“Here comes a wherry. What shall we do? There is no room to pass.”
“We must go to windward of her, or her sail will take the mast out of us. Here is a place made wide to admit of wherries passing, and we can hold on here until she gets by. There, that was a tight fit.”
The boat sailor must be very careful to keep to windward of the wherries in narrow waters, as their huge gaffs and sails take up a great deal of room, and if they catch your mast, they may carry it away, or capsize you. It is still more important not to get across the bows of a wherry, as she would get the best of the encounter, and a small yacht very much the worst of it. It is not often that accidents happen through any collision, but occasionally the crew of a row-boat get bewildered and row across the bows of a wherry, sailing fast, and a day of pleasure is turned into mourning. A special Providence seems to watch over amateur boat-sailors, and it is marvellous to see how they come unharmed out of predicaments which seem most serious. The wherries are sailed remarkably well, and you can generally rely on their carefulness, so that you may sail your yacht rigidly according to the rule of the road. One thing should be remembered, the wherry’s sailing is a matter of business, and the yachtsman’s is a matter of pleasure only; therefore, it is well to give way to a wherry, if there is any doubt on the point, and not hamper her unnecessarily.
The dyke we were then sailing down is about a mile long, leading westward to Womack Broad, which was once a nice sheet of water, but is very rapidly growing up, each year seeing an accretion to the growth of spongy marsh, and an additional layer of mud on the bottom. At present, the channel is navigable for wherries, which ply to Ludham village, at the further end of it.
On the right-hand side, as we entered the Broad, is a bit of an old-world picture: a boat-builder’s shed, large and old, and of picturesque construction, stands on the margin, amid low bushes and under the shade of mighty trees. Beneath it is a large boat, of an age and type unknown, and a wherry sleepily awaiting repair. Behind the boat-house is a barn, whose high-thatched roof is shaded by the branches of a cherry tree. By the side of the boat-shed is a dyke, where sundry small craft are ensconced. Behind all, and peeping out of a garden run wild, are low, thatched cottages, and scattered about, among the tall grasses, are trunks of trees, curved “knees” of oak, suitable for boat-building, and broken-up boats and punts. On the still water in front is moored a floating eel-fisher’s hut, and all around is the sense of the repose of the past. The former busy life has left its emblems resting in acquiescence with the fate which contracts the sphere of their usefulness, day by day, and year by year, as the vegetation slowly, but surely, drives out the water. That dense growth of reeds lies upon a skim of soil which would not bear the weight of a dog, and now undulates with the movement of the water, but in three years’ time it may bear the weight of a man.
It was a lotos lake to us that afternoon. Wynne painted, and I fished, and we sailed back to Heigham Bridges by moonlight.
Womack Broad is not shown upon some maps and charts, but those who are susceptible to a lovely scene should not pass it by.
