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almost
slid off the side, but Jerry was still grinning as he corrected
things.
    “Have another
try, but remember, GENTLY”, Jerry’s voice drifted over the water to
the watchers on the shore. Dean gradually got better and eventually
returned after nearly managing a complete circle on the way
back.
    “As good as my
archery”, muttered Jack cheerfully and felt slightly better about
his morning’s efforts – no one can be good at everything. Jerry let
Patrick sail on while the novices learned about how a sail makes a
boat go and something called the “No Go Zone” which boats can’t
sail into.
    “Do they sink
in it, then?” Dean asked.
    “No they stop
or go backwards,” Jerry replied. ”Imagine a box with the wind
blowing across the diagonal corners. To stay out of the no go zone,
you have to sail along the sides of the box. If you try to sail
into the box, straight towards the wind, you will be in the no go
zone and the sail will flap and the boat will slow down and stop.
If you don’t turn to steer along the side of the box, you start
going backwards.” He looked around the group to make sure they
understood. “OK, I’m going to pair you up now for company and I
want you to sail to the yellow buoy over there”, he pointed,” tack
around and sail back to the beach, swap places so you each get a
turn at steering and have another go. Jack with Dean, Maureen with
Ross, Susan with Patrick. If things don’t go to plan, let go of
everything and sit tight, and I’ll come and give you a hand”.
    ROSS’S REMINDER DRAWING (note “ a capsize” is when the
boat tips over completely onto its side)

CHAPTER 6

    For the
beginners, things were not so easy without Jerry aboard, telling
them what to do. Maureen’s eyes were enormous and her knuckles
white as the wind puffed and the boat began to tip. She had no
control as Ross held the tiller and rope. She sat as far away from
the water as she could and hung on tight. The water was lapping
over the deck and still Ross clung determinedly to rope and tiller,
although he, too, was now staring wide eyed at the advancing water.
At last, as the water no longer lapped, but flooded aboard, it was
too much for Maureen.
    “Let go”,
Maureen screamed. Snapping out of his trance, Ross did exactly what
he was told and let go of the rope and the tiller completely. The
boat stopped tipping and fell almost on top of them, whilst
spinning around, and the sail snatched and flapped ominously above
their heads. Maureen dived for the middle of the boat.
    “Not that
much,” Maureen said disgustedly, wondering what she was doing out
in a boat with this dopey boy. Trying to regain his pride, Ross
grabbed at the tiller and pulled. Not much happened.
    “We’ve
stopped”, he shouted over the noise of flapping canvas. Maureen’s
look said it all as she pointed to the rope. Ross sheepishly
snatched the end and pulled until the sail tugged back and they
were off. Ross was getting the hang of it again now. The yellow
buoy was whizzing towards them as he went through the tacking
routine in his mind, and then, here they were. “Swap hands”, he
muttered, doing so. “Push tiller”, again he followed out his own
instructions, and the boat obediently swung into the wind, the sail
swung towards their heads as the wind puffed at the other side of
the boat and sail, and they ducked. Maureen was already scrambling
across to the other side of the boat. ”Change sides”. Somehow the
end of the rope had looped itself around Ross’s foot and the tiller
was trying to climb into his buoyancy aid. Wriggling across, he
felt Maureen untangling the rope and concentrated on getting the
tiller free as the sail snapped into its graceful curve and the
boat leapt forward. Without need of Maureen’s reminder, he eased
the rope, (Sheet, he remembered to call it), and then they powered
back towards the shore like Olympic sailors. Maureen had had the
chance to learn from Ross’s mistakes and sailed Olympic