November 2017 63furiously for another 30 minutes. It wasn’t so much a
question as an equation. Could we shift suffi cient water
out of Palinode, create enough buoyancy, to lift her stern
at a faster rate than the rise of the incoming tide. I
remembered the rule of twelfths. The tide was coming in
more rapidly now.
“We’ve dropped the level by 3in,” shouted Chris.
“Water is slopping in,” I shouted back.
“Every inch pumped is a ton of water out and a ton of
buoyancy in,” he shouted back.
I plunged my arm underwater and found the carpet on
the cock pit fl oor. I rolled it up and put it across the stern
coaming, sat on it and pumped furiously. It seemed
impossible but all our pumping, all those tons of
buoyancy, had failed to shift the boat one iota. Water
started to pour in over the stern. I ran forward to the
bridge and grabbed a second carpet. “We’re losing her,” I
told Chris, unable to conceal the anguish in my voice.
“Increase the pumping speed for fi ve minutes” Chris
responded. I’ve rarely seen him look so grim. “It’s all we can
do.” He pulled out his Mars bar, took half in a single bite
and started pumping at incredible speed. I leapt back to
the cockpit, threw the carpet on top of the fi rst, sat on both
and began pumping, matching Chris’s effort. We were
pumping so vigorously now that we both feared that the
pump diaphragms wouldn’t take it, but they held. After
fi ve minutes the water was still coming in, but in slops,
and no faster than before. Chris shouted to ask how it was
going. I wasn’t sure. A minute later, Chris yelled again:
“How is it Martyn?”
“Just keep at it,” I shouted back. For some reason, I felt
not the slightest fatigue and nor, I believe, did Chris.
Slowly yet inexorably Palinode began to rise. Ten minutes
later the water level was 2in below the coaming and hardly
a drop was coming in. She was righting her self and at that
moment we realised that we really could save this boat.
“Water level inside is down by 6in,” reported Chris.
“Water level outside down by four,” I replied.
“Better get her kedge out in case she begins to fl oat.”
Chris was right; the last thing we needed
was for her to fl oat further up the rock.
“Let’s give it one more burst to be sure”.
Ten minutes later, we left the pumps to
hunt for ropes. We tied the lengths
together and fastened one end to a 35lb
CQR. We rowed 50 yards and dropped the
kedge into deep water. Chris heaved on
the line and Palinode slewed around
about 10° but remained stuck fast.
“Let’s get the sails up,” I called. “We can
sail her out of here.”
For the next hour we pumped and
rigged alternately. The purpose, the
adven ture, the total engagement in the
moment, was not dreamlike then, but
unthinking normality. It was how life
was meant to be lived. We raised the tan sails one after
another, jib, main and mizzen, and as they opened in the
breeze it was as if our spirits opened with them. From the
deck, Palinode was no longer a wreck.
There was more pumping to be done, but we had time
now to think and plan. As we discussed the options, the
miracle happened. Palinode swung free of the rock. She sat
quietly in the deep water as if nothing had happened.
I rowed away to return with Pippa, handing Chris a
couple of bacon and egg rolls prepared by
Anne. He devoured them like a bear awaking
from hibernation. With Pippa circling like a
watchful mother duck, Chris hauled up the
kedge as I pulled in the sheets. The sails fi lled.
Palinode began to make way. Still heavy with
water, we edged her well clear of the island,
before turning into Loch Fyne and putting
her on a course for Tarbert. Halfway across
Loch Fyne the pumps sucked
dry. Half an hour later she was
still dry. Palinode was sound as
a bell.PalinodeFrank Curtis and Pape
Gentlemans Motor
Yacht Ð 42 ft• • Year: 1962 Last Listed Price: £ (^) 70,000 Tax Paid
- (US$ 107,478) Located In Troon, United Kingdom
• • (^) Hull Material: Wood Engine/Fuel Type: Twin diesel
- YW# 76373-2013738^
- Sold (2007)
The author, below.
Palinode’s rebirth
as Arran Rose,
above, show the
effort was worth it