Saltus Grammar School - Yearbook (Hamilton, Bermuda)

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14 It was now getting dark and, by the help of the searchlight, we could make out the barrier reef, bathed in foam and waves. My fa ther put the boat at full speed. We all held our breath as we rushed to- wards the churned up water; the boat gave a lurch and plunged into the swirling water of the reef. We heard a loud grinding sound and then we were over. Once we were past the barrier reef, the water was much calmer, and under the steam of one engine we managed to get home safely. The next day the Banco had to be pulled up on the boat-slip. We then saw that one propeller had been broken off and that the other was almost off; the rudder was completely ruined. I have had quite enough of fishing for the moment and I imagine that it will be a long time before I go out in a boat again. R. LINES. Aged 14. Messing About in Boats Every other Thursday afternoon there is a Boat Regetta held at Deepdene Boathouse, the headquarters of the Harrington Sound Dinghy Club. About half past one men and boys start strolling in and begin their task of launching and rigging their sailboats. First the cover is removed and the boat is rolled down the slip and into the water; then it is paddled to the side of the dock. The spar is fixed in position and the stays are fastened. The sails are brought down and made ready for hoisting. Then, when everything is ready, the boat sails out of the camber. One by one the boats are fully rigged and sail away. By the time all of them are ready, the first race is about to start. The boats from the other parts of the Sound begin to come on the scene. The stake-boat puts the buoys out and comes back to start the boats. Boom. The five minute gun goes off. The boats jockey back and forth along the starting line. Then the one minute gun sounds, and at last the final gun is fired and the race begins. The boats sail on the tack on which they started for a little while, then they go about on the other tack. Meanwhile, back at the boathouse, quite a crowd has gathered to watch the race; most of them have brought their children. People begin to go swimming. Some of them paddle about in the canoe, others go for a row while the rest just enjoy themselves on the raft. As all this fun is going on, some of the members are up on the balcony

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13 surface. My father got out his boat, which is called the Banco , and met my uncle and Gordon at our private dock. There were two sturdy rods on board, so that all my uncle and Gordon had to bring was their lunch. My mother had prepared a good sandwich lunch for my father and myself, and had given me some pills to take, in case I be- came sea-sick. By nine o ' clock we had started and were heading for Argus Banks , about twenty miles off Bermuda, a well-known place for trolling. As we drew away from the barrier reef, I noticed that we were be- ginning to come across the large ocean swells. I started to feel slightly sea-sick, but, after taking one of the special pills, I soon felt all right. At eleven o ' clock we reached Argus Banks and the two trolling lines were put out. About two hours later we got a strike and, after a big struggle, my father landed a twenty pound wahoo, which is a fish looking very much like a barracuda, except that it has a larger tail and in general grows much bigger than a barracuda. After this, we decided to eat our lunch. As the afternoon wore on, I noticed that the wind was springing up and that the ocean swells were getting larger. The Banco rode over these swells with ease. S he is a twin-engined motor boat, thirty feet long, and all the boat is cabined in, except for about six feet at the stern, which has canvas over it. She can sleep four people comfortably and has a galley and bathroom. About four o ' clock my uncle got a strike and landed a small fifteen pound tuna. The wind was now rising steadily and soon the spray was washing right over the boat. We decided to start for home and, as we did so, the storm broke, with thunder and lightning. As the boat was turning, a large wave washed right over the stern. I could see that my father was worried and, when I asked him what was the matter, he said that, with the storm raging, we might not be able to find the channel through the barrier reef. He also told me that we had not mucTi gas left, as a result of a leak in the tank. The wind kept getting stronger and every now and then €he boat would give a great lurch as it plunged over the waves. Water washed in through one of the ports, which would not shut properly, causing the water in the boat to rise. We each had to take turns at the built-in pump to keep the boat from capsizing. In the distance a faint flash of light could be seen, which we supposed to be the Lighthouse. We knew that we must be drawing near the barrier reef. My fatTier de- cided to try to cross at once, because, if we did not, we would run out of gas and consequently be washed against the reef.

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15 watching the race with spy-glasses and binocnlars. Then suddenly someone yells out that a boat has capsized. The stake-boat immediately goes out to the distressed boat and helps to get it upright and bailed out. After the first race is finished, the boats come back to Deepdene and tie up alongside each other, and the skippers begin discussing the race. Then the starter comes round and gives instructions about the next race. In about fifteen minutes it is under way. The wind comes up a little, which makes things rather more interesting. And so the afternoon wears on. When the last race is over, the boats sail back to base, where they are unrigged, hauled out of the water and stored away until their next outing. The stake-boat picks up all the buoys and brings them and the Sailing Committee back to Deepdene. The boat then proceeds through Flatts Tide, out of Flatts Inlet and along the shore until it reaches Burchal ' s Cove, a secluded boat anchorage on the North Shore, where it ties up. So ends another day, messing around in boats. F. R. OUTERBRIDGE. Aged 14. An Angry Letter Sunny Vale Lane , Southampton. February 19th, 1954. Dear Tiger, Why on a bright, sunny morning, when my mistress lets me out in the sun, do you have to chase me up a tree? I would like you to know that cats, as well as dogs, have a right to go out in the early morning sun to relax. Yet the minute I am let out, over you come. I then have no other alternative but to jump up the nearest tree, to prevent you from catching me. Also I do not like the feeling of returning to my food dish and finding it empty, which shows that you have helped yourself in my absence, you impolite dog. Because of these things, I thought that I should write to you and tell you that your manners are getting out of control. Further-