EVERY MAN HIS OWN SKIPPER.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE " SPECTATOR."] SIR,—As your article under the above heading in the issue of the Spectator of January 21st includes me and my latest book in a sympathetic and most kindly criticism, may I be allowed to explain what appears to be an omission on my part in a book dealing mostly with single-handed cruising? I purposely avoided all detail as to my own work in handling ' Lady Harvey,' as I did in my series of Sailing Tours of long ago. I did put in quite enough, I thought, when I explained how I first came to realize that I could manage so large a boat (29 tons) quite alone, and how I practised off Althorne in the Crouch, and cleared out under very difficult circumstances from a tight place off Le Passage do St. Jean in the Landerneau River, at least so it seemed to me; but it is, of course, flattering to be told my readers want more. I have always disliked the suspicion of " posing" and suggesting even that I was doing anything out of the common. Of course, it is quite impossible to explain how I threaded all those shoals from the Colne to Burnham-on-Crouch, or why I looked up just in time to help avert utter shipwreck on the rock off Guthen-Bras or the Gilstone, or found my way safely into St. Mary's Pool and New Grimsby over the reefs, which dry out, connecting Samson with Tresco, Scilly Isles, as a perfect stranger unaided, except as I tried to account for it.
Perhaps the amazement of the Benodet pilot when he die- coversd 'Lady Harvey' at dawn anchored at the mouth of the Quimper River in a snug berth was as comic as anything I have yet met in the way of surprised professionals :—" Mais, mon Dieu! La Besse Jaime! " " How did you escape that? " He gasped as he realized that I must have passed pretty near it, seeing 1 had come in from outside the Ile de Groix on a straight run from Belle Ile, and, of course, had to thread the Glenn and Penfret Archipelagos lying off the mainland, opposite Concarneau.
The only answer was the fact that there I was. When I sat down to write this book I had lingering memories of Lavengro and An Inland Voyage. I presumptuously hoped to produce a Lavengro of the Sea. Indeed, one reviewer has, to my surprise, actually so styled it. At least, therefore, I succeeded beyond my dreams. Personal adventure was only the peg on which to hang chatty matter. Clearly that is not what my reviewers, who are obviously yachting men, want. They are good enough to ask for more. Well, I can give it. But it is quite impossible to explain everything. I have never done it satisfactorily for myself. And just here has been, and is, the greatest charm of lonely cruising to me. It is the mystery of so much. The certainty of the unseen and unknown. One necessarily becomes a Mystic and Fatalist.—Hoping you will forgive this rambling letter, I am, Sir, &c.,
FRANK COWPER
(Author of Cruising Sails and Yachting Tales). Ketch Yacht Ailsa,' R.F.Y.G., Hamble, Hants.
[To handle a twenty-nine tonner alone in bad weather is so remarkable a feat that we still hope Mr. Cowper will tell us in detail how it is done. The details would be an education to amateur yachtsmen. We suppose that Mr. Cowper has rigged various purchases. Mr. McMullen only once, we think, handled so large a vessel single-handed, and then it was to put to shame two lazy hands who had complained of being overworked.— ED. Spectator.]
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