keen young men who were to become the backbone of Erewhon ’s crew.
Jack took on the role of sailing master, and all was readyas Mac sauntered along King’s Wharf. As soon as Mac was on board, the crew cast off. To everyone’s surprise, the moment the shore lines were released Mac started to look green, and before long he was prostrate on the counter-stern leaving his breakfast over the stern rail. This brought peals of laughter, but Mac couldn’t find any humour in the situation. The sea trial went ahead, and despite his enthusiasm for the yacht’s performance, Mac’s condition didn’t improve. Much to everyone else’s disappointment, the yacht returned to dock early.
Mercedes, Jack and Toby were ecstatic about Erewhon’ s power and, once he had his feet back on the dock, Mac shared their excitement. Sea trials and fine-tuning continued for the next few weeks, and any of the running gear that didn’t come up to standard was altered or replaced.
Each time the yacht left its mooring at St Mary’s Bay, Mac would be on board, but only as far as Orakei Wharf, where he would be put ashore. Mercedes, Jack and Toby would carry on with the day’s sailing. Despite trying every remedy known, Mac simply couldn’t find his sea legs. He’d travelled the world on steamers, sailed on the lochs in Scotland as a boy and, since arriving in Auckland, had crossed the harbour on the ferry at least twice a week, but had never felt the slightest bit squeamish. Despite all the pills and potions, nothing could get his stomach to settle when he placed a foot on board his beloved yacht. In desperation, Mac wrote to his old friend, Sir Tom. Tongue in cheek, Tom could only suggest that Mac change his brand of tea. He reminded Mac that the wager was still on, once he had wrested the Auld Mug back off those bloody colonials.
Sir Tom’s letter made Mac even more determined to overcome his problem and, as Christmas was approaching, he decided that Mercedes, Toby and the crew should sail the yacht to the Bay of Islands. He’d meet them there and try his sea legs out in the sheltered waters.
The arrangements were made, and Erewhon was entered in the Squadron’s race to Russell. It was Erewhon’ s first official race, and the yachting fraternity soon had a book running on the time it would take for the yacht to cover the distance and the lead it would have over its nearest rival.
The jaunt to the Bay of Islands, while being a great success for everybody else, did nothing to improve Mac’s comfort level. He even tried cold-turkey and insisted on being on board for the trip back down the coast, but it didn’t work.
Finally, Mac resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t cut out for this sailing lark. He handed the reins over completely to Mercedes. His only problem was the wager with Sir Tom. To keep his end of the bargain, he wrote to suggest that Mercedes be allowed to sail the craft when the time came.
Sir Tom, a little nonplussed about the thought of racing a woman in an event that involved such a large wager, wrote back to call the deal off. When Mac received the note, he promptly replied that a deal was a deal and he would up the ante if Sir Tom was running scared.
Mercedes was visibly upset by Lipton’s effrontery, but decided to sail against another J skipper to prove her ability to the yachting world.
The search began to find suitable opposition, but the nearest J was a yacht called Jabberwocky , which sailed on Sydney Harbour. Jabberwocky was, in fact, a sister ship of Lipton’s Shamrock IV , which had been fitted with a new Bermuda rig so that it could be raced in J-class events on the East Coast of America. Her owner, Buffalo Smith, a self-made millionaire, had made his fortune in the gold-fields of South Australia. He’d always fancied himself as a yachtsman, and didn’t mind spending a large part of his earnings on having a crack at the toffee-nosed boys who sailed out of Rhode Island.
Buffalo wasn’t a complete
Jack took on the role of sailing master, and all was readyas Mac sauntered along King’s Wharf. As soon as Mac was on board, the crew cast off. To everyone’s surprise, the moment the shore lines were released Mac started to look green, and before long he was prostrate on the counter-stern leaving his breakfast over the stern rail. This brought peals of laughter, but Mac couldn’t find any humour in the situation. The sea trial went ahead, and despite his enthusiasm for the yacht’s performance, Mac’s condition didn’t improve. Much to everyone else’s disappointment, the yacht returned to dock early.
Mercedes, Jack and Toby were ecstatic about Erewhon’ s power and, once he had his feet back on the dock, Mac shared their excitement. Sea trials and fine-tuning continued for the next few weeks, and any of the running gear that didn’t come up to standard was altered or replaced.
Each time the yacht left its mooring at St Mary’s Bay, Mac would be on board, but only as far as Orakei Wharf, where he would be put ashore. Mercedes, Jack and Toby would carry on with the day’s sailing. Despite trying every remedy known, Mac simply couldn’t find his sea legs. He’d travelled the world on steamers, sailed on the lochs in Scotland as a boy and, since arriving in Auckland, had crossed the harbour on the ferry at least twice a week, but had never felt the slightest bit squeamish. Despite all the pills and potions, nothing could get his stomach to settle when he placed a foot on board his beloved yacht. In desperation, Mac wrote to his old friend, Sir Tom. Tongue in cheek, Tom could only suggest that Mac change his brand of tea. He reminded Mac that the wager was still on, once he had wrested the Auld Mug back off those bloody colonials.
Sir Tom’s letter made Mac even more determined to overcome his problem and, as Christmas was approaching, he decided that Mercedes, Toby and the crew should sail the yacht to the Bay of Islands. He’d meet them there and try his sea legs out in the sheltered waters.
The arrangements were made, and Erewhon was entered in the Squadron’s race to Russell. It was Erewhon’ s first official race, and the yachting fraternity soon had a book running on the time it would take for the yacht to cover the distance and the lead it would have over its nearest rival.
The jaunt to the Bay of Islands, while being a great success for everybody else, did nothing to improve Mac’s comfort level. He even tried cold-turkey and insisted on being on board for the trip back down the coast, but it didn’t work.
Finally, Mac resigned himself to the fact that he wasn’t cut out for this sailing lark. He handed the reins over completely to Mercedes. His only problem was the wager with Sir Tom. To keep his end of the bargain, he wrote to suggest that Mercedes be allowed to sail the craft when the time came.
Sir Tom, a little nonplussed about the thought of racing a woman in an event that involved such a large wager, wrote back to call the deal off. When Mac received the note, he promptly replied that a deal was a deal and he would up the ante if Sir Tom was running scared.
Mercedes was visibly upset by Lipton’s effrontery, but decided to sail against another J skipper to prove her ability to the yachting world.
The search began to find suitable opposition, but the nearest J was a yacht called Jabberwocky , which sailed on Sydney Harbour. Jabberwocky was, in fact, a sister ship of Lipton’s Shamrock IV , which had been fitted with a new Bermuda rig so that it could be raced in J-class events on the East Coast of America. Her owner, Buffalo Smith, a self-made millionaire, had made his fortune in the gold-fields of South Australia. He’d always fancied himself as a yachtsman, and didn’t mind spending a large part of his earnings on having a crack at the toffee-nosed boys who sailed out of Rhode Island.
Buffalo wasn’t a complete
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