Through The Storm (5 page)

“To turn the
boat,” Jerry was saying, “Either pull or push the tiller.” His hand
came out to guide Ross as he spoke. “Always, in a strong wind, be
gentle. Now, look where you are going and steer for that can over
there, by the blue yacht. You’ll need to pull the tiller towards
you a bit, first”.

As Ross turned,
the sail that had been flapping at its front edge, bulged with a
snap and the boat flew. Ross gasped. The skiing had been slow. This
was fast. The water was rushing by only centimetres from where he
sat on the side of the boat, with Jerry squashed up in front of
him.

“Things you
need to know. If the boat tips, like this”, Jerry moved his foot
and Ross gasped as the boat fell away and lifted him high in the
air, “Let the sail out a BIT and it will come flat again”, and,
like magic, it did.

“You must
always sit opposite the sail, so when we turn around, you will have
to swap sides. I’ll tell you how. To go faster, the sail should be
let out (eased) as far as it will go without flapping even just the
tiniest bit. OK. We’ll turn around now and on the way back we’ll
practise easing and pulling in the sail. Follow my instructions and
don’t rush”.

Ross nodded,
his jaw clenched. The tack (or turn) was easy with Jerry talking
him through it. Flying back to the others, the boat wriggled as
badly as Maureen’s had, and only some of it was on purpose as Ross
practised pulling the sail in without using his feet or his teeth,
which Jerry said was cheating, and anyway tasted horrible.

“Don’t worry,
“Jerry said. “We’re all going to practise that, and tacking on the
shore in a minute. I just wanted you all to have a feel of real
sailing before we concentrate on perfection”.

The beach was
coming up faster than a train. Ross wondered where the brakes were.
Reading his mind, Jerry chuckled. “Remember. A boat pointing into
the wind, with the sail eased stops. Just push the tiller away when
I say, and let the rope go”.

Ross almost
fell out as the boat obeyed his signals, slowed and stopped. With
trembling legs and a grin as wide as Maureen’s and Susan’s, Ross
paddled ashore. Jack never wriggled at all, but took long graceful
swoops instead. Patrick wiggled lots, but you could see he was
doing it on purpose as he moved the sail in perfect time, with
never a flap and a great deal of speed. When he came back, Dean
scrambled aboard, and Patrick set up one of the other boats and
sailed off on his own, while Jack and Ross watched enviously.
Maureen and Susan were watching Dean. He was not a natural born
sailor. He was wiggling as much as Patrick had but without the
synchronised sail movements, and the boat tipped angrily at his
rough treatment, almost as if it was trying to throw Dean off.
Susan gasped and Maureen’s hand went to her mouth as Dean almost
slid off the side, but Jerry was still grinning as he corrected
things.

“Have another
try, but remember, GENTLY”, Jerry’s voice drifted over the water to
the watchers on the shore. Dean gradually got better and eventually
returned after nearly managing a complete circle on the way
back.

“As good as my
archery”, muttered Jack cheerfully and felt slightly better about
his morning’s efforts – no one can be good at everything. Jerry let
Patrick sail on while the novices learned about how a sail makes a
boat go and something called the “No Go Zone” which boats can’t
sail into.

“Do they sink
in it, then?” Dean asked.

“No they stop
or go backwards,” Jerry replied. ”Imagine a box with the wind
blowing across the diagonal corners. To stay out of the no go zone,
you have to sail along the sides of the box. If you try to sail
into the box, straight towards the wind, you will be in the no go
zone and the sail will flap and the boat will slow down and stop.
If you don’t turn to steer along the side of the box, you start
going backwards.” He looked around the group to make sure they
understood. “OK, I’m going to pair you up now for company and I
want you to sail to the yellow buoy over there”, he pointed,” tack
around and sail back to the beach, swap places so you each get a
turn at steering and have another go. Jack with Dean, Maureen with
Ross, Susan with Patrick. If things don’t go to plan, let go of
everything and sit tight, and I’ll come and give you a hand”.

ROSS’S REMINDER DRAWING (note “ a capsize” is when the
boat tips over completely onto its side)

CHAPTER 6

For the
beginners, things were not so easy without Jerry aboard, telling
them what to do. Maureen’s eyes were enormous and her knuckles
white as the wind puffed and the boat began to tip. She had no
control as Ross held the tiller and rope. She sat as far away from
the water as she could and hung on tight. The water was lapping
over the deck and still Ross clung determinedly to rope and tiller,
although he, too, was now staring wide eyed at the advancing water.
At last, as the water no longer lapped, but flooded aboard, it was
too much for Maureen.

“Let go”,
Maureen screamed. Snapping out of his trance, Ross did exactly what
he was told and let go of the rope and the tiller completely. The
boat stopped tipping and fell almost on top of them, whilst
spinning around, and the sail snatched and flapped ominously above
their heads. Maureen dived for the middle of the boat.

“Not that
much,” Maureen said disgustedly, wondering what she was doing out
in a boat with this dopey boy. Trying to regain his pride, Ross
grabbed at the tiller and pulled. Not much happened.

“We’ve
stopped”, he shouted over the noise of flapping canvas. Maureen’s
look said it all as she pointed to the rope. Ross sheepishly
snatched the end and pulled until the sail tugged back and they
were off. Ross was getting the hang of it again now. The yellow
buoy was whizzing towards them as he went through the tacking
routine in his mind, and then, here they were. “Swap hands”, he
muttered, doing so. “Push tiller”, again he followed out his own
instructions, and the boat obediently swung into the wind, the sail
swung towards their heads as the wind puffed at the other side of
the boat and sail, and they ducked. Maureen was already scrambling
across to the other side of the boat. ”Change sides”. Somehow the
end of the rope had looped itself around Ross’s foot and the tiller
was trying to climb into his buoyancy aid. Wriggling across, he
felt Maureen untangling the rope and concentrated on getting the
tiller free as the sail snapped into its graceful curve and the
boat leapt forward. Without need of Maureen’s reminder, he eased
the rope, (Sheet, he remembered to call it), and then they powered
back towards the shore like Olympic sailors. Maureen had had the
chance to learn from Ross’s mistakes and sailed Olympic Gold all
the way to the yellow buoy and back, only forgetting how to stop as
they rode a ripple to the beach at full speed ahead. Luckily,
Patrick and Susan had already landed and Patrick saved them from
sailing right up the beach, pulling the bow round to face into the
wind. Jack and Dean were close behind, and Jerry came in behind
them. The wind seemed to be dying away. The sails which had been
competing for percussionist of the year, and dancing madly to their
own beat were now almost still, with only the odd slap from side to
side as if worn out by their previous struggle.

“Well done
everybody”, Jerry said. “We’ll have a bit of a breather now. Let’s
watch the canoes while we have a drink and a nosh, and then we’ll
go on an exploration to that island out there while the wind’s
still light.”

He was digging
into a giant sized kit bag and producing bread rolls filled with
cheese, fizzy drinks, crisps, biscuits and chocolate muffins. The
sailors found a comfortable place to sit, backs against the
changing room wall, and watched the canoeists, paddles dancing in a
mixture of glistening water and sparkling sunlight. They were too
far away to pick out faces, but Jack nodded at one and said, “I bet
that’s Arthur in the red one. You could set a pendulum to that
rhythm”.

“Yeah, and that
wriggly one, second from the back’ll be David”, Ross agreed.
“Still, he’ll be good at the slalom when they get to it,” he
joked.

It didn’t take
long to demolish the supplies. As the last drips of drink were
thirstily lapped up, Jerry explained the plan of campaign.

“I’ll lead the
way in the motor boat, and I want you to act follow my leader
behind me, Dean right behind me, then Jack following Dean, then
Susan, then Maureen, then Ross, and Patrick on the back to act as
sweeper, and maybe give a little advice if anyone falls behind, and
you can see what they are not doing right.. The tides going out,
but only for another hour, so there’s not much push behind it, and
as you worked out, the wind’s north easterly so we’ll be sailing
with the wind almost behind us on the way out and you can practise
your tacking on the way back. Remember, especially on the way out.
Ease your sails until they flap and then pull them in until they
just stop. On the way out the sails will be VERY eased”.

He drew a
picture in the sand, showing what he meant. “If the boat tips away
from you, you haven’t eased enough. Got it?”

He was met by
eager nods all round. A real desert island to visit on their first
sailing lesson. They couldn’t wait to get started. Even Patrick was
looking forward to his role as back up instructor. Jerry and
Patrick quickly rigged the so far unused boats which had been
sitting forlornly on the beach and they were off. With the wind
having a rest after its earlier angry huffing, they had time to get
used to being on their own. The boat seemed a whole lot bigger and
it was strange not having the other person offering advice, whether
useful or not. Ross, despite concentrating as hard as he could was
finding the gap opening between him and Maureen, and Patrick kept
appearing almost alongside and then sailing off in a tight circle
to get back behind him. He gave the sail an encouraging tug, and
felt it tug back, which felt good although, if anything, Maureen
left him even further behind. Ross tugged again, a little
frustrated now and could have cursed Patrick who appeared alongside
yet again.

A REAL DESERT
ISLAND

“You’ll go
faster if you let the sail out more”, he said. “Hurry up. We’re
getting left behind”.

Ross stuck his
tongue out, to hide his embarrassment, but did as was suggested,
remembering Jerry’s words about letting the sail out until it
flapped. It was a lot of ease. It took ages, even eons, before the
sail even thought about flapping, but all the time Ross eased the
sheet, the boat hopped over the tiny ripples a little faster, and
as Dean still wasn’t managing a straight line, and the others all
had to follow him, while Ross could sail straight towards Maureen,
they gradually closed the gap. Now they were out of the bay, Ross
felt the surge of the waves lifting the boats like seven bobbing
corks. These were only tiny waves but Susan couldn’t help squeaking
as the odd larger wave slopped against the side, roller coastered
the boats and travelled on its way. Jack had worked out now, that
if he copied Dean exactly even when he was doing it wrong, the
distance would stay the same, and was concentrating on a private
game of “Simon Says”. He’d hardly noticed how far they had gone. He
was enjoying the rhythm of the waves. Up, whoosh, down, pause, up,
whoosh, down pause….just for a moment he took his eyes off Dean and
glanced around. They had actually passed the nearest corner of the
island. He could see a cormorant in his black suit of feathers
standing sentry duty on the rocks which marked the shoreline with a
gentle surf. Looking forwards again, he found that Dean had changed
course, following Jerry into the cove at the south east end of the
island where a golden sandy beach welcomed them and offered a soft
landing. Susan gazed around in awe. The bay seemed miles wide from
her tiny pea sized boat. On one side the sea stretched away for
ever, all the way to America. Behind her, and on two sides the
mountains stretched up, massive, shadowing, almost black and
threatening as the sun hid for a moment behind a ridge of cloud.
For a second, she imagined she was alone in the bay in a storm and
shuddered at the thought, and then Dean was calling from the island
headland and she concentrated on following Jack, and Maureen who
had overtaken her in the excitement of getting ashore. The sandy
cove was wrapping itself around them, and then she had arrived,
remembering to turn into the wind and let the sail go as she
scrunched onto the sand, next to Jack. Looking round, she copied
him, pulling the boat clear of the water, and undoing the sail so
that she could wrap it neatly around the mast. Patrick and Ross
were now doing the same.