Through The Storm Read online

  “Right. Time to end the suspense.” There was an excited mutter and mumble , quickly shushed by those who wanted to hear what Nick was saying “I’m going to start by reading out what activities you will be doing today, and on the way out, or later on, after your duties you can pick up the list with your name on to find out what you’re doing the rest of the week. Keep quiet because I’m not going to shout over your mutterings. Here we go.” He looked down at his list. “Tennis with Jane: Susan, Jo, Leah, Patrick”.

  Somebody wolf whistled at Patrick’s luck, and Nick paused to glare. Silence returned.

  “Archery with Owen: Jack, Maureen and Arthur. Skiing with Jerry: Ross, David, Kerry, Dean, Rhiannon, Ray, Derek and Laura. All the others, meet at the kitchen door for sweet making. That’s all this morning. This afternoon it will be Canoeing with me: Kerry, David, Jo, Arthur and Derek. Sailing with Jerry: Ross, Jack, Susan, Patrick, Maureen and Dean. All the rest, Hill walking with Tess and Owen. When I’ve finished talking, remember to get straight on with your tasks, QUICKLY. Activities begin in half an hour. If you’re skiing, you should be at the mini bus at this time. The others, except the sweet makers, on the back patio. Lunch will be at 12.45, and afternoon trips begin at 2.15. OK. Let’s go”.

  There was a mad dash to tidy up and get going. In order to get the most amount of time for skiing, allowing for the travelling time, the skiers found themselves with the quickest jobs and were ready and waiting as Jerry appeared with the mini bus keys twirling from his fingers and his arm struggling to find his anorak sleeve.

  “In you get”, he said, unlocking the doors and hopping out of the way of the scramble.

  “Bags I sit next to Jerry”, whispered Rhiannon as the girls headed for the front seats. Jerry suggested they sing without him if they wanted to as his cat was a better vocalist than he was, “I croak just like a frog”, he laughed, “ so I’ll just concentrate on the driving”.

  Ross was hard put to find words to describe the wonderfulness of skiing. He tried great, excellent and brilliant but they didn’t really get the message across. Jerry was a clown, showing them what not to do and what happens if you do, “Just to save you learning the hard way,” he said, struggling up from the floor after his fourth fall. “Now practise with me, the right way to do it”. The group dutifully went through the motions, Rhiannon giggling at the daftness of doing everything without actually going anywhere, but even she found it the difference between success and failure when they really got going. Only Dean, in his enthusiasm managed to forget the drill and end up on his bum. Ross’s eyes lit up on his first run. The air whizzed passed as he pushed off and glided down the slope, as graceful as a swan. David was not far behind.

  “Winter Olympics, here I come,” he yelled as his confidence and speed increased.

  “Yippee!” Laura screamed.

  “Can we ski, or what?” Derek called as they all successfully completed their last twist.

  “How did it go?” Jack asked at lunch. He looked at the glowing faces. “No. Don’t tell me. I can tell already. It was magic, right?”

  David and Ross agreed. Jack wished he’d gone with them. “You know what? Arthur’s a born Robin Hood. He’s probably Robin Hood reincarnated, but Maureen’s too much of a tom boy to be Maid Marion. Me? I’m going to stick to sailing. Every time it was my turn, someone moved the rotten target.”

  Arthur was listening. “He wasn’t that bad”, he said thoughtfully, “I think, really, he was as good as us, but sometimes he was just a bit impatient and kind of snatched at it”. He turned directly to Jack, “When you did actually aim, you were spot on”, he said sincerely.

  “And how often was that?” David asked curiously.

  “Er”, Jack said, “Nice sausages, these.”

  Despite several more blunt questions about Jack’s ability as an archer, Jack refused to go into detail, and Arthur said he was sworn to secrecy, so they all concentrated instead on the sausages, which were as nice as Jack said.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Gosh. It’s lucky Dad’s not here”, Ross said as they galloped downstairs, stuffing spare clothes and a towel into his rucksack. “He’d never manage without his after lunch snooze.”

  Dean was right behind him. He’d had to promise to tidy up on his return having hurriedly tipped everything out on his bed to find his towel and then been told to hurry or he’d miss the bus. Maybe Arthur, with his neat stacks, had made a good move, Dean thought.

  David was just in front of Ross. “Yeah, my Dad’s the same. Can’t do anything for at least two hours after lunch. I mean what a waste of a life”, he agreed, also battling with spare clothes which seemed to prefer fresh air to the inside of his rucksack.

  “Everybody in”, Jerry was waving them, chauffeur like into the bus, and leaping into his seat. They were on the way. Over a tiny ridge of hills the sea sparkled its welcome. Jerry looked thoughtful and a little concerned.

  “Hmm. White tops out of the bay”, he said, “I think we’ll stay well inside today, and as Owen said, you will all listen and do very carefully to avoid nasty accidents.”

  Patrick perked up, anticipating excitement.

  “Will it be dangerous?” Susan asked anxiously.

  “Not if no one’s stupid”, Jerry replied. Susan eyed the rest of the group doubtfully, wondering if any of these people she hardly knew would be stupid. Maureen read her look.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “If we see anyone being stupid, we’ll just drown them quick and have done with them. Then the rest of us will be OK”. Her eye fell on Dean.

  “Don’t look at me”, he spluttered. “I’m going to me the most sensibilist I’ve ever been!”

  Susan still looked as if she hadn’t much faith in the overall intelligence level of the group, but nodded worriedly. The mini bus indicator clicked as they approached the sailing club grounds and pulled in through some wire mesh gates. Jerry pulled on the handbrake and leapt out before the others had moved. He was standing by the door dishing out bright orange buoyancy aids and waterproofs as the group jumped down. “First rule. These go on now, and nobody takes them back off again until you’re back in the changing rooms to shower”, Jerry said. “Now. Let’s get these boats rigged”.

  They tagged along behind Jerry as he led them over to some boats called Toppers and allocated them one each.

  “Susan and I are going to rig this one between us, and you are going to copy us”, Jerry explained. “First, we put the mast together”, he picked up two metal tubes and showed Susan how to slide them together. Ross nervously copied and Jack followed suit. Patrick had obviously done this before, and had his mast together before Jerry. In a hurry to get sailing, he gave Dean a hand, while Jerry slipped over to help Maureen.

  “Now put the sail over the top of the mast and feed it down, like so. Make sure you have the sail the right way up, starting with the widest end going over the mast first.”

  There was a pause and a lot of rustling noises while sails showed their character, some sliding on with no trouble at all, and others putting up a fight, hanging on to anything they could manage to wrap themselves around. Somewhat out of breath, Jack won his battle and looked around to find the others waiting for him. Jerry, however made no comment, other than a brisk nod of approval. “Now roll the sail around the mast so’s it can’t blow around in the wind and then we make like a pole vaulter and put the bottom of the mast in that slot in the boat. Push it straight up ‘til it slides into the hole properly…”

  RIGGING IN PROGRESS

  To Ross, it felt like one of those challenge games on TV, trying to keep up and put everything together right, but eventually six little boats sat ready to launch.

  “The most important thing to know when sailing is where the wind is blowing from”, Jerry told the group. “So, everyone, point to where the wind is coming from”.

  Patrick rolled his eyes and lifted a lazy arm. Jerry said this every year, and it was so obvious. The others were a little more hesitant, but all, i
n the end, decided Patrick was right, give or take the odd degree and pointed in the same direction.

  “Good start”, Jerry said. “We always set the sail, er that means tie in all the strings to hold it in place, with the boats pointing into the wind, so take them down the beach and point them the right way.”

  Patrick was already on his way. The others might think he was showing off, but really, he just wanted to get out there before the wind died away. The other would be sailors followed along like a mother duck with five ducklings in tow. Jerry started unrolling the sail on one of the boats which flapped, snatched and cracked, as if trying to escape as he fastened the clips (shackles, Ross corrected in his mind). Susan had jumped at the first loud flap and was looking more worried than ever at each clatter, rattle and slap. Jerry hardly seemed to notice it.

  “OK. I’m going to take you out one at a time to start with and show you the ropes, as they say. Please be patient. Depending on how you do and what the wind does, we’ll follow that with sailing in pairs, and then all on your own, with me in the motor boat, there.” He nodded in the direction of a bright orange boat with an engine on the back. “We’ll start with Susan, then Maureen, then Ross, then Jack, then Patrick …” Patrick shuffled his feet impatiently,” then Dean”. Jerry looked sternly at Patrick. “I haven’t forgotten you’ve done this before, and following your turn out, you can stay out without me while I sail with Dean, but don’t go beyond the striped cans, and don’t go alone until I’ve been out with you. I need to be able to concentrate on helping the others get started and I can’t do that if I’m also keeping an eye on you. I’m responsible for keeping you all safe so don’t make it difficult for me. OK?”

  Patrick shrugged. “Sure”, he said. He was sure Jerry didn’t need to keep an eye on him, but arguing would just slow things down even more. When he was sailing, he could show Jerry then. Jerry positioned the boat in the water, but close to the beach.

  “Come on then, Susan,” he invited. “In you hop, and sit on that side up the front. That’s it, just behind the mast”.

  With teeth chattering, Susan did as she was told, and looked for things to hang onto if she needed it. Jerry gave the boat a gentle push and jumped in at the back as the boat set off towards the ripples. Like magic, the sail became quiet and spread itself into a graceful curve. That was much better. The wind puffed in Susan’s ear, and the boat picked up speed and dipped its side a little, as if bowing to the sea. Susan managed to stifle a squeak as the water lapped nearer, and then as Jerry moved the sail, went away again. Jerry gave her a grin.

  “In a minute, I’m going to let you steer, so this is how you do it,”

  Susan listened carefully, and forgot to be afraid of the water lapping cheerfully along the sides of the boat. “To steer straight, just keep the tiller (that’s this stick thing) pointing down the middle of the boat. If you look where you are going, you can easily see if it is in the right place”. Susan nodded. “If you want to turn to the right, the tiller goes to the left”, Jerry gave a demonstration. “If you want to turn to the left, the tiller goes to the right”. Again the boat made a graceful curve. “OK, your turn”.

  Jerry was almost too big for the little boat as they wriggled about to change places.

  “I’ll keep hold of the rope which controls the sail, to start with”, he promised. “We’ll let you hold it once you are happy with the steering. Now, look forward, so that you can see where you are going and gently push the tiller away from you”.

  Susan did as she was told and gasped as the boat obediently turned.

  “That’s it. Now go straight again”.

  The instruction continued, and then Jerry handed over the “sheet” or rope that controls the sail and explained how that worked, and before she knew it, she was sailing. Turning around seemed a bit complicated, but Jerry talked her through it and the water stayed on the right side of the boat (the outside). Susan returned to the shore with a radiant smile. First out and no mishaps. Sailing was still a bit scary, but great fun and she could hardly wait for her next turn afloat. Maureen took her place as Susan splashed ashore and the boat shot out again across the bay, wiggled a bit awry and then turned and soared back to the beach with Maureen whooping with joy. Ross was in before Maureen had paddled ashore.

  “OK. You’re steering with this, and this rope controls the sail”, Jerry instructed. The boat was already moving and Ross could feel the tug of the tiller and the pull of the rope as the wind tried to blow his sail away. The boat was alive, and playing like an exuberant puppy on its first walk, tugging on his lead and trying to go in all directions.

  “To turn the boat,” Jerry was saying, “Either pull or push the tiller.” His hand came out to guide Ross as he spoke. “Always, in a strong wind, be gentle. Now, look where you are going and steer for that can over there, by the blue yacht. You’ll need to pull the tiller towards you a bit, first”.

  As Ross turned, the sail that had been flapping at its front edge, bulged with a snap and the boat flew. Ross gasped. The skiing had been slow. This was fast. The water was rushing by only centimetres from where he sat on the side of the boat, with Jerry squashed up in front of him.

  “Things you need to know. If the boat tips, like this”, Jerry moved his foot and Ross gasped as the boat fell away and lifted him high in the air, “Let the sail out a BIT and it will come flat again”, and, like magic, it did.

  “You must always sit opposite the sail, so when we turn around, you will have to swap sides. I’ll tell you how. To go faster, the sail should be let out (eased) as far as it will go without flapping even just the tiniest bit. OK. We’ll turn around now and on the way back we’ll practise easing and pulling in the sail. Follow my instructions and don’t rush”.

  Ross nodded, his jaw clenched. The tack (or turn) was easy with Jerry talking him through it. Flying back to the others, the boat wriggled as badly as Maureen’s had, and only some of it was on purpose as Ross practised pulling the sail in without using his feet or his teeth, which Jerry said was cheating, and anyway tasted horrible.

  “Don’t worry, “Jerry said. “We’re all going to practise that, and tacking on the shore in a minute. I just wanted you all to have a feel of real sailing before we concentrate on perfection”.

  The beach was coming up faster than a train. Ross wondered where the brakes were. Reading his mind, Jerry chuckled. “Remember. A boat pointing into the wind, with the sail eased stops. Just push the tiller away when I say, and let the rope go”.

  Ross almost fell out as the boat obeyed his signals, slowed and stopped. With trembling legs and a grin as wide as Maureen’s and Susan’s, Ross paddled ashore. Jack never wriggled at all, but took long graceful swoops instead. Patrick wiggled lots, but you could see he was doing it on purpose as he moved the sail in perfect time, with never a flap and a great deal of speed. When he came back, Dean scrambled aboard, and Patrick set up one of the other boats and sailed off on his own, while Jack and Ross watched enviously. Maureen and Susan were watching Dean. He was not a natural born sailor. He was wiggling as much as Patrick had but without the synchronised sail movements, and the boat tipped angrily at his rough treatment, almost as if it was trying to throw Dean off. Susan gasped and Maureen’s hand went to her mouth as Dean almost slid off the side, but Jerry was still grinning as he corrected things.

  “Have another try, but remember, GENTLY”, Jerry’s voice drifted over the water to the watchers on the shore. Dean gradually got better and eventually returned after nearly managing a complete circle on the way back.

  “As good as my archery”, muttered Jack cheerfully and felt slightly better about his morning’s efforts – no one can be good at everything. Jerry let Patrick sail on while the novices learned about how a sail makes a boat go and something called the “No Go Zone” which boats can’t sail into.

  “Do they sink in it, then?” Dean asked.

  “No they stop or go backwards,” Jerry replied. ”Imagine a box with the wind blowing across
the diagonal corners. To stay out of the no go zone, you have to sail along the sides of the box. If you try to sail into the box, straight towards the wind, you will be in the no go zone and the sail will flap and the boat will slow down and stop. If you don’t turn to steer along the side of the box, you start going backwards.” He looked around the group to make sure they understood. “OK, I’m going to pair you up now for company and I want you to sail to the yellow buoy over there”, he pointed,” tack around and sail back to the beach, swap places so you each get a turn at steering and have another go. Jack with Dean, Maureen with Ross, Susan with Patrick. If things don’t go to plan, let go of everything and sit tight, and I’ll come and give you a hand”.

  ROSS’S REMINDER DRAWING (note “ a capsize” is when the boat tips over completely onto its side)

  CHAPTER 6

  For the beginners, things were not so easy without Jerry aboard, telling them what to do. Maureen’s eyes were enormous and her knuckles white as the wind puffed and the boat began to tip. She had no control as Ross held the tiller and rope. She sat as far away from the water as she could and hung on tight. The water was lapping over the deck and still Ross clung determinedly to rope and tiller, although he, too, was now staring wide eyed at the advancing water. At last, as the water no longer lapped, but flooded aboard, it was too much for Maureen.

  “Let go”, Maureen screamed. Snapping out of his trance, Ross did exactly what he was told and let go of the rope and the tiller completely. The boat stopped tipping and fell almost on top of them, whilst spinning around, and the sail snatched and flapped ominously above their heads. Maureen dived for the middle of the boat.

  “Not that much,” Maureen said disgustedly, wondering what she was doing out in a boat with this dopey boy. Trying to regain his pride, Ross grabbed at the tiller and pulled. Not much happened.