The twenty-first day of March, the first day of Spring, and although it was not actually snowing, it was certainly cold enough with a bitter north-easterly wind.

Grasshopper had already been out once this year, crewed by a ‘hard man’ but now she was to be crewed by Pat, whose experience was limited to sailing a Mirror on the Exe one balmy summer day and whose main memories were of receiving a blow to the head from the boom and then being told to “Get your head down, you silly bitch!” I hoped to be more polite and the boomless Drascombe Lugger could be expected to save Pat a lot of grief.

After a short evening sail we beached on the lee side of Brownsea Island under the camp site and, having rigged the tent, set off to look for signs that the winter really was over. The peacocks, always a feature of Brownsea, were in good voice as were the geese and as we walked through a fairyland in the gathering gloom saw that the daffodils were standing in groups, chatting to each other about these humans disturbing their tranquillity. I would not have been surprised to see fairies dancing on the greensward. And so we wandered back to Grasshopper standing alone on the dry sand, the gleam of water behind her, and behind that, darker shades of black in a black night sky, the Purbeck Hills. The weekend had begun.

Saturday was a glorious day with a gentle force three north-easterly. But we had expected a little cold weather and spent the morning sailing over the mud banks, sticking on them occasionally and marvelling at the shape of the underwater mountains of mud. Then, as Grasshopper tired of this sport and the tide began to ebb, we sailed on, round Green Island where I demonstrated the simplicity with which ‘man overboard’ drill can be carried out on a lugger. Over went the fender, up went the tiller and round we went in a gybe. At this point, as I explained to Pat, the boat is almost stopped and you lift in the fender — only the fender was at least 15 feet away. Pat was more impressed at the effort needed to tack back to the lost fender in order to retrieve it, but not so happy when I threw it inboard in a sweeping arc and splashed icy water all over her. Funny how sensitive women are!!!

Around 1500 the sky to windward looked ominous, windward now being south-west, and so we sailed close in under the south side of the Wareham Channel, anchored and decided to call it a day. It was not before time. Pat was showing early signs of exposure and was unable to fit her side of the tent. It seemed to take me a long time, too. As we lit the Primus for tea, the snow arrived and we congratulated ourselves on getting our protection round us. And later, a walk on land restored our circulation completely. This time there were no fairies, however, just a biting wind which must be fought by plant life, bird life and humans alike. Winter had not yet left us and we were being punished for our temerity in pitting ourselves against the elements. Grasshopper was even more welcoming as we returned to her and made ourselves a substantial meal.

It proved to be a wild night and morning was no better. The rain, for it was raining now, came down in stair rods — horizontally. It seemed that nothing lived on the whole earth except us; Grasshopper occasionally lurched and moaned and the tent bulged alarmingly with the ridge-pole bending far more than I ever intended when designing it. And this was in the lee of the land. We had to cross the open harbour to get back to Sandbanks, and we had to do it this day. Whether Pat was aware of the problems I know not; certainly she did not complain to me about our situation.

We motored out at 1300, as soon as the tide served and I very soon realised that we could carry the jib and mizzen. As soon as I set these the motor appeared redundant so, whilst Pat steered I went aft and stopped it. There was a noise like the crack of doom and Grasshopper heeled alarmingly. On a Drascombe Lugger it is the work of seconds to furl the jib after which the boat will ride head to wind. I beat my own record and then turned my attention to the mainsail, which when not used is normally left up but rolled up tight and tied to the mast. The top part, which was not tied, had unrolled and the squall was doing its best to tear it to shreds. Lower the gaff to the pin-rail and re-furl the mainsail, re-furl the mizzen and re-start the outboard motor. The wind had now more east than south in it and it was clearly in a vengeful mood, and right in our teeth. I said that we had sailed as soon as the tide served and the discerning reader will realise that we now had wind against tide conditions with an icy wind of at least force six in strength.

Gallantly I sat in front of Pat and deflected some of the water from her as we crashed into the troughs. I swallowed great gulps of green sea water, my hands were numb and my face hurt where icy needles of rain and spray perpetually lanced the skin. And then the mainsail started to unroll again! I watched in fascination because, even in a safe Lugger, to try to stand in those conditions would have been dangerous, let alone the fact that we were both numb with the cold. Lady Luck had not deserted us, though, and the sail did not unroll further while in the next forty minutes we battled across the open water, until finally we reached the lee of Brownsea Island. I handed Pat the tiller and went forward, untied the parrels and put the gaff and sail in the cockpit, then doing the same with the mizzen mast and sail. As I sat down again Pat said “I feel sick”, but managed to control herself.

Across the main channel and back to Sandbanks. It all seemed much easier now, but perhaps we were too far gone to notice. With the blind instinct born of many approaches I motored up to the hard, remembered the rudder and centreplate and put Grasshopper ashore. We stepped out stiff and cold, the rain still coming at us horizontally and ducked into the lee of a boat standing in the yard. Behind us the waves still showed white caps midst the sombre grey. A small voice said “Hold me, Bill” and as I put my arms around her murmuring that it was all over, she commenced to shake uncontrollably, pressing herself against me as she finally gave way to the fear she had repressed for the last ninety minutes. Life has its compensations!