Martlet is thoroughly traditional, based on a love of old fashioned seafaring, and simple to a Spartan degree. George Feltham of Old Portsmouth built her for me last year as a one-off boat to his own design in response to a request for a cruising dinghy, undecked, gunter rigged and with enough depth under the thwarts for comfortable sleeping afloat. She looks remarkably big and roomy for a 14 footer. So much so that the first question asked by strangers when they look at her is, “What is she, 16 foot?”

Having spent many happy hours yarning about small boat sailing in Spithead in years gone by with the ageless Mr. Feltham, whose memory is as sharp as the well worn tools with which he was building craft when Queen Victoria was alive, I nursed the ambition to own a boat by him. He drew a half-breadth and profile plan for my inspection and when I looked at it I could see at once that despite constant reminiscences on his part, he had drawn the very boat I wanted.

From then on I watched her grow in his upstairs workshop overlooking the historic Camber Docks near Portsmouth Point. Plank by plank, slowly she grew. Then the timbers were steamed and fitted, thwarts and knees added, then bottom boards, cleats and metal work. I was in on a process which 50 years ago would have been too common to take notice of, but which now seemed the final flourish of a dying skill.

Launching day was like something out of a novel. All the Feltham family turned out to see Martlet lowered into the muddy green water by tackles. Mr. Feltham watched keenly to see how she sat on the water. It came to me then with surprise that this was the first time he had a proper view of her, because in the narrow workshop there was room only for an end-on appearance.

My shipmate for the ‘delivery’ voyage from Portsmouth to my home waters at Millbrook, above Southampton docks, was Peter Smith, who regularly sails Solent Seagulls and therefore has a love of clinker-built boats. We stepped the mast and set up the hambro line lanyards and bent on the sails. The Felthams gave us a stylish send-off, escorting us through the harbour entrance in their Folkboat, then waved us farewell as we broad reached towards Gilkicker.

Once out of its shelter we felt the weight of a brisk nor’wester, with white caps in plenty sparkling in the sun as the tide turned against the breeze. Martlet may be sedate compared with lighter racing dinghies, but she was glad to have both of us sitting out on the gunwale that day. Peter whooped with delight as she strode forward, close-hauled, spray adding an extra gleam to her new varnish. She felt so capable that we made an extra long board over towards Wootton, roared through the heaving wake of a liner and went about off Peel Bank. Then Martlet’s old-fashioned rig taught us a lesson. With a crash the gunter yard came down and the sail bellied into the water to leeward — mercifully without breaking the battens.

It was a single-halyard hoist and the rope was ulstron, which had proved too slippery so that the half-hearted hitch had freed itself with the strain of being hard on the wind. We failed to secure the few inches of halyard at the top of the mast and had to steer for Lee-on-Solent under jib, unstep the mast, re-reeve the halyard and make all fast again. This time I avoided the clove hitch which had let us down before and made about four round turns and two half hitches. Unprofessional but effective. That long weary beat up Southampton Water against the unrelenting nor’wester proved Martlet’s weatherliness, as have several weekend cruises since proved her ideal suitability for my sort of dinghy cruising.

As with all boats, you gradually tailor her to your own taste. She may be old-fashioned, but it was soon clear that natural fibre is definitely not inferior to modern man-mades. Gradually the rig became a bigger edition of that of my faithful Walker 12, Ladybird — which I firmly refuse to part with. The smaller boat is magnificent for single-handed sailing and during Cowes Week last year I sailed her over, heavy-laden with suitcases, to cover the Week for my newspaper. Incidentally, while shore-bound and working at Cowes I spotted several DCA burgees telling of the rally upstream at Folly.

Martlet was planned for more extensive cruising, two up, with room to sleep and cook aboard under a properly tailored boat cover. Her beam is 5ft. 6in., allowing two roomy berths either side of the centreboard case. Right up for’ard she has that refinement of an open boat, a raised triangle of bottom boards forming a roomy bowsheets, ideal as a cooking platform when at anchor and wonderfully roomy for stowage when under way. The rig, of 110 sq. ft., is of comfortable dimensions for cruising, with good deep reefs in the main. The jib is bigger than usual in a non-racing boat and this has proved a wonderful aid when one has to plug to windward and also gives an effective first reef when it is handed.

Any small boat is wet in a seaway and I would far rather have an open boat, where everything is easily get-attable, than those gloomy damp caverns under foredecks that seem so widespread. Of course, one is laid open to criticism of having no dry stowage space. Not on your life. A strict discipline for dry stowage has been evolved in Martlet. In addition to the usual plastic bags and thick tarpaulin kitbags, a new refinement has been added to the inventory.

It is a spacious container, tough yet soft so that it does not damage the hull, has a lid with an overlapping skirt which keeps out the wettest spray. Did this piece of gear come from a fashionable chandlers? No, it came from the ironmongers — it’s a plastic dustbin.