Prologue - By Suzanne and Belinda Cornwell.
Dad was 23 when he made this trip in 1951. Two races and four thousand miles of ocean racing.
He went on to race seven Sydney to Hobart and three Sydney to New Caledonia (Noumea).
He was born and bred in Mosman, Sydney, sailing skiffs from when he was young.
Sailing became his passion and through the Royal Sydney Yacht Squadron, he competed all his life. my sister and I only found this account on Boxing Day 2010, deep in our family history box. We had no idea that we had it we think it's a great historical find. So, coming up to the 60th anniversary of this record win to Hobart and an inaugural race to Auckland we pay tribute to our father Ken this is his story, enjoy.
Suzanne and Belinda Cornwell, Sydney, 2nd of June 2011.
Figure 1 The Winning Crew - Hobart Mercury Photo
Sydney to Hobart yacht race 1951 - Ken Cornwell - Navigator
At 10:30 PM on Wednesday the 26th of December 1951, the 44
-foot yacht Margaret Rintoul dropped her moorings off the Royal Sydney yacht squadron, Kirribilli and proceeded under sails towards shark island, the starting point for the seventh Sydney to Hobart yacht race.
This was the moment the eight of us on board had worked and planned for in all our spare time for at least the past seven months.
The multitude of preparations, stores, sails, rigging, detailed meteorological and navigational information from as far as America, has been attended to. We had religiously ransacked the boat pushing out absolutely everything nonessential, thus reducing the weight and providing much-needed space for extra water tanks, sails, spare rope and a host of necessary odds and ends required for a long sea voyage. All our sheets and halyards were new as where most of the sails. on Christmas Eve "Maggie" was slipped to wax and polish the bottom and to remove the propeller, which if left on would cause considerable underwater drag.
Nothing then, that we could think of, was left to chance and we left as fully prepared as possible for anything that the weather gods could throw at us and with the boat in better racing shape than she has ever been.
The Sydney to Hobart ocean yacht race was inaugurated in 1945 by the Cruising Yacht Club of Australia. it was first intended as a Christmas cruise for yachts in the club, but a suggestion from Sydney yachtsman Peter Luke, it was decided to make a race of it. With the help of Captain John Illingworth, an experienced English racing skipper, the race was organised and at once became a great success. immediately firing public imagination. Illingworth himself easily won the first race in the small Rani.
As skippers and crew became more experienced and better types of offshore yachts appeared, the standard of racing rapidly improved and it now ranks as one of the 3 classics of this sport in the world.
So great is the fascination for ocean racing in all types of weather that skippers and crew all entirely amateur keep coming back for more despite the rough treatment. In Margaret Rintoul, we had five of the crew doing at least their third trip. The other three, although partaking in their first Hobart race were all experienced offshore racers.
This was the boats third trip. In 1949 after a great race, she was beaten for line honours by just over a min in 6 days and 680 miles of sailing. she made up for it in 1950 however, being the first boat home and second on handicap, after battling a series of gales.
This year we were out to better their performance if possible. it was a great day for the start of an ocean race for both starters and spectators. I liked northeasterly breeze and a sunny summer day combined to make conditions very pleasant and with a high barometer and a favourable forecast portends for a fair wind down the coast were good. The Harbour was cluttered with boats of all shapes sizes and pedigrees. Thousands of spectators lined the foreshores and the fourteen competitors jockeyed for a good position near the starting line.
The gun galvanised the crews into activity. Big headsails were broken out of their strops and sheeted in has the crews settled down for the windward beat to the Heads. We on Margaret Rintoul beat the gun at the start and were forced to re-cross the line thus finishing up near the tail end of the fleet. However, our good windward qualities rapidly retrieved the position and we passed out to their heads in second position, less than 100 yards behind the leader Struen Marie the ultimate winner of the race. After easing sheets for a run down the coast we quickly passed Struen Marie and with our running sails set, took a handy lead. However, we were soon challenged by many of the other yachts and during the afternoon the big schooner Pavana, sailing beautifully, passed us to seaward with every stitch of canvas set that she could pack on.
Towards dusk, we were still close to several boats and the leadership at this stage was being hotly disputed. We were to seaward of the rest of the fleet except for Fortuna, both of us slowly pegging back Pavana and the wind eased slightly and shifted further aft. By nightfall we were well settled down to the ship's routine and had a pleasant sail through flat seas during the hours of darkness, covering the ground of an average speed of 9 knots with the help of the southerly current which runs off the coast.
By 9 PM we had Point Perpendicular Light abeam. Occasionally we had a glimpse of our rivals as they floodlit their vessels to inspect and trim sails and gear. Evidence of our good progress was clear at dawn, a fix on the tall peak of Mount dromedary placing us 45 miles East of Montague island already 180 miles from the starting line with mere 460 miles to go.
There were still several boats in sight, although all were too far away to identify. it was in this respect that the two-way radios carried on most of the yachts as well as the news broadcasts were a great help, as they enabled us to know just where chief rivals are and gave us a good idea how we were faring in the race. At this stage we lying fourth with Fortuna, Parvana and Lass O'Luss slightly ahead. All the fleet, except for the tiny cutter Katwinchar, being within a radius of some 16 miles of one another.
Katwinchar, a very small 32-foot ketch, had already sailed 12,000 miles from England, arriving in Sydney with only a few weeks to recuperate before setting out on the trip to Hobart.
Sailing was still very pleasant with light northerly winds pushing us on our way. the boys relaxed in the sun swapped yarns, slept and discussed the progress of the race, always, however keeping an eagle eye on the behaviour of the helmsman and the set of the big spinnaker which was doing so much to tow us along. The Davis Cup tennis also, of course, received our keen attention via the hourly broadcast updates.
So, the day went on. During the afternoon we were in constant company with the school of dolphins. These graceful fish were a permanent source of fascination as they played beneath the bows and gave the impression that they were enjoying themselves as much as we were.
At 8 PM we dropped the New South Wales coast astern and headed into Bass Strait. The wind was still light in the north and Struen Marie was only 200 yards away rolling badly, occasionally dipping her spinnaker pole and main-boom in the seas. She must have been having an uncomfortable time of it.
Towards 10 o'clock, however, the wind increased and backed to the northwest and gave us a great sail across the Strait, the boat occasionally lifting to a squall and planing like a surf boat for short periods. steering in these conditions is never easy and the helmsman is seldom sorry to relinquish the tiller at the end of his trick. This is what we wanted as we were going on a course in fine style and in the Strait where everything can and frequently does happen, gales being very prevalent at this time of the year. Our chances in the race, unfortunately, were not being helped by the weather, as in these conditions it is impossible to get a handicap lead on the small fry, all of whom were revelling in the following breeze. The Pavana, we knew was close at hand and would take a lot of beating on sailing time if something didn't happen soon.
During the night or spinnaker decided to disintegrate in a squall and the boat was quickly alive with activity as it was lowered and stuffed in the ragbag, another being smartly hoisted in its place. Spinnakers are a cause of constant worry as they roll badly with the motion of the boat in the seaway and must be constantly watched to prevent them from chaffing on the forestays. The helmsman also has his work cut out to prevent this sail from spilling its wind and filling again with a bang that rattles the boat and the nerves of the watch below endeavouring to catch up on their beauty sleep.
By daylight, the wind has eased, and we are sailing slowly onwards. The noon sight placed us to the east of Flinders island which lies just north of Tasmania. We are two-thirds of the way to the finish. Fortuna was still in sight as we haven't been unable to shake this remarkable little yacht and we spent the day swapping first place. As the wind eased Fortuna would gain slowly on us but when it freshened, we would sail the faster and pull away. The sight of another boat adds real interest to the race and spurs the crew to greater effort to gain the upper hand.
During this period the wind backed further to the West and later to the South-West increasing in strength. We were well occupied in sail changing as the wind altered its moods. This is what we wanted however and we began to drop Fortuna astern in the freshening breeze and to take the lead clearly for the first time in the race. By nightfall the wind had increased further, forcing us to stow our big headsails and mizzen, but under reduced sail, Margaret Rintoul was still sailing very fast and gaining on the rest of the fleet. It was our first wet patch during the race. As Maggie ponds her bow into the seas the spray would fly over the decks and present anyone who ventured out from behind the spray hood improperly dressed with a free bath, not that we didn't all need one by now.
The sting soon went out of the wind and pleasant conditions again prevailed by breakfast time. Cooking and eating and aboard a yacht that is trying to stand on its ear, is always a perilous past time, some of the crew occasionally even losing their appetite for reasons best known to themselves. Good sailing weather, therefore, is always welcome.
A little after noon we sighted Tasmania taking a fix on the high peaks near the Freycinet Peninsula, halfway down the East Coast.
Spirits were now high as we realised that we still have a great chance of breaking the record for the race which was established by Sir Claude Ploughmans' big cutter Dloria 4 years earlier. but first we must stay in front and that's never a certainty for any yacht in the changing fortunes of ocean racing. All the afternoon we could just see the top of the mast of our closest rival Lass O'Luss.
As we sailed down the coast before the breeze which shifted during the day from South-East to East and later to North-East, we strained to keep the boat at maximum speed and must have presented a great sight to the Tasmanian aeroclub plane which flew out to greet us and gain news of the progress of the yachts. The wind once more started to increase and with every stitch of sail canvas that we could hoist, Margaret Rintoul really showed her stuff. Rapidly the Shouten Islands dropped astern as she raced towards Tasman island, the southernmost point of the course. This was really sailing; the boat was steady but difficult to steer with the sails gracefully blowing out in the wind as they drag the boat at great speed through rapidly increasing seas. By midnight we were abeam of Tasman island but could not yet see the light due to poor visibility.
Gybing a big boat during a blow at night is no picnic. With constant motion, the yacht often gives a sudden lurch, just as one is painfully struggling with two handfuls of thrashing sails surrounded by a tangle of sheets and all forms of impedimenta which go with sail changing. The unwary, therefore, is likely to be unceremoniously deposited among the debris on the deck just at the time when one has not even the spare eyebrow to hang on with. A fact which often causes the use of a certain amount of unfortunate language. Luckily this operation was soon accomplished and this time without undue trouble, albeit the roughly spoken word was given free rein as usual. We were soon speeding along our new course towards the light on Tasman island which soon made its welcome appearance glowing through the dark. The wind, fickle as usual, gave up the ghost and dawn found us completely becalmed off the impressive Cape Raoul, less than 30 miles from the finish. As we lay in this predicament, Lass O'Lass and Fortuna appeared in the distance around Tasman Island and were soon also floundering in the calm of storm bay. By 7 AM we picked up the smallest zephyr of wind from the northwest and slowly moved out of the calm patch. The wind increased and Margaret Rintoul again was racing down the Bay leaving our unfortunate rivals still becalmed in the distance. As we approached the Iron Pot lighthouse at the mouth of the Derwent River, the wind began to fade again and a mile up the river, with 10 miles to go it completely left us. There we were with more than 600 miles of good sailing behind us and with a record almost in the bag and the wind had to do a thing like this to us. Worst of all the other boats were coming into sight behind us, heeled over to a good breeze. That sail up the River was a nightmare. We would pick up a draught of wind and think we're on our way once more, then the breeze would leave us in the lurch again. Then come in from another direction five minutes or half an hour later and all the time Lass O'Luss was pegging us back. Still sailing to more favourable conditions. Here we were then slowly beating into a light variable headwind trying first one shore, then the other and finally the middle. Trying desperately to stay in front of the fleet. Finally, after rounding Battery Point and now only a quarter of a mile in the lead we picked up a light breeze which carried us just over the finish line. Those 6 hours taken to sail the last 10 miles of the race were really exasperating, however, we had come in first across and broken the race record, this would compensate for anything. We sailed the 680 miles in 98 and a half hours which was a record for any sailing vessel ever to sail from Sydney to Hobart a fact which we were duly proud of.
To break records the weather must be on your side and this we had, the race being possibly the easiest ever. A great contrast to the previous year which had taken us nearly ten days and been sailed in gale force wind on the bow for its entire length.
The victory was a triumph for our skipper Frank Barlow who had made the best of every opportunity. And of course, our owner Mr Edwards who was over the moon with his new record.
To understand a Hobart welcome, one must experience it. The entire population appears to turn out for the finish and as the gun is fired for the first boat across, pandemonium temporarily breaks loose. The noise of the welcome being almost overwhelming. It's at that moment I wouldn't have changed places with anyone else in the world. When we were towed into the cozy little Constitution dock in which all the Fleet would soon be moored but which is at the moment empty, we were immediately swamped by the welcoming committee, reporters, on-the-spot radio broadcasters. All the crew revelling in the temporary fame, assumed nonchalant airs, me included and we really put on an act for their benefit.
The boys soon repaired ashore for the much-needed ablutions, reappearing one by one looking positively immaculate in their shore rigs and settled down immediately to enjoy the well-known Hobart hospitality. The yachts were now coming in one by one Lass O'Luss, Struen Marie and Fortuna being the ones immediately following us. long before the entire fleet was reassembled, however, the result was known. The race went to the snappy little sloop Sturen Marie with Lahara second and Lass O'Luss Third. Margaret Rintoul with a heavy handicap and delays in the Derwent River was forced back into seventh position.
We spent 6 magnificent days in Hobart treating every day like New Year's Eve but that's quite another story. Several crew wandered on a trip throughout the island but I, having been twice before, confined myself to Hobart, filling in the daytime by flying with the local aero club and with other minor adventures around the dock.
Hobart to Auckland.
Preparations for the Trans-Tasman race to Auckland we're not very involved as we had done most of the necessary things before leaving Sydney. 2 days before our departure the boat was put on the slips to give the bottom another wax polish, fill water tanks and fresh stores, check the running rigging and sail overhaul and we were ready to go.
Although the Tasman race is held every year it is always in the past been between Sydney and Auckland starting from either port in alternate years. This is the first time the race started from Hobart, the course being longer than usual this time close to 1600 miles. As some of the New Zealand fleet had taken 3 weeks to reach Hobart in light variable winds, we were prepared for everything.
There were 6 competitors in the race apart from ourselves. Lahara, who has been placed second in the Sydney Hobart event and Kurrawa III veterans from the previous trans-Tasman and Los Angeles to Honolulu race. Lahara represented New Guinea and Kurrawa II was sailing under the colours of the Royal Melbourne Yacht Club. There were 3 NZ craft. The cutters Gesture and Bounty and the ketch Ladybird, all as yet, strangers to us.
At 10:30 AM on Saturday the 5th of January we are on our way. we got off to a good start in a light south-westerly breeze but had the misfortune to snag a big spinnaker on the bowsprit immediately after hoisting and it blew to shreds before we had travelled 60 yards of the way. Two days of sewing were later devoted to its rejuvenation, but it was never used in the race. Another sail was soon hoisted and we led the field down the Derwent in light variable winds. after clearing the Iron Pot, the winds freshened and the big Kurrawa took the lead revelling in the strong running weather which suited her so well. As the seas and wind increased Margaret Rintoul commenced to shoot the big rollers and gave us an exciting ride for some hours until the wind moderated. Our noon position placed us already nearly 200 miles from Hobart.
During the afternoon of the second day, the wind swung from the South, South-West to the South-East and later to the North-East, all the time decreasing in strength and causing numerous sail changes. Progress was slow and with a lumpy South-West sea running, conditions were not pleasant, the motion of the boat was, at times, violent. Occasionally I heard a noise on deck and looking up from the chart table would see an intrepid blue water yachtsman leaning over the rail apparently carefully studying the microscopic marine flora in which he had taken a sudden and unaccountable interest. Appetites soon reappeared in most cases, however.
Early on the third morning the falling barometer, ominous cloud formations and North-Easterly swell told us that we were in for a bit of a blow. By breakfast, the wind strength was up to 40 knots and increasing. We lowered our Jib and Mizzen and reefed the Mainsail under difficult conditions. The air being thick with spray the wind starting to blow the tops of the waves, it was soon obvious that we were still carrying too much sail in the rapidly deteriorating conditions. At noon we stowed the main completely and carried on under staysail alone. Traveling at a good speed despite the small sail area.
By 3 PM the wind strength had reached 75 knots the boat was continually deluged with spray although no solid water came aboard, Maggie was battened down with just the helmsman on deck well tucked under the spray hood to keep as dry as possible. Everything was getting wet below, water finds the tiniest flaws in a boat and in heavy going. The sight topside was a magnificent one. The air was thick with spray as huge spume-covered seas often with breaking crests would come hissing down on us. As each wave reached us Maggie would lift like a cork and sail sedately on as the wave passed underneath and roared away to be replaced by the next a few seconds later.
Then at 5.30 PM the wind suddenly left us, dropping in a matter of minutes to less than a few knots. We realised that we were in the eye of the storm.
The spectacle that presented itself was awe-inspiring. The boat was performing the most alarming gyrations as it was tossed around in this terrifically confused sea with great waves coming from all directions. Occasionally to would collide and disintegrate with a roar causing a spout of water to shoot skywards. It was remarkable, also to see a large comer, racing along with small waves, usually breaking, running across it in another direction.
To steady the boat and to attempt to get sailing again, we hoisted the Mainsail in the full knowledge that would have to be lowered as soon as we saw sign of reaching the other side of the calm patch or the storm passed over us.
We had been in the eye for two hours when a slight rise in the barometer indicated that we are reaching the other side. The mainsail was rapidly stowed and the wind roared in again, this time from the East-South-East and reaching cyclonic force within 15 minutes. This time the wind was accompanied by torrential rain and the temperature fell rapidly. That made it a very unpleasant night for the poor helmsmen.
The wind blew very hard throughout the next day but as the barometer slowly rose conditions began to improve. The seas flattened considerably and soon we were relatively comfortable once again.
During the next night, Margaret Rintoul fell off a freak wave with such an alarming crash that we thought for a moment she would fall to bits. However, a good sea boat such as we had will take almost anything and there was no damage. Some caulking let go forward during the pounding earlier causing an annoying leak which necessitated pumping twice a watch for the rest of the trip.
As the wind eased, we hoisted sails again one by one and by the morning of the fifth day, we were sailing steadily on our way through almost flat seas and beautiful sunny weather the first we had seen on this race.
Spirits rose rapidly with the improvement of the weather in the crew busy themselves with a large-scale dehydration program everything on the boat that was wet and movable, mattresses, clothes, sails and sail bags were dragged on deck to dry out and the boys convinced themselves again that this blue water sailing was marvelous after all.
For the next 600 miles, conditions were often idyllic warm by day and brilliantly moonlit nights as Maggie romped over the blue seas. eating and sleeping were favourite pastimes, most of the crew appearing to consider that they hadn't caught up in Hobart in the latter commodity.
We saw no steamers or planes being still well off the normal traffic lanes. Fish also were conspicuous by their absence. Albatrosses and seabirds abounded. One never gets tired of watching these graceful birds as they swoop and soar for hours over the waves, not moving their wings at all it seems for long periods. Occasionally they would hang in the slipstream of the Mainsail treating themselves to a free wide as we towed them along in our wake.
Our HF radio was a great asset as we were in daily contact with shore stations and with Kurrewa and Ladybird both of whom also carried radios. we were therefore fully informed on the relative progress of the 3 leading boats. At this time Kurrewa maintained a lead of 60 miles on us who in turn were 100 miles ahead of Ladybird. On the morning of the 10th day, we made landfall on the New Zealand coast.
Kurrewa we knew had rounded North Cape during the night and at the moment was becalmed some 50 miles ahead. Maggie was sailing to a steady South-East breeze and gaining rapidly on the leader, so we were on our mettle to keep her sailing flat out.
At 7 PM we rounded North Cape. The skipper turned cook for the occasion and served up one of his specialties which proved to be a real gastronomical delight. The plum pudding dessert, however, caused some breathing difficulties as it had been thoughtfully saturated with rum by the heavy-handed cook's offsider.
The sail down the New Zealand East coast that night was magnificent, with flat seas, a fresh offshore breeze with a nice big moon. This promised to be our last night at sea and all aboard enjoyed it, especially for that reason. To cap it all we were still catching Kurrewa but we knew that we would be lucky to beat her with only 100 miles to go. During the day we sailed steadily down the coast to a light South-Easterly breeze, picking our way through numerous off-lying islands while the crew made the boat ship shape for our arrival.
With only 20 miles to go, we heard that Kurrewa had crossed the finish line a very credible performance. The wind veered to the South-West and increased causing a short awkward chop in the sea which forced us to stow the big genoa and presented me with a ducking on the end of the bowsprit just when I thought I would get to Auckland nice and dry.
Just on nightfall, we picked up the Rangitoto Channel light in the distance and the welcome lights of Auckland in the background. Margaret Rintoul was now heeling to a fresh breeze and seeming to know that she was nearly at the end of her journey and so put on her best performance.
The last few miles work covered in fine style, we crossed the line at 11:31 PM, 10 days 13 and a half hours out of Hobart. All things considered, it had been a very fast and overall a thoroughly enjoyable trip but we're all glad to set foot on dry land again.
In the morning we received our customs and medical clearance and Maggie was towed to West Haven where she was to lie whilst we were in Auckland. At noon Ladybird and Lahara crossed in a thrilling finish within 5 minutes of each other to take first and second positions on handicap. Margaret Rintoul filled third place with which we were well pleased.
New Zealand hospitality was as expected, and we lacked for nothing. The usual round of parties and celebrations were assured. We were also taken by the New Zealand member of our crew on a tour of inspection visiting most of the long list of sights in the sightseeing line on the North Island.
Unfortunately, time as always was our master and after eight of the most enjoyable days I can remember. We were on our way once more. The yacht had been slipped in Auckland to enable us to antifoul the bottom replace the propeller for the cruise home. The leak in the bow being fixed and host of other items connected with sailing a boat over long distances was attended to.
We left Auckland sorrowfully on the 24th of January and cruised slowly up the coast in beautiful weather keeping well inshore to see you as much as possible.
Auckland and its surrounding coast is a yachtsman's paradise with a host of wonderful cruising grounds and anchorages within a day's sail of the city. On a Friday night, one can see a stream of yachts and motor launches disappearing around North Head as they make to their selected rendezvous for a weekend of enjoyment. we could have easily stayed here for six months.
On our first night, we stayed in Mansion House Bay on the beautiful island of Kawan thirty miles North of Auckland. The island is a very popular resort and invariably abounds with holidaymakers.
We left Kawan very regretfully. After a fast overnight sail, we reached Russell in the Bay of Islands. this beautiful spot is very appropriately named having some 135 islands several of which are really big rocks lying within it. We lingered here for two more days before commencing on long journey home via our next port of call, Lord Howe Island. The wind was very light and variable, so we resorted to the donk to push along at a steady 5 knots.
During the night a light breeze sprang up to add another two knots to our speed and five o clock on Monday morning we rounded North Cape and headed into a glassy Tasman sea.
For the first four days, we spent most of our time under power, blessing the engine which was so successfully pushing us on our way and cursing the lack of wind that made it necessary.
Occasionally a breeze would spring up for a few hours but as it was usually a headwind and it was less welcome than none at all. It was hard to believe at night when one saw the stars reflected in the sea that we were 400 miles into the mighty Tasman. We had certainly seen it in all its moods however we were no mad rush and not racing so the lack of wind was not a real worry so long as we have plenty of juice in the tank.
Conditions were ideally suited to eating and sun baking so when not at the tiller or trimming the sails the crew indulged in both, some real feasts being produced by the culinary experts on board among whose ranks I was not generally included.
Whistling for wind has always appeared to me to be a sure way of asking for trouble. Sure enough, on the morning of the fifth day, Friday, a breeze came in from the North-West. The Tasman never does things by halves however and by two in the afternoon we had a gale on our hands. The boat at times was pitching badly into a rapidly mounting head-sea. Spray began to fly once more and the battle to keep a dry seat on their trousers occupied the crew. As we're not racing, we could see no future in bashing the boat and ourselves about for the sake of a few more knots, so we bore away and hoisted the storm staysail and trysail. This blow lasted for 2 days and everything below was damp again, but we had asked for it.
On the sixth day at the height of the blow, we sailed through a school of whales. Although none were of more of gigantic portions, a playful slap from one of their tails would certainly have precipitated our departure to the hereafter for which none of us was madly anxious. It was therefore with considerable relief that we left them astern. During the evening the wind moderated to such a degree that we could have carried our mainsail with comfort, though as we were nearing Lord Howe and had no ambitions to run into it in the dark, so we continued plodding along slowly through the dark hours still under storm-sails. The wind increased temporarily at midnight and during a squall, I saw a perfect example of St elmo's fire, the tops of each mast appeared electrified as a ball of harmless blue light played about them and lit up the yacht like daylight.
By four in the morning, the wind died to nothing and left Margaret Rintoul rolling uncomfortably on the dying swell. The watch on deck impatiently waited for daylight and as the low cloud rolled away, the first real light of dawn short of showed us the high peaks of Lord Howe Island, shrouded in mist, dead ahead. After peaceful breakfast, the engine was started to cover the last 16 miles of the way. Below a great cleaning and tidying campaign was waged. Piles of clothing and sails coming up on deck for airing and drying. The crew set on a program of self-beautification ruthlessly demolishing luxuriant sets of whiskers and combing complaining mops of hair which hadn't seen such brutal treatment for a week.
We arrived off the entrance of the lagoon as a flying boat landed at the island. As soon as it departed again a launch came out to guide us through the reef. Moorings were lowered and as we came to rest in the crystal-clear water of the lagoon we were swamped with visitors. So began a very enjoyable and much too short a stay at this delightful spot. As in every place, we had visited, a hearty and generous welcome awaited us. People showered us with kindness, so, tearing ourselves away from the Lord Howe Island was a real effort. But all good things come to an end and at 2 PM on Tuesday the 5th of February and following great farewells, we lifted the anchor and motored out through the narrow entrance of the lagoon homeward bound.
The trip home to Sydney was uneventful. Immediately on clearing the island we picked up a light North-East breeze which freshened throughout the night, Maggie romped along in this pleasant weather for 2 days making very good time.
At midnight on the third day, the wind veered to the South-East but remained moderate. We rapidly closed to coast but visibility, due to a very bad smoke haze, was so low that we were less than 3 miles off before we even saw the coast. And half a mile off before we could check our position. Our landfall was made of Bondi and at 12:40 PM on the 8th of February, we entered the Sydney heads having sailed across 4000 miles of the ocean since last seeing them on Boxing Day.
Margaret Rintoul had proved herself a real sea-boat carrying us without trouble through all types of weather. she was easy to handle, fast and seaworthy under all conditions, beautiful and graceful to look at and a constant justifiable source of pride to her owner Austin Edwards and all who have the good fortune to sail in her.
The fact that we drove her hard all the way without any form of gear failure except of course for the inevitable torn spinnakers speaks volumes for this wonderful yacht, her owner Austin Edwards and skipper Frank Barlow and their attention to all the preparations necessary for such a trip and fitting her out for the race. a friend of mine once said you haven't got to be a maniac to go ocean racing, but it should be a help, this may be so but it certainly has its compensations.
Ken Cornwell, Sydney 1952
Photo Here: https://margaretrintoul.blogspot.com/2022/01/margaret-rintoul-leads-fleet-into-storm.html
Transcribed from the original with minor edits to aid clarification. Many thanks to the Cornwell family for this invaluable contribution. (Editor)
Editor's Note:
Navigators are generally the keepers of the "Log" on a sailing yacht. They are the only ones on board that have the time, responsibility, the necessary equipment and skillset (pencil, paper and brains) to make a recording of the events in near real-time. "Keeping the log" has long been and still is, the essence of navigation. It's the backup system used today to determine a vessel's position should the electronics fail. In the era of dead reckoning when Ken Cornwell's story is written, it was critical to the safety of the crew and the vessel. Remember that in 1951 there were no satellites orbiting the globe, no one had even dreamed of Global Positioning Systems that would display your position on a smartphone or wearable device like a watch, at the flick of your wrist.
In Jan 1951, knowing where you were at any time meant knowing where you had been an hour earlier and what direction and speed in what conditions the vessel had been sailing for the past hour. Record-keeping was a critical element of safe navigation. So the navigator kept the log, the official record of the voyage. Even the casual reader of Ken's story can see that he had access to the official ship's log when writing his account of the adventure. Indeed he may well have been in possession of the log itself. It was not uncommon for the navigator to view the log as his personal property moving with him from one vessel to another forming a record of his (working life). The "log" Ken would have left on board would have been a much more cryptic record of wind speed, boat speed, sea and cloud conditions and sail configuration with the odd note about unusual events during the voyage. Not very interesting reading at all... It was also not unusual for others onboard, Skipper, Mate, Helmsmen to keep a personal log or diary of a voyage. See -
PK June 2020 #
