CLASSIC BOAT NOVEMBER 2017 79NAVAL STYLE
old coat rather than blow what cash we had on new oilskins. Back
then, they’d probably have leaked anyway. We only had the one,
but since we were unlikely to be on deck at the same time except to
reef the mainsail or change the bowsprit jibs, we could ‘hot-coat’
it. So we did. As I came below to the joys of my warm bunk, I’d
strip it off and hand it to my wife. It was a bit big for her, but she
favours the multi-layered approach to keeping warm.
The coat handled the extra sweaters bountifully, so there were
no complaints. It must be said that by the time we reached
Ireland it was more than a little salty, but, being pure wool, it
kept us warm just as wet fleece keeps a million sheep cosy on
winter moors the world over.
We were too mean to send that pea jacket to the dry-cleaners as
it richly deserved, so it hung in a shed until the early 1980s until I
discovered it, green all over from the mould that my poor
maintenance had encouraged. I binned it with a tear, then went out
to buy another. Genuine US navy coats were hard to find in the UK
before the internet came along. Now, a Google search will net one
with change from 70 quid. I have two.
One stays at home for ‘smart’ while the older unit lives on
board and is still my preferred foul-weather gear for anything but
the wettest scenario.
It’s snug, warm and it looks so much more appropriate than
some crackly, high-vis outfit that flashes in the dark.
Another item of classic gear I once employed to augment the
Yankee jacket in the wet was a full-length black oilskin I
found hanging on the wheelhouse door of a dredger. It had
been there for years. Nobody claimed it, so I liberated it
for the cause. It smelt like a herring factory but it was
stout and 100 per cent waterproof. Rubber buttonsfastened into a sort of fly front and it became established on my old
pilot cutter where all hands called it ‘The Crow’. The Crow was
also useful for diverting deck leaks. The boat specialised in these,
so the coat was in demand.
Once I found my mate deeply asleep beneath it. A North-Sea
gale was blowing at the time. The Crow was working well and
his bunk was bone dry. When I shook him for our watch he was
deeply unconscious and had removed a set of teeth I had
always assumed to be his own, so his face showed a shrunken
mien. For a fearful moment I thought him dead until he opened
one eye and demanded a cup of tea. I grabbed The Crow,
slipped it on and clambered into the cockpit where it
immediately fielded a bandit green sea.
Sadly, The Crow passed beyond my ken when I sold the pilot
cutter. Doubtless it was dumped by some misguided individual
who failed to recognise its sterling qualities. When the chips are
down, I am now left with no choice but to struggle into my
modern ‘Cape Horn Specials – dark grey’. On all other
occasions, I choose the comfortable pea jacket. My wife,
turning a blind eye to the cost, now wears her own.CB353 Tom Cunliffe No23.indd 79 26/09/2017 12:41