25 JUNE 1954, Page 7

There— The fore-guy on the spinnaker-boom gave as we bore

down on the buoy that marked the finish; the boom shot up the port fore-stay and the great russet sail billowed out at an angle as unnatural an arresting as Count Dracula's cloak when he glided head foremost down the wall of his Transylvanian castle. The " crew " (I am sure Portcullis Pursuivant will agree that we deserve the form a diplomatic immunity which inverted commas confer) was ordered forward, and, under an unusually vehement rain-storm, provided enough halyard-fodder for an expert to restore a situation which might have been awkward in those narrow waters. It turned out that we had won the race; the peacocks on Brownsea Island offered sardonic applause as we took up our moorings in its lee.