Norman and I had just bought our first boat, a 12'6" clinker gaff rigged crabber or Sandown Bay pot boat about 50 years old and with oars which we thought were on the short side. Saturday was to be our first trip in a sailing boat.

The weather was fine with a light breeze. Having been reared by the sea we had no need of tuition, our rowing and model yacht experience being adequate to enable us to put "Aurora" through a series of manoeuvres and she behaved just as we expected. Regarding ourselves now as hardened and experienced mariners we grandly invited Norman's brother and a friend to a trip the next day in our "yacht". My brother also said he would come but for some reason would prefer to stay ashore and watch.

On Sunday a splendid SW breeze was blowing down Wootton Creek. Hoisting the jib we charged out to sea in fine style. "How's this", we chortled, "and we haven't hoisted the mainsail yet!" Our guests were most impressed. About a mile out we found that the wind was stronger and the waves quite large so decided to head back towards the creek just to check that we could get back. The mainsail was hoisted with some difficulty and we started tacking to and fro. After a while it became painfully obvious that the seas were slowing the boat and we were just not getting anywhere. The question was whether to continue our efforts or drop sails and row. Suddenly there was a splintering crunch and the whole rig collapsed. over the side. For a moment there was silence as four pairs of eyes gazed solemnly at the wreckage. “Well that settles it!" said someone almost with relief, “we row!"

At which we galvanised into action and clawed the horrid mess aboard. With two of the crew (there were no longer any "guests") at a time on the oars we sweated away only to find that those short oars were inadequate to make progress against wind and sea. Just then some friends in another boat who had seen our predicament came roaring past downwind, shooting their oat's across to us like a couple of torpedoes. These were snatched up and were a great improvement even though what with mast, boom, gaff and four oars, vie were beginning to look like a vessel in the timber trade. In order to gain more sheltered water, we closed the coast where we made better progress but unfortunately the area was littered with rocks.

It was a ding dong struggle, the boat would sag back and the chap at the stern would shriek "rocks", whereupon the crew at the cars with veins bulging would redouble their efforts. Eventually we reached the creek, moored the boat, tidied up and came ashore. We found that the cause of the mast failure was due to a shroud splice coming undone.

Looking round there was no sign of our rescuers or of my brother. Just then our friends came into the creek - walking along the shore. "What the............?"

"Give us our oars back" they yelled, "we can't get back under sail!"

After a while my brother appeared and seemed surprised to see us. ''Where have you been?" "Well I was watching you on the horizon when suddenly you weren't there so I went back to Ryde (three miles down the coast) to wait for your bloated bodies to be washed ashore:"

Some time later we met the chap who sold us the boat. "Don't think much of your splicing, one came undone and we lost the mast". "That's queer" he said, "I twisted the ends round and taped them up and they seemed quite strong when I hung on the shrouds from abeam."

Lessons learnt:

1. When buying a boat suspect all vital fittings and, if necessary, strip down to examine thoroughly.

2. Make sure the oars are the correct length.

3. If inexperienced, never go far from shore when the wind is fresh offshore.

4. For windward ability, the jib luff must be as straight as possible. Ours was an old fisherman's sail and had no hanks.

5. A tubby boat likes to be driven hard in a seaway (we did not know this at the time).