Easterly

A Coastal Sailing Adventure

Brian L Bennett

ISBN 978-09562335-0-9Copyright © by Brian L Bennett.All rights reserved.

ePublication uk18 Market StreetWellsSomersetBA5 2DS+44 01749 988010 go to home pagehttp://www.epub.uk.com

Forward.

During the early post-war era, many smalltimber built yachts frequented our shores.The East Coast rivers played host to manyof these craft, thus providing a rich andrewarding pastime for the part-timeseafarer.

Sadly, the number of these craft havedeclined, due to age and neglect. A timberbuilt yacht requires many hours to bespent during the winter months, onmaintenance and general loving care.“Many like to sail, not so many like toscrub” as the saying goes.

I had the privilege of sailing a smallsample of such craft in the period 1959 –

1975, and I am left with fond memories ofthose times.

Brian L Bennett

21 December 2012.

Chapter 1.

The waters, fleets and marshes of theBlackwater Estuary, extending Easterlytoward the North Sea, looked strange andunreal in the early morning light. JohnFrancis had known the area from earlychildhood and now surveyed the scenewith mixed feelings of familiarity andexcitement at the prospect of hishomecoming. He banked the Cessna toport, steadying on a bearing of 30 degreesmagnetic, Just ahead he could see theoutline of Osea Island, his finaldestination. There was just two miles nowto his objective. This would not be an easy

landing. A steep descent, full flaps, flaring-out just above the sea wall that borderedthe Southern end of the small grass field.It had been ten years now since he hadsailed these waters with his wife Beth.Long, lonely years that he still bitterlyregretted. They had met as students andmarried in the Spring of the followingyear, 1975. Both were in their late teensand perhaps somewhat over optimistic intheir endeavours. The summer of that yearhad been idyllic. They had rented livingspace in an old sail loft close to the river,and sailed regularly in the evenings and atweek ends throughout the season. In theAugust Beth had fallen for his child, but assummer turned to winter the loft no longer

offered the haven of comfort that it hadpreviously afforded them. Then in theChristmas week Beth had slipped on theloft stairs, fallen badly and miscarried.

An angry obsessive mother had insistedthat her daughter should return to thefamily home, and he was hardly in aposition to argue, having realised that hisprospects were at the very least nonexistent. After that they had somehowdrifted apart and he had not contested thedivorce that followed. A ten year flyingcommission in the Royal Air Force hadhelped to alleviate the deep feelings of loseand failure after the event. Havingcompleted his flying training he wasappointed to transport command. There

had been a point when feeling morecomplete and secure with his situation, hehad tried to contact Beth, only to find thatthe family had moved abroad.

His attention was drawn to a smallflashing light on the island. This was hislanding beacon as promised. He set hisfuel mixture to rich, fully extended theflaps and started to let-down towards thispoint in the half-light. This landing was tobe one of so many that he had experience,but still difficult in these conditions. Heremembered Harry his instructor saying“They are all easy when your feet are onthe ground.” This advise had stood him ingood stead through out his career.

Harry Tenant, Aitch to his friends, hadreally put him through the mill during hisin-flight training, For which he waseternally grateful. It had eradicated manyof the mistakes and bad habits that youngpilots could succumb to, and allowed himto gain the wealth of experience that henow had under his belt, so to speak. Theyhad become firm friends over the years,and were always please to see each otherwhen their paths crossed as they often did.In fact their last meeting had occurred inthe City only a month earlier. “Hellochum!” he had always called him chum.“Didn’t fly the desk then?” Aitchcontinued, “not likely!” he replied. Hisinvolvement with transport command had

ended after an ear infection had landedhim in doc for a while. They had offeredthe desk job, but he decided to resign hiscommission and try his luck elsewhere.“Got just the thing for you,” said Aitch,handing him a small neatly printedbusiness card. “Chap I know, out on thisisland in the Essex marshes. God knowswhat he is doing there. Wants a pilot!urgent! Give you a start! got to rush! goodluck!” and he was gone, lost in the eveningcommuter rush.

The meeting with the agent in hisHolborne offices had been brief, perhaps alittle too brief. Upon inspection of his CV,documentation and logs he had beencommissioned to collect the Cessna from

the dealership and deliver it to the islandat an allotted time, He had also been giventwo thousand pounds for expenses andoffered a rather large monthly salary, forwhich he promptly signed on the dottedline. The next two weeks had passedquickly, as he put his affairs in order,transferred his bank accounts andgathered the gear and resources that thisnew endeavour would require.

His approach was almost complete, Hewas down to 200ft and could clearly seethe extent of the landing field. The beaconwas still flashing at the far end, and heestimated that the sea wall stood no morethan 5 to 6ft above the level of the field.The waters of the estuary slid by beneath

him. He throttled back the engine, pulledback on the control column, and theCessna crossed the sea wall boundary andsettled softly but firmly onto the grasslandbeyond. He surveyed the field as he taxiedto a parking area which fronted a largeshed. He manoeuvred the aircraft onto thishard-standing and switched off the engine.He sat in the silence for a moment andthen opened the door and stepped to theground. He removed four large travel bagsfrom the rear of the aircraft, and stoodthere surveying his surroundings. He wasa James Stuart look-alike, No wonder BethHolden had fallen so helplessly for him.He was tall and slim with quite grey eyesand a generous smile.

“Mr Francis?” A large figure of a man hadarrived at the field. “Hello Sir, my name isJohnson. The Governor has asked me tomeet you and escort you to the house. I seethat you have luggage. Please allow me.”He lifted the heavy bags placing one undereach arm, and one in each hand, as if theywere rag dolls. “This way please Sir! it’sonly a short distance.” They walked alonga narrow path that ran parallel to the sideof the shed and came to a small roadrunning to left and right of it. A golf trolleywas park by the end of the path. “Sorryabout about the transport, best we can doI’m afraid.” “That’s OK !” he answered.“I’ve had worst.” The bags were depositedin the back and they turned right onto the

road which led them towards the river, atwhich point the it turned left and ranparallel to the frontage a large manorhouse, before turning left again to giveaccess to the rear of the property. He hadnoticed the building during his approach.An elegant structure with a large dormerwindow and twin towers topped by spires.“Have to use the back entrance Sir, thefront is locked for security. This place is upfor sale. We only have it for a month, justfor this operation.” Having offered theinformation he wrapped himself round thebags again, like a crab carrying eggs andproceeded to enter the building throughthe back door, which gave access to akitchen and a small dinning area.

Three men sat at the table sharing the firstmeal of the day, whilst a fourth, movedsilently around them attending to theirneeds. The elder of the three stood up ashe entered the room, offering his hand inwelcome. “Hello! I’m Graham Spencer. Formy sins, I’m in charge of this little lot.Have a seat.” He nodded to Johnson.“Take the bags up will you. I’ll show MrFrancis to his room later.” “Yes Sir! rightaway,” came the reply and he withdrew toattend to the request. There was no doubtthat this man commanded respect. He wastall and slim, with dark hair combed backfrom his temples and a pencil thinmoustache. “Let me introduce you. TimWestern and David Cox.” he said,

referring to his two companions. “Tim isyour flight engineer and David will beinstalling the camera and handling thephoto-graphical side of things.” They bothnodded and smiled in recognition. TimWeston arose from the table. “Pleaseexcuse us for now, we have lots to do if weare to be ready in time.” They took theirleave, and went about their business.Graham Spencer looked at his watch.“Good Lord is that the time?” Hebeckoned to the house keeper. “See thatMr Francis gets a good breakfast and thenshow him to his room, will you?” “Ofcourse Sir, one breakfast coming up” theman replied and busied himself at thestove. His attention returned to his guest,

“I’ll see you back here for launch, at12.30hrs. Do make yourself at home andhave a look around the grounds if youwish,” and then he was gone. Momentslater a very large plate of bacon and eggsappeared upon the table and John Francisrealised that he was ready for every scrapof it.

It had been a very full day. His room onthe upper floor looked out across the river.The furniture and decoration had seenbetter days, but it was adequate and hehad spent an hour stowing his gear andsettling in. He had to admit that hissituation gave him some concern. Theyhad lunched together, and on the surface ithad been friendly enough and he was

pleased to be working in a team again.After lunch, they had attended a briefingat the large shed. A camera pod had beenattached to the underside of the Cessna. Amonitor screen in the cockpit displayed thecamera view, plus navigationalinformation to the operator. A small hand-held unit enabled control of the camera.They discuses the flight procedures andcamera operations in great detail. The levelof knowledge present at the meetingimpressed him. It was early evening beforethey returned to the house, and he wasnow sitting in his room by the windowconsidering the events of the day. Theproject involved an aerial survey of theisland and surrounding area for the new

owners. But why assemble such aspecialist team, when an aerial surveycompany could have completed the task ata fraction of the cost. He put the materfrom his mind and turned his attention tothe view from the window. A small sailingcutter had anchored some distance fromthe shore. The crew had been busyattending to the rig and were now seatedin the cockpit enjoying a hot drink. Thescene evoked distant memories of happiertimes, and he sat silently recalling them fora while. When he looked again, the cutterhad hoisted tan colours sails, weighedanchor and was dancing across the smallwaves, her sails full in the breeze, headingfor open water and the sea beyond.

Chapter 2.

The Lad strolled along the path thatskirted the upper reaches of theBlackwater Estuary, past the mud-birthsthat adorned the river bank, and ontowards Downs Road and the boatyard,which was his intended destination. TheEssex riverside town of Maldon had beenhis stomping ground now for the pastthree years. Most of his young life hadbeen spent in Council care and he had littlerecollection of family and friends prior tothat. Upon reaching his fifteenth year, JoeMasters had offered him an apprenticeshipat the yard. He had been accepted by themen and given a sense of purpose and

belonging. River life suited him, and hewas to be found most off-times crewing onthe Thames barges that lay-to at the townquay. These few years had left him with astrong sense of craft and seamanship, anda physical ability belied by his smallstature.

He turned left and entered the yard. “Thegovernor wants you,” said Mac the rigger,“he’s up top,”. “OK Mac, thanks,” hereplied and bounded up the woodenstaircase two steps at a time, and enteredthe office which was in the loft above themain workshop. “You come up them stairslike that, you’ll have the whole bloodybuilding down round me ears.” JoeMasters sat at his desk grinning, amused

by the younger man’s enthusiasm. “Youand me are delivering Easterly toWivenhoe this evening. She’s beenregistered at Lloyd’s so you’ll need towork this number into a deck beam just aftof the mast. About two and a quarterinches high should do. Then collect yourgear and meet me back here this eveningto catch the tide. Bring plenty of clothes asyou’ll be away for a bit.” He handed over aslip of paper containing the number andsettled back to his own tasks. The laddescended the steps more slowly. Whatdid he mean, ‘be away for a bit’. Heshrugged, collected a selection of smallchisels and a mallet from his toolbox, andcrossed the yard towards the slipway.

Easterly sat in her cradle awaiting thereturn of the tide. She was a Seaway class28 foot gaff cutter, built on the south coastin 1930. The hull had been recovered froma mud birth further down river and towedto the yard to be restored for an owner inthe City. She sat there now complete in allof her glory. Varnished bright-work, ablack shear-strake, light-grey topsides anda dark-red anti-fouled bottom. She lookeda picture in the midday sun. He had beeninvolved in her reconstruction from thestart, and had an intimate knowledge ofevery plank, beam and fastening of her.

“Hello there!” A young woman hadentered the yard, walked quietly to theslipway and now stood beside him. She

was dressed in brown paint staineddungaree overalls. She was his equal inheight and wore a bright cheerful blue-eyed countenance under a mop of blondcurly hair. “Hello yourself!” he replied.Patricia, or Pat, as she preferred to beknown, was the daughter of his land lady.They had become close friends, somewould have said, inseparable. The men inthe yard pondered upon the mater.“What’s up with the lad? Wish he’d get amove on, the suspense is killing me.” Hehad taken it all in good part, but was notquite sure what was expected of him.“You’ll be away for a bit then?”. “Yes!sorry,” he replied, “I’ve only just heardmyself.” He looked across at her. Her eyes

were still smiling, but there was a slighttremor in her voice. “You take care then.See you when you get back.” She turnedand was gone as quickly as she hadarrived. He climbed the ladder, lent-toagainst Easterly’s topsides, stepped ontothe deck, and stood there considering hissituation. Their friendship meant a lot tohim and he was worried that he shouldhurt her feeling in some way that he didnot yet understand. He walked aft, alongthe deck stepped into the cockpit and wentbelow to complete his task.

Easterly lay to her anchor in the PyefleetChannel on the mouth of the River Colne,about four nautical miles from her finaldestination. They had started their journey

around 5pm that evening and with theassistance of receding tide, had navigatedthe upper reaches of the river andpreceded onward towards Osea Island andthe open waters that lay beyond. This firstjourney was to be taken up by the tasksnecessary to ensure that Easterly wasproperly prepared for the rigours that layahead of her. The new marine dieselengine propelled the little vessel at a verysatisfactory rate and also supplied theelectrical power required for her safenavigation and comfort aboard. Gone werethe oil lamps that would have served thispurpose in the past and gone also was thesmall coke stove that would have adornedand heated the main cabin. In its place was

a modern heater fuelled by diesel from themain tank. Joe was not sure that heapproved of the changes, but had to admitto the comfort, extra space andconvenience that they bestowed.

They interrupted their passage and lay toanchor off of the Osea Island foreshore tomake a brew of tea, do a final check of therigging and ground gear, before setting allplain sail and proceeding under a warmsouth westerly breeze towards the opensea. The conditions were ideal. Easterlyset-to at a great pace, shouldering aside thesmall seas with ease and leaving a smoothstraight wake in her path. This was whatshe had been designed to do. She was wellfitted to her task and in her element. The

lad was grinning from ear to ear, and Joehad to admit to a deep feeling ofsatisfaction in a job well done. Theyhugged the southern bank of the river,where the deeper water was to be foundand let Easterly have her head

Mrs M had prepared one of her beef anddumpling stews and this now stoodbubbling on the stove in Easterly’s galley.The lad sat reclining in the main cabincharged with great anticipation of the feastto come. Things didn’t get any better thanthis. They had arrived in the channelaround sunset and had secure the yachtand washed and tidied themselves inreadiness for the evening meal. That finalpassage in the soft light and warmth

balmy conditions, had been superb andhad left him feeling relaxed and mellow,helped no doubt by the small glass of navyrum stood on the table beside him. Joeappeared from the galley bearing twolarge bowls of steaming stew. “You quitecomfy there?” “Yes Joe!” “You’ll be doingthe washing up then?” “Yes Joe!” Hegrinned and deposited the bowls to theirallotted places upon the table, sat, andsettle to his meal with great gusto. The ladgrinned in reply and did likewise.

Easterly tugged gently at her anchor cableas she rode to the slight swell entering thechannel from the sea beyond. The breezehad died and the banks of the surroundingarea were shrouded in a light mist. There

was a chill in the air and the two mensitting in Easterly’s cockpit found comfortin their steaming mugs of coffee. Theremains of the meal had been cleared awayand all gear stowed for the night. Theridding light cast a soft beam across thefore-deck and surrounding area as if upona stage. The lad stood up, stretched longand hard and nodded. “That’s me for someshut-eye, Night Joe!” The other noddedback. “Just before you go, we will bemeeting a Miss Bethany Holden tomorrow.She’s the new owner. I want you to staywith her for a few days and teach her therudiments of handling Easterly.” The ladgrinned, “So that was what all of thesecrecy was about then.” “Yes I want you

to stay aboard. Move your gear into thefore peek and leave her the main cabin.She’ll be staying ashore at night of course.Any way that’s for another day. Justthought I’d let you know. I’ll just finishthis coffee. and I won’t be far behind you.”The Lad nodded again, as he entered thehatch and stepped below, leaving the olderman to savour the last remnants of theday. Joseph Masters sat in the silence ofthe evening, a very contented man.

Life had not always been so kind. The waryears had taken their toll. As a child offour he had been evacuated from The Cityand the security of home life, into the thenstrange, but kindly world of the Mastershousehold; a Jewish family involved in the

tailoring of gentlemen’s attire, in thecounty town of Ipswich, Suffolk. There asa boy his interest in the sea had blossomedwith the close proximity of the river andthe many commercial and private vesselsthat were to be found there. In the winterof 1944 tragic news from home had lefthim destitute at a very young age. In lateryears he had taken the family name tohimself but not alas the faith. Havingcompleted his education to a proficientstandard, he had entered the Royal Navyas an apprentice shipwright. Rowing,sailing and maintaining the Navy Whalersand other small auxiliary craft haddeveloped the skills that were to be soessential to his future career. It was while

on a cycling holiday around East Angliathat he discovered the pleasures of themarket town of Maldon and wasintroduced to his wife-to-be Margaret, nowknown to all affectionately as Mrs M.Meeting Margaret had been the catalyst inhis life. Upon leaving the navy he hadmoved to the town and set up shop as aboat builder repairer. There was a greatdemand for his services, which hadenabled the business to expand and moveto the present premises at Downs Road.He and Margaret were married shortlyafter this event and set up home in thetown, and the rest as they say is history.

He left the security of the cockpit andmoved forward to make a final check of

the yacht before turning in. As he steppedonto the foredeck something caught hiseye in the half light. A small wave wastravelling along the channel from theseaward direction. It was not part of theswell which had now subsided, butseamed to move independently of it, as ifsome large fish were making its wayupstream. It passed him and disappearedinto the mist. There followed a period ofsilence, perhaps a couple of minutes,before he was aware of the sound of dieselengines starting and a shadowy bulk in themist, that had not caught his attentionpreviously, slowly withdrew to seawardsand became lost in the night. No lightswere visible and the engines were muffled

and running slowly. Puzzled by thestrange occurrence, he finished hisinspection, returned to the cockpit andstepped below into the warmth andsecurity of the cabin. He changed into hisnight attire, slid between the sheets andwas asleep almost before his head hit thepillow. Tomorrow was another day.

Chapter 3

Beth Holden entered Liverpool Streetstation from the taxi rank and boarded thetrain bound for the East Coast. She wouldhave to change at Colchester and thentravel on by the local service to her finaldestination, the small Essex town ofWivenhoe, situated on the banks of theriver Colne. This was to be a new start, afresh chapter in her life. Recovery from herfailed marriage had been slow at first. Amove to France with her mother hadprovided a diversion from the immediatesituation. However, there followed a yearof abject boredom, punctuated by varioussocial introductions, intended, in her best

interest, to offer prospects for the future.Inevitably, the call of home became toostrong and she had departed, amidstfloods of tears, to a new life in the City ofLondon and prospects of her own making.She had been offered the post of assistantin a law practice in Lincoln’s Inn, and overthe years had progressed to the position ofjunior partner. Life was rewarding. Shewas secure financially, and fulfilled, bothin her working and private life.

Moreen Connelly, had joined the firm onthe same day as herself and an immediatebond had been established between them.They had shared a small flat, close to theoffice during the intervening years, andbecame known to one and all as the twins.

Living with Moreen had been a blessing.She was a bright-light and spread herenthusiasm for life to all around her, andthus, in her care, she had recovered hersense of contentment and well-being. Andso it had been. A friendship that had lastedover the years. There had been the oddromantic interlude for them both, butnothing that had really rocked the boat, soto speak. And then Moreen had form anattachment to John Kemp. At first he wasjust a casual acquaintance, but as themonths passed it became clear to her thatthey were both deeply in love with eachother

“Love you Beth!” “Love you too. Behappy!” and floods of tears again, as the

car drew away, carrying the couple on thestart of their new life together. It had allhappened so quickly, leaving her littletime to accept the inevitable. The flat feltempty and became a place just to sleep.She had taken to going away at weekends,which were the worst times. It was duringone of these trips that she had come acrossthe hull of the gaff cutter nestled in a mudberth at the seaward end of the Wivenhoewater front. The notice tied to the mast hadread “For Sale any offers considered”.There was a number, which she rang, andwithin a couple of hours she was the newowner. It was a completely mad thing todo, but she needed a diversion, anythingto combat the chilling loneliness which

had descended upon her. “She’s as solid asa rock” said the small man in the overalls.“I’ll need her away soon though,developing the site you see. There’s a yardup at Maldon that’ll get her in shape foryou. Give em a ring shall I?” And so itwas, that she returned to the City thatweekend the owner of a yacht of dubiouscondition and contracted to a yard ownerwhom she had yet to meet. As to the costof all this, well that was anybodies guess.

That had been over a year ago now. Shehad recovered from the shock of loosingher friend and confident, and her life wasmore or less back on track Then a seniorposition had become available in the firm’sColchester office. She had been

recommended for the post and hadaccepted gratefully, as it offered the chanceof a new start. The restoration of the cutterwas almost completed. There had beenseveral visits to the yard in this period andmany letters had exchanged handsconcerning the detail involved in thereconstruction. Joseph Masters had set hermind at rest and assured her that theproject was sound, and had quoted a pricethat was fair and within her budget. Andso it was that Easterly had been reborn andwas nearly ready for delivery.

She left the train at Colchester and settledon a bench to await her connection. It wassunny and the air was cool and crisp onher face. A feeling of confidence and

pleasure stirred within her as shecontemplated her new beginnings.Wivenhoe had been a natural choice as abase. She had frequented the townregularly and felt secure and at-homethere. A small cottage had come on themarket in Dentons Terrace not far from theshops and river. She had put in an offerwhich had been accepted. Thus the stagehad been set, and she could hardly containher excitement at the thought of theprospects that lay before her. There wasstill the problem of finding a suitable berthfor Easterly. She was due for delivery inabout a week’s time. Not long, but shelived in hope. The firm had given her amonth to settle in, before she was due to

take up her new position and she was surethat she would need every minute of it.

The local service had arrived and sheboarded and settled herself in a windowseat, anxious not to miss her first glimpseof the sea and the surrounding countrysidewhich was to be her new home. “HelloMiss!” She was startled by the voice whichhad come from the opposite side of thecarriage. At first she could not place thespeaker. Then it came to her. It was thesmall man in the overalls, except he wasnow wearing a sports jacket and greytrousers. “Been to town shopping” Heoffered the explanation, and thencontinued, “The name’s Robert. RobertPrentice, but my friends call me Bob.” She

was not sure that she welcomed theintrusion, but smiled in reply. “BethanyHolden, hello! it’s nice to see you again.”“How’s the yacht progressing?” he asked.“She’s nearly completed. Due to launchnext week.” “Make a good job of her, didthey?” “Yes, I’m very pleased with thework and the price was reasonable too. I’mcalling her Easterly.” “Good name that”He beamed at her across the carriage, andshe began to feel more at ease in hispresence. She paused in thought for amoment and then asked “You wouldn’tknow where there’s a berth for her, wouldyou?” “Got just the thing” he replied. “Ipurchased the lease on that piece offoreshore, last year. The wife and I needed

a bit of extra income for our retirement.Could fit you in there.” “Thank you verymuch” she replied. “You have no ideawhat a relief that would be to me.” Theirconversation lapsed for a while as herattention was drawn by the view from thewindow. The river lay in all of itssplendour to her right hand, wending itsway through the Essex countryside, andglinting in the sunlight. The beauty of ittook her breath away. “Lovely, isn’t it?”His voice interrupted her thoughts. “Yes itis, very lovely” she replied. “Gets to meevery time, and I’ve’ only lived here all meyears” he continued. She laughed,realising as she did so, how absent thesound had been from her life. They

completed the journey in silence, contentwith their own thoughts. At the stationthey took leave of each other as friends.She walk the short distance to the terraceof cottages, turned the key in the lock andwas home .

Chapter 4.

Easterly lay to her anchor in the shallowwaters off of Mersea Stone. The lad satrelaxed in the cockpit, whilst Beth Holdenbusied herself below with the preparationof their lunch. It was a brilliant day and hehad been watching the various small craftnavigating the stretch of water that laybefore him. A large motor yacht hadanchored some distance inshore of them. Itseamed strange to him that nobody was tobe seen on deck on such a pleasant day. Itjust lay there, as if deserted and yet he hadseen no one leave the vessel. He watched itfor a while longer, then turned hisattention his present situation. He was

pleased to have such an agreeable sailingcompanion, and had begun to realise thatthe next few days could be a pleasure,rather than the arduous task that he hadexpected. She had taken to Easterly like aduck to water, and he had been pleased tohelp her in any way that he could.

The previous morning, they had leftPyefleet very early, being anxious to catchthe last of the flood tide up river. Theirarrival had to coincided with a good depthof water to enable the safe delivery of theyacht into her berth on the foreshore. Afterbreakfast, Joe packed his gear ready to goashore. Margaret was meeting him withthe car for the return journey to Maldon. Inthe meantime he had to call upon the

owner and deliver the final documentationfor the rebuild. “Now you behave yourself,remember the young lady’s from the City.”“Yes Joe!” Right then! I’ll leave you to lookafter things here,” and he was gone. TheLad was not quite sure that he welcomedthis intrusion into his everyday routine,but it seamed that he had little choice inthe mater. He was just beginning to feelrestless, when a voice hailed him from theriver bank. “Hello there! Easterly!Permission to come aboard?” She wasyoung, probably in her late twenties. Herfigure was slim and pert, displayed toperfection by a white short sleeved blouseand fitted jeans. A bob of brown hairframed her features, which were warm

and generous, with eyes to die for. All ofthis and more, became apparent to him, asshe descended the bank and drew closer.His heart skipped a beat. She was not at allwhat he had expected.

“A penny for them!” She had returned tothe cockpit bearing bowls of steamingsoup and a large plate of sandwiches.“There, I think that should keep us goinguntil tea-time,” He grinned in reply, andthey both tucked into the fare that laybefore them. After a while, she asked,“what do I call you? We can’t be friendsyou know, unless we have names.” Hethought for a moment. It had neveroccurred to him before. He had alwaysbeen called the Lad, but he liked the idea.

“I know,” she continued, “how aboutJamie?” He thought for a moment longerand then said, “yes, why not, Jamie suitsme just fine.” She smiled, “hello Jamie!”“hello Beth!” he replied, and they settled tothe rest of their lunch, content with theirsolution to the problem.

The horizon over the Thames Estuary hadbecome dark and foreboding. It hadhappened without their noticing it. A windwas rising from the North East and therewas a definite chill in the air. “We had bestbe moving, I don’t want to be caught herein that.” He gestured towards the everblackening squall that was descendingupon them. Let’s get some water under herkeel.” And so saying he set about rigging

the storm jib and try-sail. “They look verysmall?” she ventured. “You wait until thiswind builds, that’s all she”ll need. I’llshorten the anchor cable. When I give thesignal, sail her out will you?” ” Yes ofcourse,” she replied, taking charge of thetiller in readiness. He went forward torecover the anchor. When he hadshortened the scope of the cablesufficiently, he waved his hand. Bethhardened the sheets and eased the tiller tolee-ward. Easterly responded by surgingforward driven by the raising wind, andthen turned and headed away from theshore, into the deeper water beyond,lifting the anchor free from the seabed asshe did so. He completed his task and

secured it in its housing on the foredeck.He had just re-joined her in the cockpitwhen it hit them full blast. Easterly heeledto the onslaught, steadied, then marchedstaunchly across the short seas that hadbeen whipped up by the gale-force wind.With the wind came the rain, ice-cold,torrents of it. It took their breath away. Itlasted perhaps two or three minutes at themost, before moving on. There had beenlittle time to prepare, and they were bothsoaked and extremely cold. He started themotor and headed inshore towards thePyefleet Channel. It was the closest pointto offer any shelter and he knew that theyneeded to regain their body heat as soon aspossible. On arrival, they anchored and

secured the yacht, and went below torecover.

Easterly’s cabin offered them little comfortat first. The main hatchway had beenpartly open and a considerable amount ofwater had found its way below decks. Hestarted the heater and set about pumpingthe bilges. He became aware that Beth wasshaking uncontrollably with the cold. Shelooked almost blue and it was obvious thatshe was unable to fend for herself. Herealised that he must get her warm as soonas possible. She looked at him indesperation. “Jamie, please do this for me.Its fine, really!” Her voice was no morethan a whisper. He seated her on the edge

of the bunk-bed and proceeded gently toattend to her needs.

They sat opposite to each other, wrappedin blankets. The heater had done its work,and the cabin was habitable again. She hadthe colour back in her cheeks once more. “Imust look a mess?” “You look fine to me,”he replied. “I’m sorry! Have I embarrassedyou?” she asked. “Well a little,” he replied.“You’re so beautiful.” She flushed andlowered her eyes from his view. “OhJamie! I can’t remember the last time thatanyone said that to me.” She reached over,took his hand and drew him to her. Hermouth was soft and warm as it sought his.She reclined backwards upon the bed,opened her thighs and accepted him,

thrusting forward desperately in hersearch for completion. Their desire foreach other seamed insatiable, but waseventually rewarded, and they lay in eachothers arms, lost to the world in repose.

He had been awake for some time, layingthere, watching her sleep, her breastsraising and falling gently to the rhythm ofher breathing. He was completelymesmerised by her. He could never haveimagined meeting some one like her, andto be as close as this was beyond hiswildest dreams. She stirred, “Hello there!”her voice was low and lyrical. Their eyesmet, and just for that moment time stoodstill. They were in another world andneither wished for the spell to be broken.

They consummated there relationshipagain, gently, lovingly, deeply, thenslumbered on content in the moment andwith each other.

Chapter 5.

The Cessna was above the squall, havingclimbed to avoid it. John Francis and TimWestern surveyed the scene from theirlofty vantage point. They could see thesmall yacht clawing its way into deeperwater, and then all was obliterated fromtheir view. “Hope they make it OK.” “Yesso do I.” John Francis had experiencedsimilar conditions in the past and he didnot make the comment lightly. He thoughtthat he had recognised the yacht, as it borea strong resemblance to the Cutter that hehad seen anchored the previous evening,but he was not sure. They turned theirattention to the job in hand. This was their

first day working together as a crew andthey were getting along just fine. Thisflight was mainly for calibration of theinstruments and camera. The weather haddelayed them slightly, but already thehorizon was showing signs of clearerconditions to come.

He was still unsure of the exact purpose oftheir mission. His job was to fly the aircraftaccurately. Tim had control of the cameraand directed the operation. So far, most oftheir time had been spent out in theestuary far from their intended location.He made a mental note to mention this atthe next meeting. “There they are. We’llhave them on camera in a minute.” Timhad re-discovered the yacht. She was

heading inshore now, seeking sheltercloser to the land. “There you see, look.”He adjusted the zoom and the yachtappeared, on the screen, small but verydistinct. It was only an image on a monitorscreen, but for John Francis somethingstirred within him and he knewinstinctively the identity of the youngwoman in the cockpit. It was completelyillogical that the feeling should be sostrong, and yet it was there. The image ofthe yacht had faded from their view andthe spell was broken. They completed afurther hour of their allotted task, flying onvarious heading and checking the accuracyof the equipment. Eventually Tim nodded,satisfied with results. “Right! That should

do. Let’s head back, I could kill for a cup oftea.” He was a great tea-man and seamedto consume gallons of the stuff. “Yes! by allmeans, let’s do just that. I could do with astretch myself.” he replied and set coursefor the return leg of their journey.

It was late afternoon. They had justcompleted their tea break, when Johnsonhad requested that he should attend ameeting with the Governor. He haddirected him to one of the rooms, situatedon the ground floor at the front of thebuilding, which was being used as atemporary office. Graham Spencer sat at alarge desk by the window, sorting througha pile of papers. He looked up as heentered. “Hello John! do take a seat. Be

with you in a minute.” He gestured to alarge armchair placed adjacent to the desk.John Francis settled himself, grateful forthe comfort that it offered. His attentionwas drawn to the window He tried torecall this same view when the Cutter hadbeen anchored there previously, but hewas still positive that there had been twomale figures and no other. “You all right?You’re looking a bit worried.” GrahamSpencer had completed his deliberationsand was watching him attentively. “YesI’m fine.” he replied, “just something ornothing”. “Good! Let’s get on then.” Hepicked up a large folder from the desk. “Imust confess to you that we have madeextensive enquiries regarding your past. I

am pleased to say the that you have a cleanbill of health in this respect, and I am nowable to explain the real purpose of thisoperation to you. I’m sure that you musthave been wondering.” He swivelled hischair to face the window and looked outupon the view, deep in thought. Thenwithout waiting for an affirmation hecontinued. “It has come to our attentionthat certain sensitive materials are beingbought into this country by a foreignpower. I am at liberty to tell you thatshould these be used for their intendedpurpose, the results would becatastrophic.” He paused for a moment,then returned to his position facing thedesk and looked long and hard into the

eyes of his audience. “Look John, thesepeople are bloody dangerous. I want youto be clear about this, before you commitany further. My team are all from the METSpecial Operations branch. We are used tothis, it’s part of our job. You will bebranded as one of us by association, andshould push come to shove you’ll not begiven any special dispensation. It’s dog eatdog in this business I’m afraid.” He lentback in the chair and relaxed, havingimparted his message. He was keen toelicit a positive response, but years ofexperience guided his hand in the mater,and he could only hope that his initialimpression of the young man seated beforehim, had been correct.

So there it was, the truth at last. A littlelate, but better late then never, he thought.Upon consideration, his previousoccupation had not been without itsdangers. One had to be constantly awareof them, as complacency could lead to direconsequences. The question was, shouldhe become further involved in thisparticular situation. He was sorelytempted to take the opportunity offered tohim and withdraw there and then.However, his curiosity had been aroused,and he had to admit that the demandingnature of the task had provided an outletfor his natural ability as an aviator.Something that had been missing, since hisretirement from his former career. He was

part of a team again, and he foundcomplete satisfaction in this. It had beenthe pattern of his life over the past tenyears, and it was good to be back. Withoutfurther consideration, he affirmed hiscommitment to the project, and the two ofthem shook hand. “Good to have you onboard.” Graham Spencer looked pleasedand relieved. “Let’s have a drink on it.Whisky?” Two glasses and a bottle hadappeared upon the desk. “I like a small nipoccasionally. Double malt! Hope you likeit!”

They sat together for a while longer,discussing various aspects of theoperation. Some considerable time hadbeen spent on the ground in a fruitless

search, using conventional methods, but sofar they had drawn a blank. There was nodoubt that the the materials were arrivingby sea. Several vessel had been boardedand searched, but had proven to be clean.Time was of the essence, and it had beendecided to set up a base on the island andcarry out an aerial survey in a last attemptto penetrate the cloak of secrecysurrounding the problem. The intent wasto concentrate upon the many small creaksand inlets to be found in the area. Thesewere less obvious, and yet would providedample opportunity for clandestineintruders to come and go unobserved. Thistask was to commence at dawn the

following day, and promised to bethorough, both in it’s extent and detail.

David Cox had entered the room whilstthey had been chatting. “Something herethat I thought you should see right awayGov.” He placed a large photo image onthe desk before them. “This one is fromfrom today’s’ survey. We have aninteresting situation here, just at theentrance to the Pyfleet Channel.” Hepointed to the area of interest, and uponfurther inspection it became apparent thatthere was an unusual pattern visible on thesea bed. There appeared to be two paralleltracks, extending from the seaward end ofthe channel, and terminating in theshallows at the source. They were very

feint, disappearing occasionally, is ifburied, only to appear again a shortdistance further on. “Also notice the largemotor yacht anchored just off-shore,” hecontinued. “This may just be a coincidence,but I have a suspicion that the two featuresare somehow connected.” “Yes so have I.”Graham Spencer prodded the image withhis finger. There was a steely glint in hiseyes. “Gentlemen I think that we havethem at last,” he said.

There had been much speculation as theysat talking after their evening meal.Graham Spencer had remained in theoffice, and the phone had been busy forseveral hours. He had eventually sent amessage inviting them to join him. The

atmosphere in the room was tense. Thebriefing was short and to the point. Apolice presence had been established in thearea to monitor, movements overnight.Until a transfer of materials was suspected,things would be kept low key. Thecoastguard had been alerted and woulddeploy a vessel if required. A PoliceSpecial Forces Group had been assembledto head the main arresting body. Theywere due to arrive early the next morning.In the event, the Cessna would bedeployed to monitor the situation from theair, and supply direction to the groundoperation, by radio. The meetingcompleted, they retired early inpreparation for the events of the coming

new day, though whether sleep wouldcome easily was questionable. Probablynot!

Chapter 6.

Patricia Hodge dropped the mooringbuoy, hardened the sheets, and lay thedinghy on course, leaving the anchorage atSt. Lawrence Bay quickly astern of her.Ahead she could see the outline of thePower Station, set gaunt against adarkening sky. She had taken the

precaution of setting her storm sails, inpreparation for the approaching squall.She adjusted her bearing until the foot ofthe fore-stay aligned with the tip of theBradwell breakwater, and held steady,secure in the knowledge that she wouldachieve a safe passage to her intendeddestination.

‘Kitten’ was a GP-14 hard-chine dinghy;not the fastest, but solid and reliable, and avery good sea boat. There were not manyplaces in this stretch of water that she hadnot visited in her, and over the years shehad become a very accomplished sailor.She had helped her brother David buildthe dinghy while they were still at school,and they had had many an adventure in

her together. Then David had joined theNavy as a cadet, and she was left as officerin-charge so to speak. A last hug, for awhile at least. “Look after Mum! guess youare the captain now!” and he haddeparted, excited with the prospects of hisnew career. They had both missed himterribly. Her Father had deserted themwhen she was but a child, and the three ofthem, Mum, David and herself, hadweathered the storms of life together eversince. Upon leaving school, a short term ofemployment as an office junior, hadconvinced her that there were better thingsto be doing in this life. She had donned thegarb of the working man and found casuallabour amongst the yards and vessels that

constituted the commercial life of theMaldon water front. Her natural ability toattend successfully to the various taskspresented to her, and her cheerfuldisposition, had found favour with theworking folk, and her services werealways in demand. A dab of paint here, ora trip to the top of the mast, to fix an errantportion of the rigging. It was all within herdaily routine.

The wind had increased in force andbacked to the North-East. She raised thecentre board until just the tip was grippingthe water, and went about onto a starboardtack, surfing across the face of the squall asa surfer rides a wave. She had the wholewidth of the river at this point and had

drawn away from the dangers of theshallow water to the lee of her. The raincame down in buckets, ice cold, reducingvisibility and taking her breath away.Kitten skipped across the waves at a greatpace, and the opposite shore line was soonupon her, prompting a further change ofcourse. The wind was now free and fromher port hand. She settled the dinghy on abroad reach, which would eventuallybring her within the shelter of the Bradwellforeshore. Though well prepared, she hadstill been chilled by the passing downpour,and aimed to rest there for a while, andreplenish her bodily resources.

And all of this, just for that silly Lad, shethought. Life had been uncomplicated till

then. She had been confident and able tolook after herself. Mum had said that shewas too independent, and yet family lifeand her daily routine had provided ampleopportunity to socialise, and she had felthappy and content in this. The Lad hadchanged all of that, and she was not surethat she welcomed the intrusion into herinner sanctum. He had come to their homeas a lodger, and they had taken to himstraight away. David had just departed forthe Navy, and it was good to have thecompany, as the house had been feelingvery empty. At first they were just mates,but so alike. They spoke the samelanguage, thought the same thoughts. Itwas uncanny. They shared the same love

of the river, and found a deep satisfactionin each others company. Then slowly,without her really realising, somethingdeep within her had stirred. A yearning,over and above all of this, and itchallenged her each day to seekcompletion. Her body had changed, sheknew that, and Mum had guided her in themanagement of this. That had been theeasy bit. It was her feelings for the Lad thatshe found so challenging. He hadremained oblivious to her re-birth as awoman, choosing to live in a world of hisown, amerced in his boats and the river.And now she was on this fools errand,perusing him to goodness knows where, ina desperate attempt not to feel rejected. If

she were honest, the whole affair wasdriving her nuts.

The sun had emerged from behind theretreating clouds, and her mood changed,soothed by the warmth of its rays. Thewind deceased to a fair breeze, escortingher little vessel on its final passage into thelee of the breakwater at the entrance toBradwell Creak. She anchored the dinghyclose to the shore, where the best shelterwas to be found, and recovered herThermos-flask and sandwiches from thesecurity of the locker, set under theforedeck. The warm soup replenished her,body and soul, followed by Mum’s beefand chutney sandwiches, and she settleupon the bottom boards of the dinghy, for

the moment, content, and at peace with theworld. How long she had lain there, shewas not sure, but she came to with a start,realising that time was of the essence if shewas to reach her final destination beforenightfall. She had planned to lay-up for thenight in the Pyfleet Channel. It wassheltered and secure and she had oftenenjoyed the peace and tranquillity that itoffered in the past. She completed herpreparations and and made her departure.The wind and weather were set fair, butshe had a hard six mile sail ahead of her,before reaching the entrance to the Colneestuary, and her intended landfall. Theincoming tide would set against her soon,and it was essential that she should gain

the shallow waters of the Mersea Flats,before it was able to hampered herprogress. The Flats bordered the southernshore of Mersea Island, and extended toMersea Stone, situated at it’s Eastern tip.Kitten had the bit between her teeth, andwas really steaming along, and sheachieved her objective, in record time. Themotion over the shallows was smother andshe was now out of the main tidal stream,and able to make progress unimpeded. Sheknew the area like the back of her hand.No place to take a larger craft, but adinghy on a rising tide presented littleproblem.

It was 4.30 pm as she rounded the point atMersea Stone. It had been an exhilarating

sail. The wind had served her well, andalthough tired, she felt mentally refreshed,and optimistic. More like her old self. Sheurged the dinghy forwards on a failingwind and eventually entered the channel.Her heart missed a beat. Easterly layanchored close to the shore a shortdistance ahead of her. She could notbelieve her luck. There he was at last withnowhere to run. Her heart was pounding,with excitement, at the prospect of animminent gratification of the desire withinher. She bought the dinghy alongside, andsilently climbed aboard. She slid open thehatch and peered within. It was a whilebefore her eyes became accustomed to the

dark, then she uttered a sob, as her wholeworld collapsed around her.

Chapter 7.

Police Constable Bob Marley shifted hisposition to ease the cramp that wasdeveloping in his left leg. The grass bankto the rear of the sea wall at Mersea Stonewas not the most comfortable of locations.Normally his shift would have ended bynow and after a swift pint at the Bell, thepleasures of home, supper and the lovingattentions of his wife Megan, would havecompleted his day. On this occasion,however, this was not to be and he tried toput these thoughts from his mind andconcentrate on the task at hand.

It had been a strange evening. He had beenput on extended duty around 6pm in orderto observe any activity on the waters off of

Stone Point. At first, all had been quite,apart from a small dinghy making its wayinto the estuary. It passed close by and thesound of sobbing drifted across the waters;which was strange, as sailing was usuallylooked upon as a pleasurable activity. Thesmall vessel disappeared from his viewleaving him perplexed.

His attention returned to the scene beforehim, and there it was; a motor cruiser, agiant compare with most craft on the river.It had appeared as if by magic, while hisattentions had strayed. No sound was tobe heard, and it lay there, still in thewaters, like a bird of prey, awaiting topounce. This is a work in progress:

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