Opposite: the 6ft 7in George Martin strides the deck as he prepares his crew for the start of the Bermuda Race. Martin’s right-hand man Sid Briggs can be seen in the back of the picture to port keeping an intensely close eye on everything that is going on; to Martin detail was everything and getting all aspects onboard perfect before a race the key to a happy and race-winning ship. And fetching in to the start of the race (above) – note the high 2ft bulwarks that Martin favoured… ‘to ensure better comfort on deck for my crew’
to find they ‘had the heels of her’, although twice when they had worked out a nice lead the wind shifted and she came back at them, so it was all to do again. Eventually she headed away and there were no more yacht sightings from that point. After a night of calms and catspaws they
took a little northwesterly air and set the spinnaker, storming along, feeling the illu- sion of a real chance. Then, once again, dis- aster struck. A curious swell came straight to meet them, the ship plunged, the spinnaker took a terrible jerking… and burst near the clew. Briggs made a working repair using their patterned tablecloth from the saloon but they had lost three or more hours. Soon afterwards the calms returned once again. At last, with a southerly breeze freshen-
ing, with a touch of west, they sailed her as hard as she could, consistently logging 8 or 9kt. Nightfall found her with tremendous strain on her gear, driving into the head sea – George eased off, having visions of something else carrying away and putting her out of the race. Besides, he had, for the time being, ‘lost faith in shackles!’ When they eventually made Bermuda they saw one white sail, then another, and
recognised that others had come in before them… but it had been a magnificent race. They anchored in nine fathoms at St George’s where the houses of the little town gleamed white in the moonlight, their lighted windows casting long unbro- ken reflections upon the perfect stillness of the water. Cedar trees filled the air with scent, standing out like the fantastic shapes of a Japanese watercolour. There was a sense onboard that the twilight scene was something like a fairyland. Then followed the final occasion in
what George called the ‘diplomatic’ part of their visit; he wrote to his mother that he ‘had worked really hard to make an entente’, and post-race they had many days when up to a hundred people came aboard, which was an exhausting but vital part of the job they had come to do – forge links between British and American fol- lowers of this new sport of ocean racing. At a final ceremonial dinner given by
the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club under the palm trees of the New Windsor Hotel competitors and flag officers feasted on turtle steaks, gave speeches and raised toasts to both king and president, with
Jolie Brise’s participation described as the outstanding feature of the race. Some said that she had not had her
‘weather’; but everyone admired the way this ‘single sticker’ had fought every inch of the way, provisioned and equipped for a return voyage of 3,000 miles, coming in a good fifth out of 16 vessels, including one boat that had been fancied for winning the Fastnet and another that crossed the line 60 hours after her. The other competitors were also aware that she would soon be ‘showing her squaresail to the southwest- erlies’, tirelessly forging her way back to England to defend her Fastnet title. George, seated next to the governor as
guest of honour, spoke warmly of the great welcome they had received both in New York and in Bermuda, stressing the similar- ities between all ocean-racing yachtsmen. He said that his own Ocean Racing Club
‘had risen directly out of the Bermuda Race’ and that he saw no reason why the new sport ‘should not take a firm hold on English yachtsmen’. Jolie Brise crew for the Bermuda Race, Herbert Stone, was a US member of the new ORC’s committee and he announced that he would do everything
SEAHORSE 41
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