The first punts on our river—the Medway—were simply flat-bottomed shoe-shaped boats, which were built to slide over the mud, and were principally used by muddies and watermen, or by those people who, having boats anchored off the shore, required something they could push over the intervening flat. With a wind astern or on a slight incline in the mud, the slipping process was simple, the happy owner of one of these primitive punts finding himself on the river with but little trouble. A friend of ours at Gillingham determined to build himself one in his own dining-room to use for rowing, and being of an ingenious turn of mind, as he had to pull the punt up into his garden every time she was used, he added a detachable wheel under the bow, and then by fixing her oars on either side of the gunwale as handles, he was able to wheel her up and down the causeway with the greatest ease. This friend had long since found out that the Gillingham boy, boats, and mud did not agree. He it was who first saw the possibility of the punt being turned into a sailing boat, and when this idea occurred to him he started building the Snowflake, an ordinary mud punt with square chime, a centre plate and lug, which in its turn gave place to another named Crystabel. A small club was then thought of, for the purpose of opening up the healthy enjoyment of punt racing to the working class, and it was soon formed and my husband invited to become Commodore. A small subscription of half-a-crown, and a shilling entrance fee, made it possible for the working man to enter, and most races were arranged to suit his convenience. The money was paid to the officer of the day before the start, and only by the boats competing.

Punts in those days only cost from £4 to £5, and we soon had several. Our eldest son was promised a boat as soon as he could swim, which hurried matters, and a new punt was laid down, finished and christened Nelson before the summer was out, but this, as well as all the earlier ones, leaked. Then a real start was made. My husband being fired with the idea of improving [Pg 69]
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[Pg 71]the breed, began cutting out and drawing many models preparatory to building. The greenhouse was found to be the only place long enough, so the boat throve though the flowers faded, the pots grew chips and copper tacks to the despair of the gardener, and we had no show of flowers that winter. In the early spring, the new creation was taken into the little wood close at hand, and there with the sweet primroses and bluebells growing all round her was turned bottom up for all who were interested to come and sand-paper her whenever there was a "spell oh" in the course of the day's work. She was then finished off with a scarlet coat, and carried on the shoulders of four men in procession to the beach, where the christening ceremony was to be performed. At the moment, the family being full of Lear's Nonsense Songs and Stories, the little girl insisted she must have lavender water tinged with pink. So this of course was supplied. The boys ran up flags and hurrahed enough for the launching of a first-class cruiser, the men gave a big shove, and the little girl broke her bottle, calling out good luck to Scarlet Runner. This punt never leaked a drop, and sailed splendidly for her size, though unlike the accommodating bicycle of a well-known song, she would not hold two, and in a sea little but a man, mast and sail could be seen. At this time bigger punts were built, principally by Mr. Baker, a fruit-grower of Gillingham, who introduced a stronger, larger type with much higher freeboard. From his little yard were launched Tar Baby, Go By, Satan, and lastly Black Bess, which held her own against all comers. The blacksmith also built Ethel and Mud Puppy, so that altogether there was a nice little class. Scarlet Runner, after several alterations, ultimately beat Black Bess. Then came a decision to sail under Y.R.A. rules, and bring the boats up to half-rating. This in most cases meant building afresh, so once more Commodore started chipping bits of nice soft wood, till the desired shape for the new punt to hold two was arrived at. We then hunted for a building shed, and at last settled on a loft over the stables, a nasty draughty place, but one with plenty of room. The punt was drawn out life size on the floor in chalk, and five nice fir planks were procured from the village carpenter for the bottom. The centre plank was one inch thick, and the two on either side three-quarter; a grown oak knee formed the stem, and another the stern post, and to these a strong rope was fastened to make into a tourniquet to give the proper rocker to the bottom. Every day as it grew dusk, off we all went to that horrid cold loft, lit up the lamps and started an abominable din of hammering, a boy generally buzzing round the while with a broom to clear away some of the chips. When I grew tired of crouching and holding a hammer to the rivets, then the boy was victimised. The wheelwright came to lend a hand in the evenings, and envy seized my soul as I watched him send home screw after screw as if they were going into so much butter. Commodore would not even leave his work to come in to dinner, and looking back now, I really think it must have been a very uncomfortable time. The sides were made out of one wide plank of Kauri pine without a join. This was riveted to the beams and angles of Bull metal, and a devoted friend put in the mast step, which to this day holds all the water it catches, sending up a spirt as the mast drops into place. The centre board case gave a good deal of trouble, but even this gave way to patience. The seams were gone over with the greatest care with putty and varnish, as we were determined she should not leak, and the mixture proved most satisfactory, as whatever water the punt shipped ran out of the centre board case, and never a drop came through the seams. I was greatly distressed when the well was put in. I really could not see how I could be expected to sit in any comfort on a butcher's tray, which it resembled. The idea in itself no doubt was lovely, for any water coming on board emptied itself out of the tray, which was flush with the top of the centre-board case, down the case, thus making the boat absolutely unsinkable. But fancy sitting for hours with one's knees up to one's chin in a calm. I argued for a long time, and was made to sit in position over and over again, my husband declaring it was quite comfortable, but I could not see it. I agreed, however, to waive the question till the punt should be afloat. So a light deck was put on her, with canvas strained and painted over it, and then she was turned bottom up on the tressels, and Commodore planed, whittled and sand-papered till every line was beautifully fair. The rudder was shipped on to the transom on the curved Bull metal gudgeons, so that if it touched the bottom it slid up the gudgeons without coming off. It could also be triced up with a line when sailing in shallow water.

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At last came the happy day for launching, when a cart was brought up from the farm filled with straw, and pulled up close under the door of the loft, the punt being lowered away carefully on the top. In procession we followed down the old road to the brickfields, the little girl[1] bringing up the rear in her chair. When the cart had been backed as close down the river as possible, Sweet Pet dashed her bottle of wine against the boat's side, and with a little excited shriek, called out good luck to Sea Maiden, as the punt plunged into the water.

That same evening, Sea Maiden's sail plan was calculated, and drawn out. We have very strong ideas of our own on the sit of a sail, and had proved by many experiments that a sail that sits dead flat is a mistake, but to make sure, we made one more trial with a lot of little paper vanes stuck on pins, and setting our sail, pinned these right across, shifting them time after time as we sailed about. Then we came to the conclusion that there should be a fairly flat after-leach curving very gradually to the luff, and that seams carried across the sail in the direction of the wind, caused less deflection than the usual seams up and down. Now the carpet was rolled up in the drawing-room, and our union silk cut and ruled with the greatest care, each seam with half-an-inch curve towards the luff over-lapping to form pockets for the light ash battens, and a nice round after-leach and foot. Then came the machining, which was simple enough, and fell to my lot, and in time the sail was bundled up and sent off to be roped, with strict injunctions that it was to be sewn loosely to the rope, especially the luff. When it came home it was set between a tree and a fence, where through the early spring it flapped gently up and down whenever there was a light breeze, stretching and improving itself in the sun. Sailing was then started in real earnest, so that we might learn the ways of the boat, and get all the gear to work with the least amount of trouble, before the racing came on. Our balance-jib looked after itself, being laced to a light ash boom. In going to windward the sheet was always fast, and when off the wind it could be goosewinged in a second by letting the sheet run, and pulling on the lee-guy, so that what little we lost in the size of the sail was counteracted by the speed with which we could handle it.

That butcher's tray was uncomfortable, and [Pg 79]
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[Pg 81]there was not a thing in the boat I could lay hold of to keep myself on board. Only those who have sailed punts can imagine the rapidity of their movements, and my first attempts were certainly exciting, as only having the tiller to hold on to, which naturally was not of much use, it came over with me. I several times nearly went backwards into the river. After this, Commodore cut a square out of the well, so that my feet could just fit down, and framed it in with water-tight canvass, and so altered matters that my real joy in sailing began. The feeling of being run away with in a boat is glorious, and a good punt is hard to beat at this. The excitement keeps you in a glow, though the water breaks all round and over you. The first race in which I steered we won, and then began a record on our own river. Punt after punt was built to beat us, but still Sea Maiden came in first. Emboldened by our wins, we took her round to the Thames to try her against the half-raters. Our first race was over the circular course off the Royal Corinthian Club, at Erith, in a very strong wind. As we stepped on board the Sea Maiden, the waterman, from a little grey steamer that was being repaired, begged us to be careful, as it was blowing very hard and we should find more sea on the other side. Mr. Hope thinking Lotus' mainsail too big for her, hoisted one belonging to a dinghy, the other boats starting closely reefed. Lotus led the first round, with Sea Maiden a close second, but the wind gradually lightening, Lotus increased her lead. We saw it was absolutely necessary to shake out our reefs, which we dared not do whilst close-hauled, so we could only wait impatiently as the stern of the leading boat grew smaller and smaller. At last we got round the buoy, and out came our reefs in a minute. The effect was magical, and we ran up to Lotus hand over hand, till by the time we reached Crayford Ness mark we were close astern. Mr. Hope could not stand this, so began shaking out his reefs, but we now had a turn to windward and at once passed him, and throughout the remainder of the race kept the lead. The boat was looked at with great curiosity as we came alongside the causeway. She was called a "Thing," an "Eggbox," and other uncomplimentary names, but all agreed that she could go in a breeze.

Next day was almost a perfect calm. A racing tide was running down the wind to Greenhithe, and we were all mortally afraid of being drifted [Pg 83]
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[Pg 85]over the line before gun-fire. Nevertheless, we thought it best to risk it, and consequently stood away close hauled right into the middle of the stream, the other boats meanwhile keeping in a little eddy close to the shore. When the gun did go they were over the line long before us, but we were in the middle of a swinging tide which swept us away at four miles an hour, whilst the others were all trying to work out of their little slack. On reaching Greenhithe we found we had left our instructions behind, and could not remember on which hand to leave the buoy, so to make no mistakes rounded first to port and then to starboard. Unfortunately Lotus came in sight as we rounded the wrong way, and having also left her instructions behind was led astray. Our very light draught enabled us to skirt the mud out of the tide all the way back, and brought us in first again with a very long lead. Our third race was sailed in a moderate breeze which fell to almost a dead calm at the last. Lotus led for the three rounds of the circular course, and do what we would it seemed impossible to pass her; however, at the very last, a stretch of strong tide had to be crossed to reach the line, Lotus left the slack first, sailing straight for the mark. Seeing it was our last chance we kept away in the slack much further down, then started across keeping the line on our weather beam and the tide on the lee-bow, we slowly drifted crab-wise across the broad stretch of river. It was a moment of intense excitement, the wind had died down to a mere breath and a crowd of tugs, huge steamers and drifting barges were coming up with the tide, we had to pick our way through these as we both converged towards the bobbing flag-boat. Lotus, seeing her mistake, set a spinnaker and tried to stem the tide, but it was too late, and again Sea Maiden took first gun, and the Muriel Challenge cup for the best of three races.

The punt went on winning after this, till we were afraid of being disliked on our own river, so put her in a railway truck and took her down to the Solent, where the storm drum was up and a sou'wester blowing in heavy squalls. As we started across from Portsmouth Harbour, we reefed down small, for the sea was the biggest I had ever sailed the boat in, the waves breaking completely over us, filling my bucket and drenching us both to the skin. A strong tide too was running to windward, but we got into the shelter of Wooton Creek in a very short time, and were most hospitably received in the Canoe camp and dried bit by bit. Our first race on the Solent was at Ryde, for the hundred-guinea cup, presented by Mr. West. And here we met our old enemy, Lotus, which had been doing wonders against the Isle of Wight craft.

Unfortunately, Mr. Hope exclaimed as we came up, "Hullo, Mrs. Wyllie, I think the race lies between the Thames and the Medway today." Now this was most unlucky, as we have always found that wherever any bragging is done we are sure to lose; and so it proved. Keeping an eye on the time ball on Ryde Pier, Sea Maiden was first over the line, the wind was terribly light with a nasty bobbly swell which seemed to knock the life out of her. The boats with heavy lead keels went through it better than she did, and it was not long before we were passed. After rounding the Stourbridge it was a close pinch to Gillicker point, with the tide racing out and the sun blazing and dazzling one's eyes with its reflection in the oily heaving water. It was a weary time, and as we became mixed with the lagging members of the large fleet of one-raters which had started before us, our chances for that day were lost. It took the best part of a day to sail the one round. The Thames and Medway were not in it, Sea Maiden finishing an inglorious seventh.

Next day there was a little more wind, and Lotus came in a very good first, Sea Maiden second, and Wee Winn third. The moment the race was over, the helm was put up and we ran across to Portsmouth hard, and in two hours from the finish, the boat was safely placed on the truck that was to take her to Burnham-on-Crouch, where we were to do some racing, and where Lotus took first each time. There we had a week of first-class sport, some of the races being very exciting, one especially so, for there was a long run in a heavy sea, ending up in a jibe round the buoy which some did, and some did not do. It was a breathless moment as the boom came over and we careered away at a tremendous pace, the boat rocking wildly from side to side, and the waters seething all round and over us. Suddenly I found I had no grip on the helm, the rudder having floated up on our following wave. She broached to at once, and though, thanks to Commodore's prompt letting go of the sheet, we managed to save a capsize, it was a close thing.

That year we sailed twenty-seven races, winning fifteen firsts, six seconds, and two thirds, and ending the season on the Medway with a series of matches in which we all changed boats and crews. It was on a lovely autumn afternoon that we anchored our barge yacht under the wood as committee boat, with tea, something stronger, dry clothes, and a party of friends on board. In every case and with every crew Sea Maiden came in first, till we persuaded Lord Charles Beresford to sail his Undaunted with our sail, when she at once turned the tables. Next year there were a number of new punts built, namely: Mosquito, Star Fish, Water Lily, Princess May, and Tartar. The Royal Engineers, too, built the Terrible and Powerful, sister ships, with long overhanging sterns, and Captain Mareney, R.E., with his own hands built BÉbÉ, which has proved the fastest of her class. In a strong wind the BÉbÉ's speed is something quite phenomenal, and one race she sailed in a hard gale, surprised everyone who saw her. Mr. G. C. Kerr's punt, L'EspÉrance, besides being good-looking, sails very fast; and on one occasion, in a light wind, beat the seventeen-ton, Buccaneer, in a race to Sheerness and back, without time allowance. Owing to the drawing of our punt, which appeared in the Field, there have been many imitations of our flat-bottomed class started in different parts of the world. The Puffins at Plymouth, a little fleet at Weymouth, the new class at Southampton, and individual boats in Scotland, Northumberland, Anglesea, Florida, and even distant Hong Kong. There was a rumour that a challenger for the Seawanhaka Cup should take the shape of a long flat punt, and for this purpose a drawing was made by one of our most celebrated designers, but the Canadian holders of the cup have accepted the American challenge, instead of that of the Minima Yacht Club, so, this spring, the sound of the hammer will not be heard in our loft.

M. A. Wyllie.

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