Australian Historical Sailing Skiff Association Inc

Next Meeting: 19th July, 2012

7.30pm at Drummoyne Sailing Club

August Newsletter 2012Websites: ahssa.weebly.com

nswtens.weebly.com

AHSSAP.O. Box 48Drummoyne, NSW 2047

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Patron Phil BoydPresident Ian Smith Vice President John LewisHon. Secretary Ron Collyer Commodore Bob SawyerHon. Treasurer Marlene Jacobson Vice Commodores Michael Chapman

& Michele Rocheta & Col Gillespie

Editor: Ron Collyer Phone/Fax: (02) 9807 2328Address: 22/512 Victoria Rd Email: ronandpatcollyer@gmail.com

Ryde, 2112

August, 1952 Seacraft Page 2

Incident on Sydney HarbourFifty-four years ago (1898)

Old-Time yachtsmen are always ready to tell you that in the days of their youth sails were bigger, crews were larger and their fighting hearts were XOS too. Sailing races had more gusto to them fifty or sixty years ago, they will assure you, with a faraway gleam in their sun-bleached eyes.

The modern yachtsman, finding plenty of thrills and stiff opposition in his own races, is inclined to lend a sceptical ear to oldsters' claims; but now and again we come across some records which make us think that perhaps such claims should not be discounted as so much “sour grapes”.

Take the incident on this page, preserved for posterity by the camera of one Henry King and featured in the supplement section of a vintage copy of “The Yachtsman”, dated May 5, 1898.

The photos show two 22-footers of the Sydney Flying Squadron (then only seven years old). The boats are Effie and Wanga; carrying between 16 and 20 men each, they are racing before a light breeze with with a whacking spread of canvas – mainsail,reaching jib, jackyard topsail, ringtail and spinnaker.

TOP PHOTO: So intent is Effie's skipper on blanketing Wanga that he has alloewed his jib luff to foul Wanga's spinnaker.

SECOND PHOTO: Hooked together, the boats race on past Mr King and his camera. “Whacko!” shouts Mr King, clicking the shutter as Effie's mammoth boom and ringtail threaten mayhem to Wanga's thickly packed crew.

THIRD PHOTO: This is adding injury to insult, and Wanga's crew are not the boys to take it lying down. A glance to make sure the judge's boat is not in the vicinity – and brawny hands grab the ringtail boom: “We'll show these *******s!”

LAST PHOTO: Retribution, swift and sudden overtakes Effie's skipper and crew. The motorboat is still a rare freak on Sydney Harbour, and nobody knows how long they will remain in the water. The language doesn't show in the photo, but we can imagine it pretty well ; we also foresee a lively scene at the Squadron's next meeting, when the incident will be thrashed out. Someone will get blown out for it – but who?

If you really want to know, ask to see the records of the Sydney Flying Squadron for the year 1898.

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Voice from the past:Mark Foy and the Flying FishBy “Clipper”

Mark Foy's 18 footer

things were too dear and they'd have to economise.

Now Mark Foy was a generous man who loved to see a good race, and on the night I have in mind he arrived at the Flying Squadron meeting with ahuge silver cup and a cheque for £50, both of which he announced were to be for the winner of the first race in the new class. Fifty pounds was a lot of money in those days and his generous offer was received enthusiastically. But after the applause had died down and some of the skippers had begun to think about it, they realised that if Flying Fish lived up to the promise she'd already shown racing against 24-footers in a strong breeze, the race would surely be his, and Foy would get his own prize back.

“What objection could we raise to cut Flying Fish out?” was the thought uppermost in several minds just then. Two men thought of it together, leapt to their feet, tried to speak at once, graciously gave way to each other, started to speak together again, and would have started off together again if the chairman hadn't ordered one to speak and the other to remain silent:

“Gentleman,” the chosen one said. “We must all be grateful to Mr Foy for his handsome cup and generous prize, and it is, um, reluctantly that I move that Flying Fish not be allowed to race with the 22-footer class, as her greater length would give her an unfair advantage.”

There was an audible sigh of relief from the other skippers and half a dozen hands went up to second the motion.

Foy's grey eyes glinted fiercely and I could see him thinking, “Ha,they're Frightened to race me,” but the motion was seconded and carried as he thought it.

Then he leapt to his feet. “Gentlemen,” he murmured, “is it only the length of my boat that you object to?”

“Yes, yes..... length,” they replied.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” said Foy. “I must ask to be excused now, as I

have work to do,” and he strode out.

Down the steps he strode, leaped into his coach, barked an order to the driver, and tandem and coach went flying down the road with the whip cracking over the horses' backs.

That was the last we saw of him that night, but I heard that he drove like the wind, out along South Head Road, with the lamp s shining fitfully out ahead. The greys could pick their way through the night uncannily. They were covered with sweat as they pulled up outside Messenger's boatshed at Double Bay.

Foy leapt to the ground and rapped on Messenger's door with his cane.

“Messenger,” he said, “is the Flying Fish ready to race?”

“Yes, sir”

“Good, then she races on Saturday, but -” and he paused for a moment - “she must only be 22 feet long and we're going to race and we're going to win. Goodnight.” He turned on his heel and strode back to the coach.

This, mind you, was on Thursday night. Messenger had one and a half days to shorten each of Flying Fish's two hulls by 2 feet.

He did it. He and his offsider worked right through Friday night. They sawed the sterns of both boats, put new transoms in, re-arranged the fittings and whacked some varnish on. The varnish was still wet when she left the boatshed.

The race was pitiful. There was a black nor'-easter blowing in as most of the boats came down from McMahon's Point and Flying Fish worked up out of Double Bay.

Off across the starting line, she marched straight out into the lead with all the crew, except one bailer boy, up on the windward hull and the leeward hull nearly buried as she sliced out to windward. From the start it was a one-boat race, but Flying Fish was still driven to the limit all the way. She came home a very easy winner.

SEACRAFT, February, 1956, Page 17

At the turn of the century I was just a stripling youth – mad to sail and talk about boats. One of the things I especially liked to do was to sneak into the Sydney Flying Squadron committee meetings and just sit as inconspicuously as possible, listening to the proceedings. Wild proceedings they were, too, at times.

Mark Foy was one of the mainstays of the Flying Squadron and in those days he cut a dashing figure.

He was driven everywhere in a light coach pulled by two spirited and handsome, grey thoroughbreds. I suppose in 1955 he'd drive himself in a Bristol, but in those days his carriage was as fashionable and smart as are any of the best cars today.

One Thursday night in 1901, if I remember correctly, I sat in on one of the committee meetings being held at Aaron's Hotel, where everyone could enjoy a drink after the meeting.

Mark Foy had just built Flying Fish, a boat with double hulls, each 22 feet long and about four feet beam, and separated by six feet. She'd been built to race in the 24-footer class – big skiffs similar to our present 18-footers – when the shed which housed most of the boats (but not Flying Fish) at McMahon's Point was razed by fire.

The Flying Squadron committee had voted to start a new class with boats only 22 feet long, because these presumably would be less expensive than their larger predecessors. Everyone seemed to be saying then, as they have been ever since, that

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You think catamarans are relatively new? Mark Foy was cleaning up in one in the 1900's.

Disclaimer: Neither the AHSSAor the Editor of this newsletter takes the responsibility for the views nor the accuracy of the information contained

in the articles that appear in this newsletter.

THE 18-FOOTER STORY objection to the Squadron was its reluctance to permit 7foot beam boats to race. The narrow boats somewhat pioneered by a Brisbane boat “Aberdare”, which had previously demonstrated her ability, gradually developed a new look. Less sail in a gunter rather than gaff rig and the crew reduced to 8.

A few years later the “Squadron” followed suit and while its followers now sailed in two separate clubs, the eighteen footers became fairly standardised.

In 1937 the League endeavoured to start a World Championship race and invited America, China, Canada, New Zealand and Fiji to compete. These efforts, however, were rather overshadowed by the threat of war and when in 1938 the first James J. Giltinan World Trophy was held only Queensland, New South Wales and New Zealand competed.. Fiji, however, joined them the following year.

The Squadron altered their regulations in 1945 allowing boats of a 6 foot beam to participate in races.

In 1951, a most significant year in 18 footer racing, the League followed suit. In this year the Squadron entered the World Championship for the first time and one of the boats “Myra Two” gained first place. It was at this time that the bermuda rig was making its appearance and it brought with it our modern 18 footer, a boat with a crew of 5 and again a reduced sail area.

This year, for the first time,there has been an effortmade to regularly match League and Squadron boats. It is to be hoped that this is a success, for these boats, new, costing over £1,000 each, have for along time been a tradition of Sydney Harbour and all efforts should be made to hold the class together.

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In nautical circle, Sydney Harbour is known throughout the world. In addition to it's fame as a shelter for large ships, it offers ideal conditions for sailing. It is not surprising, therefore, that the 18-footer, of which we may be justly proud, was developed as no other countryhas so continually fostered the sailing of open boats with unrestricted sail area.

Unlike most craft whose design can be attributed to one man, the history of the 18-footer goes back many years and in order to know how it evolved it is necessary to delve briefly into early Australian history.

In the 1830's bay whaling was common. Banks of men, often deserters from whaling vessels, would sail offshore in their small boats in an effort to earn money by freelance whaling.

This gradually died out, but the achievements of these small open boats, sailing off the coast, led to another type of business.

One of the 1949 model 18 footers.

At this time Australia was producing more meat than could be sold, and the meat industry became very competitive. There was always a great amount of bargaining to obtain the meat contract for the supply to ships entering the harbour. From this the idea was developed of sailing out in a whaleboat to meet the incoming ships and thus be first on the scene to obtain the meat contract. It was not long before the wealthy meat merchants owned their own fleet of small open boats which raced to meet the incoming ships. These boats became known as the “butcher boats”.

In the 1890's cables were laid and this ended the use of the “butcher boats”. By this time, however, there were so many of these small sailing boats that the owners took to racing modifications of them for pleasure.

Local sailing clubs were developed and at this stage there were 18, 22 and 24 footer skiffs competing together in races.

One man, Mr Mark Foy, decided to put sailing on a more organised basis.

He proposed to run ferries from which people could see the race and suggested the introduction of handicapping so that the first boat over the line was the winner. The requirement for the entrant was that the boat must have a beam of 7ft 4inches.

This was the beginning of organised 18 footer racing although it was not for some years that restrictions were placed on the length of the boat as well as the beam.

Two clubs were formed, namely the “Sydney Sailing Club” and the “Sydney Flying Squadron”.

In 1912 these were amalgamated into the “Sydney Flying Squadron” and by this time their boats were bearing resemblance to the modern 18 footer.

They were, however, 8 feet wide, carried as much as 2,500 square feet of sail and needed as many as 15 for their crew.

1934 saw the breakaway of some of the members to form their own Club which was known as “The New South Wales 18 footer Sailing League”. Their principal

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18-Footers preparing for a start in the 1930's