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Francis Drake's Story! :-

Chapter VIII: Castles In the Sand!

By this time it had become clear to Papa and Walt that Francis was showing more than a keen interest in and aptitude for sailing, and Walt offered to give him extra tuition in the skills. Francis was an excellent student and quickly picked up a taste for all things about the sea, ships and sailing. He listened avidly to Walt's explanations about maps, winds, tides; and about the open sea, ocean, rivers and coastal areas.

"Keep your eyes and ears open, and learn the sights and sounds of your ship", Walt told him. "Listen to the songs of the breeze in the sails and the rigging; sometimes it can become a full symphony. Listen to the music of the waves lapping against your bows and running under the keel. Use your masts and shadows in the way you would use a sun-dial to keep time or help to gauge direction. Keep a wary eye on the trim of the ship - how she lies (or sits) in the water", urged Walt. "Balance the distribution of your cargoes, armaments and ballast throughout the vessel. It will significantly affect your sailing efficiency; and one day may mean the difference between life and death".

Francis was completely gob-smacked when Walt explained about the Sun, Moon, stars and planets, their courses in the firmament, and how they influenced the tides, winds and ocean currents. There was so much fascinating new material to learn. 'But why should one be termed a heretic and hanged or burned at the stake if he (or she) asked questions about all these marvellous things', he pondered? 

In the quiet of the evening they all listened avidly to Adam's tales about his escape from the Inquisition. How eventually he had thought his family to be settled and safe in this marvellous land called England. How they had learned the skills and tasks of farming and eventually acquired their own small farm in Cornwall. Then came the devastation of the rebellion. Whilst Adam was away, selling his goods in Falmouth market his family had all been murdered. He was forcefully told that this was the penalty for being Jewish immigrants, even though they had converted to Christianity and regularly attended Mass.

At first Adam sought revenge. But he could obtain no information about the murderers from neighbours and friends, terrified for their own safety. After continuous personal threats and harassment he was forced to flee for his own life. Following an exhausting and constantly threatened journey on foot through the rough terrain of moor and coastal paths he was relieved and delighted to join the ship's company across the Tamar in Plymouth.

As our ship approached the neck of the Channel called the Strait of Dover, Walt started to explain to Francis the dangers involved in navigating the sandbanks called the Goodwin Sands. "Even though we shan't be passing through them on this trip", said Walt, "we'll discuss the problems and solutions now. It will always come in useful later".

They climbed to the Crow's Nest to get a good sighting of the infamous sandbanks in the middle-distance off their port side. Francis perceived the surging waters breaking on the sands and asked Walt about the curious castles he could see. "Those aren't castles lad", he cautioned, "they are the hulks of shipwrecked vessels caught in the trap". As they continued to sail away from the sands Walt explained a number of tricks of the trade about sailing in treacherous coastal waters. "These dangerous sandbanks off the east coast of Kent, shielding the Down roadstead, make anchorage a tricky business, and lure many unwary ships to their doom", he said. "Although there are buoys and markers, they aren't very reliable and . . ." At that moment a shout from Sam, aloft in the mizzen lookout post, warned the captain of a storm approaching from the South-east. 

Walt immediately swivelled in the masthead to see for himself. "It's a big one", he yelled. He then barked instructions to alter course in order to run before the approaching storm, and directed sails to be reefed to the minimum that maintained navigation. All hatches were battened down, all movable items secured and cleared from the deck, and all cookers in the galley and candles round the ship were extinguished to limit the risk of fire. We then braced ourselves and waited with bated breath for the storm to reach us.

The storm struck with the venom of a hurricane, and soon had us struggling for our very lives. The sky, punctuated with lightning flashes and ominous rumbles of thunder, darkened as though it were night. And the waves reached mammoth proportions. We ran before the gale - compelled to heave her to - for what seemed hours; the wind screeching in the rigging and the vessel bucking and groaning like a sick animal. 

Amid the cacophony of noise, a different sound invaded our ears. The distant ominous sucking and thundering of the submerged sandbanks suddenly struck fear into all our hearts. We were at the mercy of the storm, which seemed to be driving us inexorably towards this sailors' nightmare. Louder and louder grew the menacing threat. Walt reduced all sail and personally took over the tiller with the help of Adam and two more strong men. They strained and heaved to try and achieve a diverging course.

Just then there was a deafening crash as a particularly heavy squall hit the ship broadside. There was a scream from above, as the top of the mizzen mast and a main spar snapped under the strain and threatened to capsize the ship as it swung on the sodden torn rigging towards the starboard side of the vessel. This had the effect of forcing the ship nearer to the sinister seemingly-luring Sands. 

It was then that we noticed Sam caught up in the flailing ropes which had entwined themselves round his body as he was torn from his lookout post. Like lightening Adam seized an axe and scrambled up the rigging towards Sam. He cut the boy loose with his knife and sent him down to the safety of the deck below.

Adam then used all his considerable strength in the howling gale to hack away with the axe at the offending ropes that held the broken mast and spar. It was a Herculean task but eventually all the ropes were cut save one. Adam chose his moment to sever this as the stricken ship rolled towards starboard. The damaged poles with their torn, waterlogged and tangled ropes dropped clear of the deck and into the raging waters. In that split second a trailing rope lashed itself around Adam's leg and wrenched him from his precarious perch, dragging him down towards the dark, surging, fuming waters below.

The task of steering the badly damaged ship away from the sandbanks proved to be almost impossible, and the ever-approaching sound of the lethal surf grew deafening. But then fickle Mother Nature took it upon herself to alter the direction of the wind two points to the north. With tremendous relief we gradually, unbelievably, heard the deadly sound retreating down our starboard side as we slowly but surely drew away from the lethal sands.

We continued to run headlong before the fury of the gale down the channel; back the way we came. It was at this point that Sam screamed for help, he had spotted Adam clinging to a broken spar on the ship's side, near to the water-line. Eager hands quickly clambered down and helped him back on board; then urged him to go below and get some soup to help his recovery. Adam was however, true to his name, adamant that his services were still needed. He rapidly resumed his place at the tiller, just as though he had never left it to attend to the emergencies of the endangered Sam and the snapped mast.

We limped along in mid-channel, holding our course but somewhat lost as the night wore on and the storm slowly abated. When dawn broke, Sam, back in his lookout post, called "land ho". It was with great relief that we saw a grey landmass looming up on our starboard beam. Gradually a church tower emerged out of the coastal mists, and our skipper exclaimed that we were approaching the English coast and he recognised the silhouette of the ancient port of Rye in Kent. Our ambition to sail to Calais was for the moment, of necessity, at least delayed and possibly even abandoned. The appearance that morning of Rye church tower looked heavenly in this - our hour of desperate need . . .!

Click the vessel's stern to make for safety in the exciting tale . . .

Francis Drake's Story! :-

Chapter IX: The Cinque Port!

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