shirley made up a wonderful lunch with several bottles of rosé. It was terrific with salad and fried scampi.

  We nearly ran down one or two boats although we had right of way in each case. Obviously some yachtsmen, perhaps not up in rule of the road, expect the other boat to give way, even if it has right of way. If that boat has no one at the helm, the result may surprise them. With Miranda doing so well, we would settle down in the cabin to lunch and time after time were astonished to find the land too close. We were charging it. It is surprising to find the Solent much too small for sailing under Miranda’s control.

  When we had got up to windward for two hours, I boomed out the genny with No. 2 jib set on the other forestay and ran before the wind with more than 1,000 feet of sail set. The wind was very light and we seemed to be running as fast as the wind. One could hardly expect Miranda to work in such conditions; there was no wind to move her. I shall have to rig up twin foresails boomed out and connected to the tiller, as all the trade wind trans-Atlantic crossers have done.

  However, I was pleased to find the genoa boomed out well. Robert Clark had said it wouldn’t and Geoff Pattinson said the boom would roll into the water. Perhaps it will, but it looked high above it today.

  It was a marvellous day for England, so fine and warm. I came back with face burning and eyes aching from the glare. I can hardly keep awake.

  3. May 9th to June 10th

  ‘Racing’against Other Yachts – Depression – The Solution –

  Improvements to Miranda – Happy Again – Thoughts about

  Fate – The Pleasures of Solitude – A Late Entry? – News of

  Humphrey Barton and the Trimaran from America – Chris

  Brasher’s Impressions of David Lewis and Blondie Hasler –

  Sailing with Chris – Beaulieu River to Plymouth – Fog off

  Portland Bill – Miranda’s Triumph – Last Minute Preparations

  and Farewells

  9th May. I went off at ten o’clock yesterday and after an amusing half-hour tacking down the river, weaving among the moored boats – and it is fun because you have to gauge right each tack allowing for the slow swing round of the boat combined with the tide effect carrying it down the river – I put on the motor to get into the Solent for some more experiments with Miranda.

  First of all I tried running with a boomed-out genoa but it was hopeless, Miranda needs some wind passing it to make it move whereas the yacht will run nearly as fast as the wind, with the result that there is no wind slipping past the vane, and it has no effect on the tiller. I tried lowering the main to run with genoa only, remembering Robert Clark’s words to me that with headsails only his yachts naturally found their way downwind. Mine doesn’t; she kept on coming up right round into wind. I felt pretty browned off. Any failure gives one a feeling of hopelessness. I lowered the genoa too and let the boat drift with the tide towards Hurst Castle while I ate a few bananas and oddments.

  I thought I would get home and try out Miranda on the wind again during the process. On one tack she worked perfectly and I overhauled two big fully crewed boats also tacking to windward. Then I had to bear away, forcing Miranda round by brute force applied to the tiller, to avoid a big yacht on the starboard tack. I got a glimpse of a lot of crew in whites, her sail number was 22.1 I tacked and went after her.

  Chasing these boats, using them as trial horses, as Cutty Mason used to say, is excellent for finding out how one is getting on. In the next two tacks I lost ground badly. I could not get Miranda to do her fine helmsmanship which she had shown me she could do. On one tack we seemed to catc
h up but ‘22’ began to grow small ahead. Then it dawned on me that Miranda was slipping and not only figuratively. The band which clamped the vane arms to the vane mast was slipping.

  No wonder I was having so much trouble to set her. A spring temporarily inserted to make the two halves of the brake band fly apart when the clamping screw was unscrewed, was preventing the brake band from clamping tightly on the mast.

  Feeling depressed was stupid because I had really done what I set out to do. First, I learned that Miranda will not work for running. I must rig up twin spinnakers controlling the rudder for that. Secondly, if the yacht controlled by Miranda could hold big, fast boats just once, as I think she did, then it is only a matter of refining her and getting to know how to handle her to do it often. Thirdly, it was good to have found weaknesses in the vane as temporarily rigged.

  I felt also that David Parkes and Pullin of the Agamemnon Boatyard were right about the strength required in the vane gear. Stronger cross trees are needed, a stronger arm carrying the lead counterpoise and stays from all these arms to the top of the mast, etc., etc.

  In the end we had a big pow-pow of Pullin, Haywards, Harry Cousins, and Jim Crook, the engineer, who came up in two launches this afternoon and discussed the whole vane matter. In the end

  122 is the sail number of Firebird X, a 12-metre owned by J. E. Green.

  they decided to add two jumper struts with diamond shrouds to stay the vane mast at the windward side, to triangulate the counterpoise arm to the two cross-tree arms and to the mast and to stay the tube on which the mast rotates with two rigid struts, one to each side of the deck forward of the vane mast.

  I feel very happy again to-night. I think it will be all right. I have not enjoyed myself so much since I was preparing to fly out alone to Australia in 1929. And of course a yacht has immense advantages over an aeroplane. Here I am in the cabin waiting for my plaice fried with breadcrumbs in butter, vegetables in the thermos after being cooked first, reasonably full of good Guinness, with lovely May-leaved trees outside. It’s true I wish I could have my wife here, but the truth is I do very little work when she is here, it is so amusing to talk to her. And the amount of work to be done to get ready for this jaunt is amazing.