Out again on Taikoo on a mates
training weekend in early
December. As it can happen at
that time of the year, the
weather was a treat. Very cold
but with only a few clouds
moving slowly in the light
breeze. We were heading up the
Clyde towards the Holy Loch.
Any wind that did blow
occasionally was on the nose so
we had been motoring. As we
turned into Holy Loch the
skipper informed us that these
were ideal conditions to
practise storm rigging. Waiting
until it was blowing hard was
not the time to start wondering
how to rig the storm sails, if
indeed they could be found. So
we duly got the storm jib out
and up and then the tri-sail was
rigged. Loose footed of
course. We discussed the points
to watch when setting them up in
adverse conditions. With Taikoo
being 73’ overall and 29 tons,
light winds and only wee storm
sails set didn’t do much for her
forward progress. We were
ghosting along, very slowly
coming abeam of the bridge of
the USS Hunley, mother-ship for
American nuclear submarines
based in Holy Loch.
There were two black, ominous,
steel cigars lying alongside
their maternal supply and repair
vessel,
As we looked up at the
Hunley’s bridge we noticed some
activity on the wing. A figure
with scrambled eggs on his cap
looked over at us, raised
binoculars and took a closer
look. He turned round and must
have called to some others to
look at us, because soon there
were four officers up there,
each with more gold braid on
their cuffs than the other.
Then one with a lot of
rank below his elbow lifted a
loud hailer and a nasal,
metallic, twangy voice crackled
over to us with typical American
humour – ‘Say- do you guys know
something weather wise that we
don’t?’ He looked up and
gestured with his arm at the
blue sky. We could see all the
American gold sleeves laughing
at his smart remark.
This upset our ex-RN
skipper. He took a tremendous
drag on his cigarette and as he
exhaled he told us in a low,
mean, angry tone – ‘Get those
bloody handkerchiefs down and
then get the big genoa up with
the staysail, the full main, the
full mizzen and the
mizzen-staysail. I want them
all up as quick as you can and
we will show those Yankee
comedians how to sail a boat.’
We excelled
ourselves. The main was up and
set in record time. The big
genoa wasn’t far behind. The
staysail and the mizzen were
about even in getting wind into
them. The awkward
mizzen-staysail took a little
bit longer but then she was
sailing and we had some luck.
The wind lifted a little to a
good force 3 and changed
direction allowing us to
reciprocate our course and sail
back along the length of the
Hunley. Taikoo, obviously
annoyed at the Americans, heeled
over a bit and really started to
sail nicely.
As we were abeam of the
American’s bridge, we saw the
loudhailer being lifted into use
again. That horrible metallic,
echoing voice came over to us –
‘Now you guys are talking –nice
one.’ But our skipper hadn’t
finished with then.
He emphatically pointed aft to
where our ensign was dipped to
the Hunley. There was no one
attending their ensign. Our
skipper kept pointing to our
dipped ensign. There was a bit
of a fuss on the Hunley’s
bridge. People seemed to be
shouting and waving arms. Then
a seaman was seen to run to the
ladder from the bridge, went to
slide down the rails – and
slipped off near the bottom. He
picked himself up and limped as
fast as he could to the ensign.
Then he had trouble getting the
halyard off the cleat. At last
the ensign of the USS Hunley was
dipped in response to the
courtesy dipping of our Red
Ensign.
Our skipper, with a
certain amount of satisfaction,
slowly breathed ‘Cheeky
bastards!.’ He told us all to
keep looking forward, not even a
sidelong glance at the big grey
hull we were creaming past.
There were no further loudhailer
comments from the USS Hunley.