[PUNT RACING.]
The first punts on our river—the Medway—were simply flat-bottomed shoe-shaped boats, which were built to slide over the mud, and were principally used by muddies and watermen, or by those people who, having boats anchored off the shore, required something they could push over the intervening flat. With a wind astern or on a slight incline in the mud, the slipping process was simple, the happy owner of one of these primitive punts finding himself on the river with but little trouble. A friend of ours at Gillingham determined to build himself one in his own dining-room to use for rowing, and being of an ingenious turn of mind, as he had to pull the punt up into his garden every time she was used, he added a detachable wheel under the bow, and then by fixing her oars on either side of the gunwale as handles, he was able to wheel her up and down the causeway with the greatest ease. This friend had long since found out that the Gillingham boy, boats, and mud did not agree. He it was who first saw the possibility of the punt being turned into a sailing boat, and when this idea occurred to him he started building the Snowflake, an ordinary mud punt with square chime, a centre plate and lug, which in its turn gave place to another named Crystabel. A small club was then thought of, for the purpose of opening up the healthy enjoyment of punt racing to the working class, and it was soon formed and my husband invited to become Commodore. A small subscription of half-a-crown, and a shilling entrance fee, made it possible for the working man to enter, and most races were arranged to suit his convenience. The money was paid to the officer of the day before the start, and only by the boats competing.
CRYSTABEL. NELSON.
Sketch made by W. L. Wyllie, A.R.A. For The Sportswoman's Library.
PUNTS RACING.
Punts in those days only cost from £4 to £5, and we soon had several. Our eldest son was promised a boat as soon as he could swim, which hurried matters, and a new punt was laid down, finished and christened Nelson before the summer was out, but this, as well as all the earlier ones, leaked. Then a real start was made. My husband being fired with the idea of improving the breed, began cutting out and drawing many models preparatory to building. The greenhouse was found to be the only place long enough, so the boat throve though the flowers faded, the pots grew chips and copper tacks to the despair of the gardener, and we had no show of flowers that winter. In the early spring, the new creation was taken into the little wood close at hand, and there with the sweet primroses and bluebells growing all round her was turned bottom up for all who were interested to come and sand-paper her whenever there was a "spell oh" in the course of the day's work. She was then finished off with a scarlet coat, and carried on the shoulders of four men in procession to the beach, where the christening ceremony was to be performed. At the moment, the family being full of Lear's Nonsense Songs and Stories, the little girl insisted she must have lavender water tinged with pink. So this of course was supplied. The boys ran up flags and hurrahed enough for the launching of a first-class cruiser, the men gave a big shove, and the little girl broke her bottle, calling out good luck to Scarlet Runner. This punt never leaked a drop, and sailed splendidly for her size, though unlike the accommodating bicycle of a well-known song, she would not hold two, and in a sea little but a man, mast and sail could be seen. At this time bigger punts were built, principally by Mr. Baker, a fruit-grower of Gillingham, who introduced a stronger, larger type with much higher freeboard. From his little yard were launched Tar Baby, Go By, Satan, and lastly Black Bess, which held her own against all comers. The blacksmith also built Ethel and Mud Puppy, so that altogether there was a nice little class. Scarlet Runner, after several alterations, ultimately beat Black Bess. Then came a decision to sail under Y.R.A. rules, and bring the boats up to half-rating. This in most cases meant building afresh, so once more Commodore started chipping bits of nice soft wood, till the desired shape for the new punt to hold two was arrived at. We then hunted for a building shed, and at last settled on a loft over the stables, a nasty draughty place, but one with plenty of room. The punt was drawn out life size on the floor in chalk, and five nice fir planks were procured from the village carpenter for the bottom. The centre plank was one inch thick, and the two on either side three-quarter; a grown oak knee formed the stem, and another the stern post, and to these a strong rope was fastened to make into a tourniquet to give the proper rocker to the bottom. Every day as it grew dusk, off we all went to that horrid cold loft, lit up the lamps and started an abominable din of hammering, a boy generally buzzing round the while with a broom to clear away some of the chips. When I grew tired of crouching and holding a hammer to the rivets, then the boy was victimised. The wheelwright came to lend a hand in the evenings, and envy seized my soul as I watched him send home screw after screw as if they were going into so much butter. Commodore would not even leave his work to come in to dinner, and looking back now, I really think it must have been a very uncomfortable time. The sides were made out of one wide plank of Kauri pine without a join. This was riveted to the beams and angles of Bull metal, and a devoted friend put in the mast step, which to this day holds all the water it catches, sending up a spirt as the mast drops into place. The centre board case gave a good deal of trouble, but even this gave way to patience. The seams were gone over with the greatest care with putty and varnish, as we were determined she should not leak, and the mixture proved most satisfactory, as whatever water the punt shipped ran out of the centre board case, and never a drop came through the seams. I was greatly distressed when the well was put in. I really could not see how I could be expected to sit in any comfort on a butcher's tray, which it resembled. The idea in itself no doubt was lovely, for any water coming on board emptied itself out of the tray, which was flush with the top of the centre-board case, down the case, thus making the boat absolutely unsinkable. But fancy sitting for hours with one's knees up to one's chin in a calm. I argued for a long time, and was made to sit in position over and over again, my husband declaring it was quite comfortable, but I could not see it. I agreed, however, to waive the question till the punt should be afloat. So a light deck was put on her, with canvas strained and painted over it, and then she was turned bottom up on the tressels, and Commodore planed, whittled and sand-papered till every line was beautifully fair. The rudder was shipped on to the transom on the curved Bull metal gudgeons, so that if it touched the bottom it slid up the gudgeons without coming off. It could also be triced up with a line when sailing in shallow water.