'Mystery,' Thames boat ('foreign' boat).
Once a year there is what is called an Ocean Match—that is, a match from Lowestoft to Harwich—on the Saturday before the regatta of the Royal Harwich Yacht Club. This is looked upon as a great adventure by the river boats, which tackle the sea under the cloud of canvas which is enough on the rivers. The trip to Harwich and back, and the excitement of bringing up in wide water, after the safety of a grassy margin, furnish food for many tales for the rest of the year. The crux of the thing is the passage round the bleak Orfordness, where the tidal race raises a cruel sea if there is any wind; the great mainsails with their long booms cannot easily be reefed under way.
One necessary rule upon these rivers sometimes causes trouble to strangers who are unaware of it. In the narrow reaches it is almost impossible to pass a boat to leeward, so if the overtaking boat can but get a few inches of her bowsprit overlapping to windward of the slower boat, the latter must give way and let the other pass to windward of her.
Visitors often get nervous when they see a wherry bearing down upon them, but there is no occasion for them to do so. If the boat-sailer observes the rule of the road, he may be sure that the wherryman will do so. The latter are a very civil and obliging class of men, taking a keen interest in the doings of smaller craft and yachts. It is usual, however, for the yachtsman to remember that he is on pleasure bent and the wherryman on business, and he therefore gives way sometimes when not compelled to do so, to save the wherryman from having to put his craft about. In return the wherryman will often, when tacking, keep his craft shooting in stays to let a yacht beat past him. The wherries are so long and take up so much of the river when beating to windward that it is often very difficult to pass them at all unless they make this concession. The rowing boats which are hired by inexperienced people in great numbers at Oulton Broad are great sources of danger. The occupants generally go the wrong side of a sailing boat, and it is a wonder that accidents do not more often occur. Another source of difficulty are the anglers, who are very fond of mooring off the windward bank (where there is a quiet 'lee') well out in the channel, and perhaps at a 'scant' corner—that is, where the next reach being to windward the sailing vessels hug the corner as closely as possible in order to get a good shoot into the next reach and so save a tack. It does not do, however, to hug the corner too closely, as if it is at all shallow the way of the boat is deadened, though she may not actually touch the mud. The 'putty,' as the black soft mud of the river bottom is locally termed, plays an important part in sailing on Norfolk rivers. It serves sometimes to help a vessel to windward. Thus a wherry might not be able to hug the weather shore or to lay close enough to sail along the middle of a reach, but if she drops to the leeward shore the pressure of water between her bows and the mud will 'shoulder' her off and stop her leeway, so that she can drag round a corner and save a tack. Some of the wherrymen will say that they could not put their craft aground if they would while sailing sideways along the mud. The deeper-draught yachts do not reap this advantage to any extent.
One of the things which make a yachtsman ask if life is worth living is to run hard on the putty. He gets out his quants and shoves; but the poles sink deep into the mud, and require more force to withdraw them than to drive them in. Those who know the river best seem to me to get oftenest aground, because they cut it too fine, and if their calculations are out by an inch or two they stick fast. The desperate struggles to get free are more amusing to other people than to the chief actors in the scene. How blessed is the sight under such circumstances of a friendly steam-launch! I remember well one heart-breaking experience of my own in a 4-ton yacht which I was sailing single-handed. I got aground in the Bure at Yarmouth in the awful place known as the North End, and with a falling tide. I got off at last, after exerting myself until my heart beat frantically, my mouth was parched, and my eyes dim; then seizing a bottle I supposed to contain beer, I tossed half a tumblerful down my throat ere I found it was vinegar!
A good half of Oulton Broad is taken up by yachts lying at their moorings, which are buoys at a sufficient distance apart to give the boats room to swing. There appears to be some doubt as to what authority has the right to interfere, and so nothing is done; but a better plan would be to have proper mooring-places along the shore where yachts might moor in tier, a small charge being made for the privilege.
Below Oulton Broad is Lake Lothing, a tidal lake communicating with Lowestoft Harbour. A lock gives access to it. Lowestoft Harbour is a most convenient one, easily entered at all states of the tide. A large basin is reserved for the use of yachts during the summer months, and from its easy facilities for a day's sail at sea or a run up the Broads in the dinghy or steam-launch it is yearly becoming more popular with yachtsmen.
Leaving Oulton Broad and re-entering the Waveney, we find deep water right up to Beccles, which some sea-going trading vessels use as their port; but in the upper reaches the river is very narrow. It is, however, extremely pretty. Almost the last of the lateeners—the old 'Ariel'—hails from Beccles.
On every Whit Monday there are great goings-on at Oulton. There is for one thing a regatta, and the Broad is literally crowded with boats; and for another it is the smacksman's yearly holiday, and he is very much in evidence both ashore and afloat. It is, however, but fair to say that the disgraceful scenes of drunkenness and fighting which formerly characterised Whit Monday are not so marked. The smacks' crews are now so well looked after by mission-ships afloat and Salvation Armies ashore that a most gratifying improvement has taken place in their manners and customs.