A Forgettable Sail

Gibraltar Marina and Runway viewed from top of rock 1986

1986 could not be described as a vintage year for a man with a boat. Strong westerly winds churned up the channel almost every weekend denying any fun on the water.The escalating cost of fuel and moorings were getting prohibitive.It gave credence to the mariner who suggested owning a boat was like standing under a cold shower tearing up 20 pound notes.

Then out of the blue I had a phone call from John, a freckle faced, ginger haired cockney.
‘Hey Gord how-d,yer fancy a seven day shake down sail in the Med?’
‘Tell me more John.’
‘Yeah, well me and Keith have been invited by this bloke who’s been left a load of money by his Granny. He’s chucked in his job with the big red bus company, divorced his wife, sold the house and bought a big boat in Benalmadena.I thought you’d like to come.He said it would be OK. We only have to pay the airfare,he’s paying for all the grub and booze etc.

Now this seemed a more sensible way to enjoy boating. John and Keith were members of Greenwich Yacht Club. I had known them for many years and frequently enjoyed sailing on their boats.
The flights were arranged for the 13th of December 1986.John arranged for a mate of his to take us to the airport. I started to have doubts when his mate turned up in an ex black maria with darkened windows and all.
.’ So where’s Keith? I said lifting my holdall into the grubby interior.
  ‘John lowered his voice, well to tell you the truth Gord it’s a bit embarrassing. Some years back before you met him, he spent 6  months in the slammer for nicking stuff. He won’t  come near this prison wagon.He’s not a real thief, he only nicked shiny stuff  for his boat,.his boat sparkles like a christmas tree You could say he’s a bit of a magpie. ‘‘Blimey, I’m a bit shocked John, so he only nicked shiny stuff for his boat. Hmm- so,the judge didn’t accept the extenuating circumstances then ?’
‘Err no, but don’t say nothing Gord, it was a long time ago.’

    Dominic apologized for the untidy appearance inside his black mariah but he had seven kids and his wife was expecting any day..John raised his eyebrows,’Jesus, Dominic what do you do in your spare time?.’

’He should have apologized for his driving too,with all the angry hooting and screeching brakes as he wandered from one lane to another. I decided I would get a taxi for the return journey. ‘So John, what about this Charlie bloke who owns the boat and divorced his wife?’.
John rubbed his chin, “Well we don’t know much about him. Although he has the distinction of being the only man in the long history of Greenwich Yacht Club that has been booted out and told never to return.’
‘Oh no! What did he do? Well apparently he’s manic’
‘ John, what do you mean manic? what  have you lumbered me with?’
‘ It’s bad enough with this prison taxi and flying on the 13th. But stuck on a boat for a week with a jail bird and a manic depressive,I want to go home John’
‘Don’t worry, Gord we are going to have a fantastic time in the sun,you’ll see, all buckshee too.’

The sailboat lacked a bit in the luxury department but was solidly built with a sea -kindly hull. Charlie had been driving a bus for twenty years back and forth over the Greenwich Meridian.He seemed a quiet bloke but was evidently enjoying his new found freedom. Our first day was a real joy as we sailed along the coast line towards Malaga in a calm blue sea
.Charlie had cooked up a surprisingly edible breakfast of egg,sausage and bacon.He seemed a good natured sort with a ready smile and  I found it difficult to believe he could be objectionable.He later made some chunky sandwiches which lacked a bit of etiquette but were tasty and the red wine was very quaffable. The hillsides were scarred with heavy earth moving machinery in the drive to build more blocks of flats and hotels for the tourist industry.
 
When we arrived in Malaga I was surprised at the haphazard way the boats were moored. Some lay stern to the key, others bow to the key and some on their beam. Charlie decided with some hesitation to go bow to key. I lacked the agility of my companions who leapt ashore with no difficulty. I took a deep breath and nearly landed in the first aid hut to their collective amusement.We spent a leisurely day in the sun watching the boat owners going about their everyday business. Charlie sloped off to the shops to get some more groceries.
He showed the first signs of his manic depression on discovering the shops were closed for some holiday. “We’ll have to bloody go tomorrow’ he fumed,what a bloody nuisance
The following morning he gave us a sample of his real full bodied manic depression.
Returning from the shops with a bulging carrier bag of groceries he misjudged his leap onto the foredeck. He did a couple of spins around the bow roller and jettisoned the groceries into the drink.There followed an explosion of the most vile language as he jumped up and down with rage.Heads popped out of hatches as the local boatowners watched his tantrums with disbelief.

Hardly  a word was spoken during the day until late In the afternoon when Charlie appeared on deck with a large cardboard box and mumbled something about fitting an automatic wind pilot..
‘Do you want a hand?’said Keith trying to be helpful
‘No thanks’ snapped Charlie as he studied the instruction leaflet. Shortly afterwards we heard a loud splash and Charlie went berserk.’ It was top of the range,cost an effing fortune,’ he screamed.
Keith tried to calm him down. “Steady on Charlie, so it’s a few quid down the drain, but it was daft trying to fit that while we are at sea, you should have done that in the harbour ’
  ‘Yeah, chipped in John,you’re a lucky bastard with all that money and you keep chucking everything in the drink, I reckon you were happier driving a bleeding bus.’
Our relationship with Charlie deteriorated even further when he stopped supplying the food and drink and we had to buy our own.We stopped at various marina’s on our way to Gibraltar and during his absence we discussed mutiny and abandoning ship.The problem is, said John He’s got our bleeding passports.’
  They had to be shown every time we entered a new harbour. The main consolation was the glorious weather.I spent much of my time in the sun reading a splendid book. Keith spent most of his time vigorously polishing Charlie’s oil lamp. As John explained to me later,’He’s not trying to do Charlie any favours,but he does that sort of thing when he’s angry,he likes to keep busy.
’I was horrified when Charlie headed towards a non-existent  marina.
‘You can’t go in there’ shouted Keith, and John joined in ‘There’s not enough water you’ll go aground. I noticed the changing colour  of the water from blue to murky grey just ahead. I wanted to grab the wheel from him when I realized we were going to get our feet wet and he was going to wreck his boat. “Look, Charlie I said, there are no mast in there you can’t go in you will wreck your boat.’
‘This is my boat and there are too many captains and I’m going in.’
At that moment a small figure came running along the shore line frantically waving his arms. He stopped and cupping his hands to his mouth shouted ‘If you want to come in here why don’t you walk’.I cut the throttle just in time and Charlie sheepishly turned the boat around, he kept out of the way most of the time and shut himself in his cabin. I  took over the helm as we approached Gibraltar.


Me at the helm approaching Gibraltar

Kieth was still polishing Charlie’s oil lamp and I couldn’t help noticing his odd looking shirt which he hadn’t changed since our arrival.It was a chalky grey with a darker grey print of birds feet all over it. I couldn’t help thinking it looked like the convict uniforms with arrows depicted in cartoons.He certainly looked the part polishing the lamp.
Gibraltar looked very much like the uk with its red pillar boxes and helmeted policemen.We climbed the rock and enjoyed the antics of the monkeys annoying the unsuspecting tourist.
We arrived at the time the border with Spain had just been reopened.Charlie bought some wine and groceries, an awkward conciliatory gesture and announced we would be making a very early start to get back to Benaldemar.
We came out of the harbour in a thick mist with visibility down to a few yards. The mist soon cleared and the wind increased dramatically. There was little protection from the drenching spray sweeping into the cockpit. Suddenly the conditions were looking ominous. We were doing nearly ten knots, more than the hull’s design speed.
I looked at Keith and he read my thoughts and nodded.He turned to Charlie ‘ We better get this sail down quick we are getting over pressed.’
‘We’ll leave it a bit longer, it’s coping alright ‘’’.he said.
I popped my last murray mint into my mouth just as a strong gust of wind caught the side decks and we keeled over. I suddenly realized we were under water and I had floated off the cockpit seat. I clutched at the winch drum just as the boat righted itself. There was a brief moment of  inaction as we recovered from the shock. John had his arms wrapped around the shrouds with water running out of his pockets,his eyes were wide and staring like a zombie. ‘Charlie yelled at him in a high pitched squeaky voice. ‘Quick, get the kringle over the ramshorn.’ John looked puzzled, shook himself and spat out the salt water,  he blinked and mouthed his reply ‘.Put the whatover where?’John wasn’t too knowledgeable  on the more technical elements of sailing..Keith clambered onto the deck ‘Come on John let’s get this bloody sail down before we get another ducking.I suddenly realized my cheeks were bulging with salt water and I needed to breathe. The murray mint had flavoured the salt water and I didn’t want to spit it out so I swallowed the water and crunched the mint.
I kept my thoughts to myself. The tongue lashing  Charlie got from John and Keith were adequate with the additional damage to his cabin and navigational area which were devastated. Luckily my things on the port side were largely unaffected apart from a damp sleeping bag.
There was now a real urgency to get this nightmare voyage over as soon as possible and Kieth opened the throttle to maximum on the 10hp engine.We gathered our cases and left Charlie to secure his own boat without any thanks or goodbyes.

‘Well thanks for a fantastic time John’ I laughed, with all that free food and drink.
  ‘Yeah, sorry about that Gordon, but you did get a sun tan.
I never want to see that miserable sod again’ grumbled Kieth, although he’ll  finish up in Davy Jones Locker soon enough,the way he’s going on. We headed towards  the customs point. A customs man pointed at Kieth and I noticed he was still wearing the same shirt.. I also noticed a shiny object sticking out of the top of his holdall as the customs man unzipped it..I then realized with disbelief he had  nicked Charlie’s oil lamp.