GREAT SEAMANSHIP
HEARING THE SHOUT ‘MAN OVERBOARD’ WITH A NOVICE CREW ON A SAIL TRAINING YACHT IS A HEART-STOPPING MOMENT FOR SKIPPER CHRIS PAYNE
Back around 1980 I was privileged to be involved with the Robert Clark-designed 72ft ketches operated by what was then called the Ocean Youth Club. My own contribution was as a relief skipper on the Solent-based Samuel Whitbread and the time I spent running the boat gave me great respect not only for the vessels themselves, but also for the permanent skippers, mates and bosuns. The size of the yachts and the ethos of the club were a perfect combination for sail training at its best.
One of the great names from those days was Chris Payne – ‘CJ’ to his shipmates – skipper of Francis Drake. CJ has made an enviable life on the water, skippering all manner of interesting craft over four decades. His book, When the Sea Calls, is an extraordinary collection of extended yarns from a man who really has been there and done it. To say it is well worth the reading is an understatement. In the extract below, he describes a classic ‘Man overboard’ incident on the Drake. This, of course, is every skipper’s nightmare, but the way CJ and his mates deal with the emergency is a prime example of how training and cool heads can defuse a potential horror show.
At the time of the incident we were at sea in one of the Ocean Youth Club’s 72ft Robert Clarkdesigned ketches, the Francis Drake. They are beautiful sea-boats, long and lean, very forgiving and able to soak up a lot of punishment, whether from the sea or the crew. OYC had had around a dozen of them over the years and they were universally loved and admired by professional staff and volunteers alike.
The day was bright rather than sunny, pleasantly warm and – since we were running downwind – the breeze seemed to be negligible. The boat, as usual when running, was rolling gently. The crew were enjoying their work, singing and joking as young people do, and surreptitiously trying to get the second mate wet when they thought he wasn’t looking. I was below in my cabin, making a start on the inevitable pile of paperwork, enjoying an extra cup of coffee because the galley cleaners needed lots of hot water and it seemed a shame to waste it. ‘MAN OVERBOARD!!’
Even to this day, I can still hear that shout and the immediate spine-chilling effect it had. At times of stress, the body and mind react in strange ways, and my first thought was, ‘But I haven’t thrown anything over the side!’ Asplit second later, realisation and conditioning took over and the enormity of those two simple words sank in. I have no recollection at all of having made the journey from my cabin to the cockpit. I was just suddenly at the wheel, simultaneously aware of everyone watching me and waiting. It is often said that at times like these, life goes into slow motion, and that’s how it
