The Royal Southampton and Portsmouth Corinthian Yacht Clubs came to the rescue and gave fortnightly matches for the small craft, as well as for the 25 and 30 footers. Then the fun grew fast and furious, for the small boat racing having been given the necessary fillip, the designers put their best foot foremost and the sport was fairly started. A motley crew it was that assembled off the Town Quay every Saturday fortnight. Most of the boats were of the nice little cruiser type, slow as a country dinner party, nevertheless so enshrouded in canvas as to present a most sporting appearance. Any deficiency in design was balanced by unlimited additions in canvas, no expense being spared in sailcloth to make up the necessary speed. And how zealous was the competition! Life and death might have hung on the issue, judging by the ardour and agility displayed in the management of the boats.
"Every dog has his day," and this was the heyday of the Dauntless Amateur. An eager, perspiring, undefeated creature was he! Minus hat and socks, having shed all superfluities in clothing, he gallantly plied his task before the mast. Any effort to persuade him further aft, or into the "well," were unavailing. He loved to stand boldly up forward, the wind running riot through his hair, the poor boat shoving along all out of trim, owing to his misplaced weight, while he gallantly stood at attention, eager to signify that he was "ready for anything." However we shall see our hatless, sockless friend no more, his place being now filled by the peerless Itchen ferryman at thirty shillings a week.
The richest man now has the best boat, and if he does not get it the first time he goes on building till he succeeds. The same with the crew, the man with well-lined pockets gets all the best men by paying the best wages. But still even the designers are not wholly responsible for what their craft will turn out, as was proved by Sibbick building the unsuccessful White Rose for the Duke of York. Other cases I could also mention where money was no object, and boat after boat untiringly turned out for the same owner, yet without success. Then some lucky man may get a boat from the same designer which will clear the board for two or three seasons, her capacities having been all unknown to the designer himself.
How we managed in those days of unlimited canvas with only two hands remains a mystery. What with the enormous topsail and all the extra gear it entailed, the long spinnaker, boom, etc., and the largest mainsail that could be crammed on, the wonder is that we ever gybed round a mark at all, without capsizing the whole lot overboard. The gear of course was very much stouter and the boats slower on their helms than they are now, or it could not have been done. We have the same crew on a one-rater now that we used to have on the 25-footer Lil, which is most astonishing to think of when we compare the two boats. True they are practically the same length, but with what a difference in build. The Lil was a regular ship with her enormous spars and canvas, and her well timbered heavy hull and large cabin, whereas these little one-raters are mere cockle shells without half the amount of gear, nor are they nearly so hard on it. Nevertheless, anyone will tell you it is impossible now-a-days to manage a one-rater properly with less than two hands, and that with only two sails instead of four.
The first race I think ever sailed by women was between us—my sisters and myself—in the Fairy, and the Miss Coxes in their sister ship Colinette, I believe the Miss Hammersleys also formed part of the rival crew. I have but a vague recollection of the whole thing, being too young at the time really to grasp the situation in its full value, or for it to make any great impression on my mind, as I was always being taken racing in some boat or other. In 1885, we were again rivals in Verena and Lil, one of the Miss Coxes always going in the former, and one of us in the Lil. These were great wholesome boats with enormous sails, and we managed to do a lot of cruising between the races, which in those days only took place once a week. The Lil had quite a nice deep cabin which was the pride of our lives, pictures being hung in every available space, and little curtains and cushions to match. Little Fairy meanwhile was "not quite dead yet," and in 1888 "came up smiling" to fight the battle and the breeze in a resuscitated form. That year she proved herself no mean opponent, and succeeded in making the same figure of merit as Thalassa, the champion of the previous year. This success was due to a fin keel, an experiment of my father's which has since been through almost every imaginable variation, and still holds sway in a modified form among the smaller classes.
In 1887, Miss Cox built the Madcap at Payne's, and divided the honour with Thalassa, also a two-and-a-half-rater by Payne. The latter belonged to Colonel Bucknill, whose daughters are now so well known on the Solent. Miss Bucknill is indeed much sought after as a helmswoman, and with good cause, as she has learnt the work thoroughly and is as proficient at the helm as she is on the jib sheet. Her father has raced steadily every season since 1886, and she has almost always accompanied him and shared in the work most gallantly. I cannot be quite sure if we sailed Fairy or Lil that year, 1887, but I think both went to the line, my brother also designed a five-rater with but little success, being young he had to buy his experience of course, and learnt the advisability of going to Arthur Payne in future.
The year 1889 was a memorable one for us, as we were fortunate enough to possess the champion two-and-a-half-rater by Payne. Hummingbird was a charming boat in every respect, comparatively roomy, a good sea boat, and a wonderful performer to windward. She gained twenty-five firsts and four seconds, out of thirty-eight starts, and succeeded in routing three creations of the famous G. L. Watson. It was one of these, the Thief, which my sister, Mrs. Schenley, had the misfortune to possess. A most uncomfortable little craft it was. Only about five foot beam, with decks like sieves, and we were all crammed into little holes or cockpit places with only our head and shoulders out, for all the world like chickens coming out of an egg. That was really my introduction to racing. I had to work hard, as it was not the boat to take people in who did nothing. We were fortunate in securing Charlie Devis, who is now considered almost if not quite the best skipper on the Solent. He was then little more than a boy, so we were all young and enthusiastic together, and despite the many drawbacks I think we all enjoyed that season thoroughly. At any rate we were nothing daunted, and only waited till the next year to renew our efforts in a five-rater of the same type.
