In some far-off, bright Azore;
From Bahama and the dashing,
Silver flashing
Surges of San Salvador.’
In August of our first summer afloat, we went for a month’s cruise on the Essex coast. We had various mishaps of the kind which arrive out of the blue and remind the yachtsman that, however long his experience, he is still a learner.
One day, beating down the Colne in a fresh wind and a buffeting short sea, I made an error of judgment by sailing between two anchored barges where there was not enough room to handle the Ark Royal. Finding myself in difficulties, I let go the anchor, but we dragged on to one of the barges and bumped against her as gently as our best fendoffs would let us. Our anchor had fouled the other barge’s cable, and it took some time to clear it, even with the help of the friendly skipper of the barge we had bumped.
THE RIVER ORWELL
‘Aren’t that the little ould Will Arding, sir?’ he said, when we were ready to drop astern and let go.