Chapter 1 - A Surprise Present

It was the first full day of the summer holidays and Ruth and Peggy Blackett were downstairs for breakfast without being called. They were surprised to find their Uncle Jim sitting at the dining table having already started on a huge plate of bacon and eggs.

"Hello you two," he said looking up

"Hello Uncle Jim it's not like you to be here so early," said Ruth.

"Cheeky! Yes, I was up with the lark this morning and have been busy getting the launch ready."

"The launch? Where are you going?" asked Ruth.

"I've got an appointment in the village."

"Can we come?" piped up Peggy.

"Of course, in fact the trip is especially for you two."

"For us! What will we be doing?"

At this moment Mrs Blackett entered the room, "You'll find out soon enough. Until then it's a surprise. Now sit down and eat your breakfasts."

As they ate Ruth and Peggy tried their best to get their mother and uncle to reveal the surprise, but despite the persistent, probing questions the two grown-ups refused to tell them anything more.

After what seemed like an age to the girls breakfast was over and all four walked down to the old stone boathouse. The launch lay at her normal berth opposite the rowing boat. A faint smell of oil hung in the air as evidence of the preparations. While Uncle Jim busied himself with the complexities of starting the engine Ruth and Peggy untied the mooring lines and held them ready until the boat was ready to depart.

With a series of coughs and a cloud of blue smoke the engine started. Uncle Jim made some adjustments to the controls and it settled down to a steady putt-putt. "Stand by to let go!" he shouted. Then laughed as he saw how his order had been anticipated.

"I might have known you two would be ready. Alright, let go forrad, let go aft! Bear off! Gently Ruth!"

"Aren't you coming with us?" called Peggy when she realised her mother was still standing on the wooden landing stage.

"No, I've got a few things to do here. Now behave yourselves, and try not to get into mischief."

"As if we would," muttered Ruth. And both girls called their good byes across the widening gap.

Carefully Uncle Jim guided the boat out of the boathouse and into the river, then downstream past the humped shape of the promontory with its tall flagstaff and out of the river and into the lake.

"Who's going to steer first?" asked Uncle Jim.

Both girls immediately shouted "Me, me!"

"Alright, one at a time. Peggy can take the first watch, and Ruth can relieve her before we get to the islands."

Proudly Peggy took the small steering wheel and kept the launch heading across the lake towards the town on the opposite shore.

"There's a steamer coming and I think it will pass really close. What do I do?" asked Peggy with a slight note of anxiety in her voice.

"Can you remember the rules about what happens when two boats meet?"

"I can't remember, one of us gets out of the way. Do I because we're the smallest?"

"Not quite. Ruth, do you know?"

"We give way because the steamer is on our starboard side"

"That's right. Now which way will you turn?"

"To the right, I mean starboard," replied Peggy.

"Go on then, make it a good bold turn so the skipper knows what you're doing."

Peggy turned the wheel and the launch's bows obediently swung to starboard. "That's it, come round until you're on a course that will let us safely pass astern."

The three in the launch watched as the white painted steamer passed. The captain, high up in the wheelhouse, lifted a hand to acknowledge the smaller boat's action. Uncle Jim raised a hand in reply and Ruth waved cheerfully. Several of the steamer's passengers waved back as well. Peggy kept both hands firmly on the wheel knowing that in a moment they would be tossed about by the steamer's wash.

"A fair number for this time of day," observed Uncle Jim, "Hopefully it'll be a good season for visitors. There are plenty round here who could do with the business."

"Not too many I hope. So many of the visitors hire boats and then they can't row properly and zig-zag all over the place getting in the way," complained Ruth.

"I hope you're not rude to them," said her uncle.

"Of course not, and anyway, most of them don't go far from the bay."

"Good to hear that. Now Peggy, it's time to let Ruth take the helm."

Reluctantly Peggy let her older sister take the wheel. Ruth checked on what other craft were around and opened the throttle further, in hurry to get to whatever the surprise was. Her uncle immediately put it back to the original setting, explaining. "The extra power won't make you go much faster and just burns extra fuel. You'll have to be patient."

Ruth glared at him but left the throttle alone. She was sure she could handle the boat as well as anyone, and it annoyed her when she was not allowed to do things how she wanted. At least she and Peggy were trusted to take out the rowing boat without supervision and since the Easter holidays they were allowed to camp by themselves on what they called Wild Cat Island. This summer she and Peggy hoped they could camp on the island for a whole week without interference from the grown-ups.

Skilfully she guided the launch through the jumble of small islands that ringed the approaches to the town, giving a wide berth to the fishermen who sat in their boats ever hopeful of catching something larger than a perch.

"Where are we going? The public landing place?" asked Ruth.

"No, to the boatyard. Over by the big green sheds. It's a bit crowded there, best let me take over now."

Again Ruth gave a look that implied she thought she was more than capable of taking the launch to a berth in the yard, but relinquished the wheel and went forward to be ready with the painter.

Uncle Jim brought the launch alongside a wooden jetty at the boatyard. As the boat slid to a standstill he gave Ruth, who was now standing in the bows ready with the painter, a nod and she jumped ashore and took the rope through a convenient ringbolt before bringing it back to a cleat on the launch's foredeck.

"Good girl Ruth," said her uncle. "Make sure it's properly secure, we might be here a little while."

As Ruth was making fast the painter Peggy took the stern line ashore. When her sister had finished she hauled it tight and secured that too.

With the launch safely alongside the sisters looked expectantly at their uncle, who was busying himself under the canopy.

"Come on Uncle Jim, tell us why we're here, please," Ruth pleaded.

"You'll find out soon enough," he teased in reply.

Ruth almost stamped her foot in frustration. "Jiminy, what is it about grown-ups that makes them keep you waiting for everything?" she complained to Peggy.

Her sister just shrugged.

"I'm ready now," said Uncle Jim "Are you coming?"

"Of course!" they both chorused.

Ruth and Peggy followed their uncle through the yard, passing between boats held upright by props while men worked on them and another in a wheeled cradle at the top of the slipway ready to return to the water. A man dressed in paint-splattered dungarees appeared from the biggest shed.

"Morning Mr Turner!" he said.

"Good morning, Bob. Is everything ready?"

"Yes, all ready to go. Are these the lucky girls?"

"Yes, these are my nieces. This is Ruth, and this is Peggy, though I haven't told them why we're here yet," warned Uncle Jim.

The two girls each said good morning and shook hands.

"Pleased to meet you both. Well, follow me then," said the boat builder leading them to another landing stage in front of the smaller shed.

Alongside the wooden jetty were half a dozen or so small boats, mainly rowing boats like the one back in the Beckfoot boathouse.

"There you are then," said the boat builder, waving in the direction of the jetty, "She's all yours."

Ruth and Peggy looked around with confused looks on their faces.

Their uncle and the boat builder both laughed. After a few seconds Uncle Jim relented. He walked along the jetty. "This boat," he said, pointing to a varnished sailing dinghy lying at the far end, "Is yours."

"Jiminy!" exclaimed Ruth.

"What, really?" asked Peggy at the same time.

"Yes, really. She's all yours. She's a sort of combined birthday present because I was away for both your last birthdays, and your mother was pleased with your school reports. I spotted her a while back and thought it is time you two learned some real seamanship, not just splashing around in a rowing boat"

Ruth did not even rise to the bait of her uncle's comment. She only had eyes for the boat. "She looks beautiful," she said.

"Why don't you two have a good look at her while I settle things with Bob here. Then we can think of a sailing lesson to get know her."

As the two men walked back up to the office Ruth and Peggy stood at the end of landing stage and examined the dinghy in detail.

Like many of the small boats around the lake this one was varnished inside and out, giving the wood a deep golden hue. Set well forward was the mast, behind that was mounted a long narrow box.

"What's that for?" asked Peggy pointing.

"That will be for the centreboard," answered her sister knowledgably. You lower it down to make the boat more stable and help it to sail better. Like a keel on big boats."

Inside the boat lay the sail, the creamy white canvas neatly rolled around the spars and secured with an evenly spaced row of half hitches. Both girls stepped down and fingered the stiff material. "It feels brand new."

Suddenly Peggy exclaimed "Look at that!" and pointed to a small barrel sitting on chocks under the thwart just behind the mast. "Do you think we could use that for lemonade?"

"Grog!"

"Pardon?"

"Grog. Real sailors drink rum, or grog. Don't you remember? Uncle Jim told us how the Navy put water in their rum and called it grog after the Admiral who invented it."

"Are you sure? Grog's a funny name for an admiral."

"Well it was something like that, any way it will be great for when we go to Wild Cat Island." *

"Well, what do you think of her?" Uncle Jim's voice interrupted the conversation.

"Lovely", "Great" replied the girls simultaneously.

"Good. Let's get her rigged and we can have a practice sail. A spot more wind wouldn't come amiss, but this is better for learning than half a gale."

* Ruth was nearly right here. Diluted rum was called "grog" because it was introduced by Admiral Vernon, who was known as Old Grog because he wore a waterproof cloak made of grogram. (Jim Turner)